You Looked Down on Me Once Now You Look Up (Patricia and Oliver) novel Chapter 909

"I..."

Bang! The door slammed so hard, Maggie could feel the vibration in her chest. She took a few quick steps and caught up at the doorway, watching him head for the car. "Where are you going?" she called out.

"Don't worry about it."

Atticus had spent years far away in the northwest. Chelsea was grown now, no longer the little girl he remembered, but the guilt still ate at him. He'd missed so much. Work always came first. The family never really got to be together. Now, finally back, he had imagined peaceful days, laughter filling the house, everyone close again. Instead, he walked right into a mess. His daughter tangled up with a jerk.

Chelsea wasn't perfect, but Hector? So much worse. Sure, Chelsea chased after him first, but if Hector was so committed to never getting married, he should have kept his distance. Instead, he slept with her, then ducked all responsibility. Worse, he tried to dump all the blame on Chelsea, spouting nonsense like, "She knew I don't do relationships." What a load of crap.

Fine. Whatever. Did they really think he was dead? That he was just a ghost, watching all this from the sidelines?

...

"Mr. McKee," Lincoln said, stopping just inside the door. "Mr. Padilla wanted me to tell you, maybe it's a good idea to lay low for a few days while you're on break."

Hector glanced at the plane ticket in Lincoln's hand. "What is that supposed to mean?"

Lincoln looked tired, lips pressed together. "He means, Mr. Parsons is basically running Riverdale now. If he really wants to do something, there's nothing Mr. Padilla can do to stop him."

"What? Is he going to kill me or something?"

"Just take your ticket and go."

Unbelievable. Sure, Hector had messed up, but Chelsea wasn't exactly a saint. Was Atticus going to break the law over this?

This world was brutal to women. Men got all the pleasure, women took all the blame. If he hadn't known, maybe he could have looked away, but standing by while his own daughter was blamed? No real father could do that.

"You—" Hector tried to get a word in, but Atticus grabbed him by the collar and cut him off with a punch.

"Shut up."

Thud. Thud. Thud.

Atticus didn't let go. He just kept hitting, fists slamming into Hector again and again. Hector had no chance to fight back. Against someone like Atticus, a man who'd spent his life in the military, Hector was nothing. It was a total beatdown.

Lincoln stood frozen in the doorway, shaking so hard he could barely hold his phone. It took him forever to remember he needed to call Oliver.