(William’s POV)
If there’s one thing I’ve learned about my father, it’s that nothing he does is without purpose. Every visit, every word, every step is instrumental. He plans his moves long before anyone else knows the game has begun, and he always arrives with a clear aim.
When he shows up, like he just did this afternoon, it’s never for mere gimmicks. There’s always a blow to land, and woe betide his victim.
I hadn’t moved from my spot near the buffet table, but my body went still, and the half-eaten chicken wrap in my hand suddenly lost all appeal.
My mind began running through a mental checklist at the speed of a market crash, trying to recollect anything I might have done, or failed to do, that could have brought him to Los Angeles without warning, like a predator stalking an un
