Chapter 34: Chapter 34: A Game of Chicken

The tools I required were stealthily delivered, though they proved inessential when we departed. Nobody hindered our path as Wynn, Becca, and I left for Cain Manor.

I requested they leave me be as we returned home. Becca teased me about needing more sleep after our night together, which amused me a little before I explained my desire to meditate and calculate before we arrived. After all, my next opponent was my grandfather.

I’m fairly certain I’ve a winning hand, I thought when assessing

Henriette informed me that Grandpa requested I meet him in the library and so I headed to it alongside Wynn and Becca.

I had little fear of us being overheard in the mansion’s library. Not only did it house two-stores worth of books, but sound-dampening panels lined throughout the room as well, ensuring nothing interfered or escaped. I considered it the most secure location in Cain Manor, barring the bedrooms.

Grandpa had long settled into one of the velvet, wingback chairs which circled the mahogany roundtable at the center of the room. He bent concave in it, with saggy shoulders. His rumpled outfit – the same as the one from the previous day, an empty shot glass, and a half-empty jade bottle which resided on the table suggested he had been there all night.

“I’ll stand guard,” Wynn said as we entered the room. “Just in case anybody else comes back.”

The door clanked behind Becca and me, though I remained fixed on Grandpa. He in turn kept on me with a blank gaze.

“You’ve come prepared with a plan to convince me to let you continue as The Grandmaster,” Grandpa said, his voice tame.

I chomped on my inner cheek. If I told the truth, it would be harder to feign ignorance about what I did the previous night – about how I employed the paper-thin disguise to force his hand. I couldn’t admit I placed myself in the situation to coerce him. However, if I lied, he’d undoubtedly detect the truth. The plan’s worthless now, I realized.

Against Grandpa, I’d have to shape my every ploy to his present action. I pulled in a lungful of air and let out a long exhale. “It’s what you taught me to do.”

Grandpa heaved a deep sigh before seizing the bottle. He poured the ruby-brown liquid into the glass before setting the bottle down and gulping down the entire drink in a single motion. “You’ve one chance to convince me to turn a blind eye.”

I blinked.

“If you can’t,” he continued as he clanked the glass onto the table, “this ends today. Whether it ends because you retire or because I bring you in will be your call.”

I grimaced. I had done this to my own family. I had long imagined how it might be, but nothing could’ve readied me for it. I can’t lose focus, I reminded myself. Even if he didn’t approve, I had a job to do still.

My mind raced through my options. The potential threat Lilah posed if I failed to destroy Vincent wouldn’t suffice – I could pursue him still as a detective. The same went for "The Sylvia Play." My initial scheme – convincing him to carry out the scheme to dispel suspicions – still struck me as the best, but the previously mentioned issues remained.

Still, I thought, he wishes to protect me. Everything he was doing was to protect me. Thus, his statement about turning me in had to be a bluff. I simply had to call his bluff.

I began to open my mouth, but I hesitated. What if I was wrong? What if he deemed me a lost cause?

“May I have some time to think?” I asked.

Grandpa shook his head.

I maintained my poker face despite my wish to scream. After all, I was going to return The Maker’s Tear! So what if I stole it? The system failed to return it to its rightful owners! I was redressing an unjust situation!

Why did he have to stand against me? Why did he have to threaten my life?!

My thoughts overflowed with all I possessed. The mansion home, the cars, the travel, the money, the fame, the power – I didn’t wish to surrender any of it. I didn’t wish to surrender anything I inherited. It was my inheritance!

Complaining doesn’t make a difference, a part of me said. The Heiress to the Cain lineage had nothing to scream about. The Grandmaster of Theft, meanwhile, would simply move forward.

I should just surrender being The Grandmaster of Theft, I reasoned.

It was still the logical choice. One, it would make Grandpa happy. Two, it protected my inheritance. Three, it protected my relationship with Rebecca – we could simply be girlfriends! Finally, Wynn would feel free to date – which would make playing matchmaker with him and Rae easier. Our personal lives would be so much simpler.

I don’t owe The Dilmurid anything, my thoughts continued. It’s not as if I cared about The Maker’s Tear on a spiritual level. It was as much a prop to me as the owl feather earring I wore in Sokkinhveim. Furthermore, I technically didn’t have a client this time around as I hadn’t met with any representatives. This job was, for all intents and purposes, a personal mission for the sake of my reputation. What was the point of said reputation if I was no longer The Grandmaster of Theft?

Finally, if I yielded, I could focus on the bigger score: Vincent. Dealing with him was of much greater importance than returning an expensive red rock to a group I wasn’t even a part of. Grandpa and I could unite and find some way to bring him to justice. I’m certain we could.

I could’ve ended things then and there. Logic demanded I end it then and there. Nobody outside of our small circle would know if I decided against helping.

I tried to speak the words, but my throat knotted and seized, as if a stone had been pressed against my windpipe. My lips refused to submit.

I couldn’t submit.

If I did submit, I’d be someone who did nothing when I knew I could. Someone who surrendered when it was no longer convenient. Someone who I didn’t wish to be.

Calling his bluff was the only path forward. The only path my heart would not rebel against.

