Chapter 25
The large wooden clock ticked heavily in the small silent study. The room was cast in shadows as the first signs of nightfall appeared and the green curtains billowed in the wind that blew in through the open window. Vince sat in the large padded chair behind his heavy oak desk. A crystal tumbler was gripped tightly in his hand. The amber liquid sloshed against the sides as he brought it to his mouth and took a large gulp of the whisky. His sad eyes never left the picture sitting to his left. It was Stephanie's college graduation picture and had been taken when she was twenty one years old. The world had just opened its doors to her giving so many possibilities; possibilities that should have made her happy and fulfilled in her life. God knows she deserved it and that was all he had wanted for his baby girl. He wanted the very best for her. He wanted her to have the life a father always dreamed of for their children. To be successful and content in her life and to fall in love and feel that love all the way to the tips of her fingers. He honestly thought she had found that with Jonathan. Fucking Jonathan!
Vince snarled angrily as he took another large mouthful of his drink. The ice cubes clinked against the crystal and chilled his open lips. He heard the sound of footsteps in the hallway as they passed by the closed wooden door. It was Linda. She was no doubt on her way to the kitchen to make yet another pot of strong tea. It would be the fifth one in the few hours since Stephanie had left. The hot drink was his wife's solution to any problem. That somehow it would make things seem a bit better. But it was never that easy and how could it be? His daughter had endured such terrible suffering and there was nothing he or anyone could do to change that or take it away.
Vince pushed back his seat and got to his feet, the tumbler still clutched loosely in his hand. His jaw was clenched tightly as he set it down on the small drinks cabinet behind his desk. As he reached for the bottle of Jim Beam, he noticed his hand was trembling. He quickly wrapped his fingers around the base of the bottle and swallowed thickly. He just felt so fucking useless right now. He was Stephanie's father after all. He was supposed to be the one to protect her and keep her safe from harm. Instead she'd had to rely on someone else. But thank God Paul had suspected something he had failed to see. He would be eternally grateful to him for that more than he could possibly know. Because of Paul, his daughter was safe. Stephanie had told him everything he had done for her the past month or so. He had been there when she had needed him so desperately unlike her own father who had let her down badly.
Shaking his head, Vince poured his drink and quickly gulped it down. It killed him inside to know he had failed his little girl but it killed him even more to know the pain and torture she had been through. Mental images haunted him constantly and he couldn't erase them from his mind. He was so angry. By God, he was so fucking angry. It had taken everything in him not to hunt down that bastard and choke the life out of him. He hated Jonathan Brooke. He despised every single bone in his body and there was no doubt that he would pay for what he had done. It was only a matter of time before he thought of something, someway to ruin his life just like he had ruined his daughter's.
Walking back to the desk, Vince sat in his seat heavily. He sighed as he looked at the photograph once more. Despite Stephanie's insistence that he do nothing, he wasn't prepared to let it lie. He wasn't going to let this drop. Subservience wasn't a word in his vocabulary, not when it came to his family. He would do everything in his power to make sure Jonathan was brought down. He just had to find him first. The cowardly bastard had apparently done a runner. He'd had someone check out the house when Stephanie left. The place was empty and no one was home. The car wasn't in the driveway. Brooke had been gone for a few days anyway. According to his employee, there was a pile of letters in the mail box. The earliest post mark had been towards the end of last week. But it didn't matter. He had a wealth of resources to track him down. He would find him and when he did, he'd squeeze every last breath from his body. No one screwed with a McMahon and didn't pay the price. His son-in-law would find that out soon enough.