Chapter 33 Grounded
Chris
The car swerved into the place I dreaded most on earth and I felt my heart rate picking up. I took a deep breath and rubbed my sweating palms together.
The Montgomery main villa stood tall in the middle of a well-groomed garden, its pristine white walls and carefully nurtured gardens did nothing to calm the dread pooling in my stomach.
It was one of the most beautiful places in Manaf city. My brain was still whirling from the crash, or maybe from what was coming next.
The moment Quell called, I couldn't stop trying to know why Dad summoned me. If it was because of the crash, it's okay. But I know very well that Dalton Montgomery would never summon me for that, it was an unprofessional race after all.
It can't be… No! It can't be
A butler I didn't recognize led me through the familiar halls, past the gallery of Montgomery family portraits, toward Dad’s private study.
He bowed and left, leaving me to prepare myself to face my father. I sucked in another deep breath and knocked.
The door was opened by Quell who went back to his father's side in seconds. I walked in, trying not to tremble.
Father sat behind his massive desk filled with a lot of files of course and some things neatly organised, his glasses perched on his nose, with a tablet in hand.
He didn't look up when I walked in to acknowledge my arrival at all. He just kept scrolling and nodding at intervals with a neutral expression.
I knew that calm, controlled expression too well, it meant he was absolutely furious.
My knees hit the floor before I could think about it.
"Father, I can explain…”
"Can you?" His voice was too soft.
The same kind of quiet, dangerous tone Zayd had used in the car when I had hesitated on that turn.
Fuck.
They were alike when angry, with that cold, measured control that was somehow worse than yelling.
"The race, it wasn't entirely my fault. Zayd was late getting to the garage, and then the Stripes were driving like maniacs..”
"Zayd?" Father finally looked up, one eyebrow raised.
"You are blaming him for your mistake?"
"I'm just saying he didn't give me enough time to prepare properly. He showed up last minute…”
"Like someone confident?"
I closed my mouth.
Father removed his glasses slowly and set them on the table "Did Zayd tell you to brake at the first turn?"
"Yes, but—"
"Did you brake when he told you to?"
"Not—"
"Did Zayd warn you about the second turn?"
I swallowed hard. "Yes."
"And yet you still ended up against a wall." Father stood, moving around the desk slowly.
"So tell me, Chris. How exactly is any of that Zayd's fault?"
My wild thoughts clawed their way back up again.
Why was he defending Zayd?
It can't be what I'm thinking, right? Zayd can't be his illegitimate son…
Father stopped in front of me, looking down with those cold, assessing eyes that saw through every lie and excuse.
"Stand up."
I scrambled to my feet, trying not to seem too pathetic. Father hated that.
"I didn't summon you because of the race, Chris."
Relief flooded through me for exactly two seconds before dread replaced it immediately.
If not the race, then...
"Despite the mess you made of it, the race accomplished its purpose. The Mont 0.5 sold out within hours of the footage hitting online”
"Then… why?”
"Yvonne Dan."
The blood drained from my face.
Fuck. Just Fuck!!!
"Father, I can—"
"Explain?" He tilted his head.
“Please. Explain to me why Yvonne Dan is currently in a private hospital with severe injuries from a 'mysterious accident.'"
Hospital? I told them to make sure she… fuck! Father saved her.
My mouth went dry. "She was... she was going to talk. She caught me with Jerry, and she was going to ruin everything…”
"So you tried to kill her."
"I thought..." I struggled to find the words.
“I thought a dead person was much more reliable…”
Pah!
The slap came so fast I didn't see it coming. My head snapped to the side and my cheeks went numb for a second before burning hot. I tasted blood in my mouth, that was how hard the slap was.
"You thought?" Father's voice was still calm and composed which made the situation worse. "You thought that was cleaning up your mess?"
"I was trying to protect the family's…”
"By creating a bigger fucking mess!" He kicked the chair beside me and it rolled away.
His hand grabbed my collar and yanked me forward until we were eye to eye.
"What did I teach you about making messes and cleaning them up?"
"To be thorough…”
"To be smart, you idiot! You don't need to spill blood every time you fuck up! There are a hundred ways to silence someone that don't involve attempted murder!"
"I…”
"Payoffs? Or threat and blackmail? What happened to leveraging their own secrets against them?” He shoved me back.
“You went straight to the most reckless, obvious, traceable option possible."
I stumbled against the chair he had kicked, “I will fix…”
"You will do nothing, you fool” Father walked to the door and Quell hurried after him to open the door for him.
"Father!” I knew what was coming next and it wasn't good!
He didn't turn around or even spare me a glance over his shoulder.
"Tell CA to clear your schedule for the next three months."
“Father…”
"You won't be going out during this period." He declared.
"You're going to disappear while I clean up your mess."
"But the…”
"You should have thought of everything you have at stake before you tried to murder someone because you couldn't keep your fucking dick in your pants."
The words hit like another hard slap.
“Do you understand, stay in your room until I say otherwise”
I nodded mindlessly.
"Say it."
"I understand."
"Good." He stepped out.
The door closed behind him.
I stood there in the empty study, my cheek still burning, my chest tight with rage and humiliation and something else I couldn't name.
Three fucking months locked in this prison that should be my house! It was the longest grounding ever, I don't know if my sanity would be able to survive this.
Where the fuck is Jerry!
I need some fucking release or I will go insane, I need to vent out the rage sitting in my chest.
My hands clenched into fists.
I pulled out my phone, staring at Jerry's name in my contacts.