Wait, what?

   My mouth drops open. “So you’re telling me... Dad was a drug dealer? You’re a drug dealer?”

   What the actual fuck has been going on this entire time that I had no idea about? How could I have been so blind? I’ve been living in my happy little world while these two have been dealing drugs this whole time?

   He winces. “A little more up the ladder than a drug dealer.”

   Blinking slowly a few times, processing this, I don’t even know what to say right now. I can see why he didn’t want me to hear this little bit of information. I’m shocked, but I also feel a little stupid that I didn’t know this about two men who are close to me.

   My head feels like it’s going to explode. I feel like everything I knew about my father is a lie. I’m not a do-gooder. I’m not one to judge my uncle and father for what they did to earn a living. Am I shocked that it was related to drugs? Yes. Do I love them less? No. But he lied to me. That’s what stings the most.

   I rub my face with both of my hands. “So how did this happen? How’d you both get into this?”

   He sighs. “When I was young, I wanted to find the quick and easy way on making money. Your father, he was the hard worker. He didn’t mind putting in the time and work and paying his dues.”

   I smile because that is my father. He was never afraid of hard work.

   “So I started getting involved with less-than-legal activities, and drugs were one of them. Because I didn’t do them, I found that I was able to have a level head. I made a lot of money in a fast amount of time.”

   “So you were never a farmer.”

   “No, I was. I had the farm for fun.”

   I give him the side eye and he laughs. “Okay, okay. I had it to have a legitimate business. But I did genuinely enjoy having the farm. I still do.”

   “So how did my dad get involved in this?”

   He looks at me with regret in his eyes. “When you started having your health issues”—he winces a little—“your father came to me for money for your medical bills.”

   That’s a sucker punch to the gut. “Me? My bills?”

   My father told me not to worry about it. That it was fine.

   “I gave it to him, of course. No questions asked. But you know your father. He never wanted a handout. So he finally asked me the question he avoided all these years.”

   “He asked you how you made your money.”

   Neville nodded. “So I told him. And he wanted in.”

   My dad was the sweetest, kindest man you would ever meet, and he was out there supplying drugs and making our city a shittier place? I don’t know what to think, or to say.

   “Does Abbie know?” I ask through narrowed eyes.

   He nods.

   “And she has accepted it?” I guess, adding some whiskey to my own coffee and taking a long sip. I can now see why he needed something stronger.

   “Yes, she has, but it’s different with her. We only just met and the circumstances around that required her knowing,” he admits, ducking his head. “It’s my fault—I brought him into this world. He needed money and saw how much I was making. He wanted the best for you, Bronte. All the money he made, he put into an account for you. The house he bought? For you. I know it doesn’t make it any better, but he wanted to make sure you wouldn’t have to worry about money.”

   “I’d rather have him here than have money,” I murmur, voice breaking. “I just want my dad back.”

   Drug lord or not, I just want my dad back.

   “And I’m going to have to live with that guilt forever,” I hear him whisper to himself.

* * *

   I’m smashed by the time Crow drops by that evening. I can tell he’s surprised by the way he takes the bottle in his hand and lifts it in the air, looking between it and me, his brow furrowing. “You’re drunk?”

   “Something like that.”

   He sighs, and places the bottle back down. “At least you left the house then. Unless they do alcohol delivery drop-offs now?”

   “They do. That’s a thing,” I say, nodding. “But yes, I did leave the house. And it was awful. I went to see my uncle Neville.”

   His eyes widen, and it’s then that it hits me.

   Crow would know.

   This entire time, he would have known about Uncle Neville and my dad. He hired me knowing I was the daughter and the niece of a pair of fucking drug lords, and they still hired me.

   “You hired me, knowing I was a drug lord’s daughter,” I say, shaking my head. “Even though I didn’t even know I was a drug lord’s daughter. Isn’t that funny?”

   I feel like an idiot. They all knew this, except me, and it’s my life.

   How can they all know more about my own life than me? The whole thing makes me feel so out of control, so powerless.

   “Bronte—”

   “You knew. Abbie knew. Everyone knew. I’m guessing the whole fucking MC knew. But I didn’t know.” I pause. “And I kind of wish I didn’t know. No wonder he didn’t want to tell me. I wish I could go back in time and take it back.”

   Ignorance is bliss.

   Crow sits down next to me on the floor. “It wasn’t my thing to tell you. It wasn’t my place.”

   His voice is calm, and soothing. Patient.

   I know it’s not his fault, but that still doesn’t mean that I don’t feel a little betrayed.

   “Your place is next to me, on this carpet,” I mumble, resting my head against his shoulder. “Do me a favor, and don’t lie or omit information to me again, okay? I’m not going to take it well. No one really likes looking like a fool, do they?”

   Everybody wants the truth, especially when it has to do with them. But I know that no one wanted to tell me because it’s not something to randomly bring up in conversation. Hey, Bronte, so what do you think that your father and uncle are serious players in the illegal drug industry? I don’t know I would’ve believed them even if someone did tell me that.

   But I am still allowed to be upset by this.

   “You don’t look like a fool,” he assures me, stroking my hair. “You look like a good, honest woman, and one who has never even used drugs, never mind knew her family was dealing them. They didn’t want you a part of this, and I’m sure you can understand why. They didn’t want to taint you, and bring you down with them. What they did was their decision. It has nothing to do with you as a person or how they feel about you.”