Chapter Eighteen: Parting Words
He woke to find her in his room.
He'd thought maybe she was Skye at first. She walked softly, and smelled sweet as she leaned in to whisper in his ear.
He pretended to be sleeping.
"You make think I'm weak, Old Man," she said. Her voice cut into his brain. "You make think I'm frightened. You may have them all cowed and domesticated and under you thumb."
Her breath was on his skin, her hand on his throat. He had no doubt she could kill him if she wanted to. He admired her guts, considering this was a hospital and she wouldn't have much time for an escape, if murder was her intent.
"But I'm not that little girl anymore, Daddy," she said fiercely. "I'm not afraid of you, I'm not dependent on you, and I'm not going to let you hurt me or anybody I love."
She pulled away slightly, her scent lessening, her voice a little more distant. Edward didn't open his eyes to look at her. Let her think he was asleep.
"Trust me, Daddy. I see it more than they do. We're alike. The good, the bad and the ugly—I'm your only true heir. I don't want your money, and I don't give a shit about the wreckage you call ELQ. But if you lay a finger on what's mine, I promise you…" Her hand tightened around his throat, cutting off his air for a moment. "Next time, you won't be faking it."
And then she was gone.
Edward waited a long time after he heard the door shut before opening his eyes. He could still feel the impression her slender fingers had left on his throat, could still smell the remnants of her perfume in the air.
His daughter was a ballsy little vixen. He had to give her that.
And with that thought firmly in his mind, Edward L. Quartermaine began to laugh.
Coming in Chapter Nineteen: Red-Eye, and the Rules are Reiterated