While I ran the risk of Grandpa turning me in, provided he wasn’t bluffing, my future still contained all sorts of potential. I could reclaim the power I’d sacrifice. There were other paths to power. After all, even if I wasn’t The Cain heiress anymore, I had emergency reserves stored all over. What’s more, I still possessed the means of acquiring more. I was still intelligent and still beautiful. I could leverage those. Everything would be okay.

If I chose the path of an heiress over the noble thief, however, I’d contend with regret every single day. I’d know that I was someone who ran from my duty. I couldn’t bear to live with myself… To live in shame. To live in a manner I deemed dishonorable.

In a way, it’s amusing. I can’t align with what I consider honorable without embracing something many consider dishonorable. Oh well. I’m the one who must live with my choices, after all.

And speaking of choices, I no longer hesitated to take the leap.

I bowed my head. “Thank you for teaching me all you have, Grandpa. And for caring for me as you did.”

Grandpa squinted. “What are you doing?”

“Showing my gratitude before I leave.”

“What?!” Becca shrieked.

I spun to face her. “There’s nothing logical I can say. Nevertheless, I’m returning The Maker’s Tear.”

Becca’s mouth slackened before she slowly shook her head.

“Why?” Grandpa asked, his voice a touch louder.

I spun back to Grandpa. “Because I want to.”

“Why?”

“Because I decided I would. I swore to myself that I’d return it and so I won’t accept anything less.”

“B-But…” Becca mumbled. “…what about us?”

Another puzzle piece clicked into position in my mind; Becca’s genuine pain would lower Grandpa’s resistance even more.

This time, I didn’t turn. One, I couldn’t look at her face as I said what I did. Two, I needed Grandpa to see my face. I reached deep inside, seized the despair losing her would bring, and pinched my eyes before anything leaked out. I wiped my eye before saying, “You’re welcome to join me, but I understand if you cannot. I’m sorry.”

You are reading story The Confessions of Cassidy Cain (Grandmaster of Theft #1) at novel35.com

The room grew so silent I almost feared my thoughts would be heard. Becca will understand, Becca will understand, I reassured myself. She was an actress as well, after all.

A sniff rammed into my ear and torqued my heart. The sooner I completed my scheme, the better.

“Grandpa, I’ve one last favor to ask before I leave—”

“NO!” Becca flared. “You don’t get to leave! I’ve waited too long for us to be a thing!”

I tucked my chin in and fought back genuine tears. “I’m sorry…”

Becca bolted past me – much to my surprise – and whacked her palms against the table. “Why are you doing this to your own granddaughter?! Don’t you love her?!”

A brief glimpse of a frown creased his lips, but he eased it and surveyed Becca with a stare of cold, assessing eyes. “I’m not falling for this—”

“DO I LOOK LIKE I’M ACTING TO YOU?! I put up with being ‘just gal pals’ with Cassidy for years! YEARS! You don’t get to take away what I worked for!”

“Rebecca!” I said, my voice commanding. “I chose this. One reason I kept you at a distance for so long is because I feared a predicament such as this. If you wish to blame anyone, blame me for not committing entirely to you or this life before now.”

Becca crumbled and lightly smacked her forehead against the table.

I winced, but I remained focused on the objective.

“Grandpa, can you provide me enough time to turn The Maker’s Tear over to The Dilmurid? I’ll turn it over as myself, betraying my deal with Narcissa. You won’t have to expose me, and I’ll end up in the legal trouble you seek.”

This time was Grandpa’s turn to recoil and recover. “You’re trying to negotiate the process to get what you want.”

“Are you saying you wish to turn me in?”

Emotion, this time a hurting scowl, blackened his face once more, but he locked it away quickly. “Why are you doing this?”

“Simple: I won’t be satisfied until I’ve returned The Maker’s Tear to The Dilmurid.”

Grandpa massaged his temples. “Kiddo, you’re smarter than this. You’d be giving up everything for this.”

“As I said before, this isn’t a matter of logic. And I wouldn’t be giving up my self-respect.”

Grandpa’s hand bawled into a fist, which he pressed his forehead against.

“Regardless,” I said, “do we have a deal?”

Grandpa unfurled his hand and heaved himself up. He stumbled a little before saying, “Do whatever it is you want, Cassidy.”

I tried to offer him a hand, but he denied it and hobbled out of the library.

Once he was away, Becca spoke. “I failed… I’m sorry…”

I frowned. “How did you fail?”

“I was trying to help back there… I thought ‘here’s the perfect chance to help. I’ll lay on the waterworks and get him to feel sorry for us.’ I really thought it would work…”

“You were conning him?”

“Trying to con him. For all the good it did.”

“Didn’t sound like things went well,” Wynn said as he joined us. The door was sealed behind him.

“Actually,” I said, “it proceeded wonderfully.”

“Huh?” Becca glanced up. “How?”

“Think of a confidence game like a boss fight in a RPG. Your party wears them down, bit by bit until you can strike the killing blow. We wore Grandpa down.”

“You sure?” she asked with eyes revived by hope.

I smirked. “Positive.”

“What was the con?” Wynn asked.

“I utilized a negotiation tactic,” I said, “not a con.”

“Whatever. What did you do?”

“Grandpa forced me to choose between being The Grandmaster and an heiress. I chose The Grandmaster.”

Wynn’s face scrunched. “And we’re not running because?”

I explained the deal.

“So you turned this into a game of Chicken,” Wynn said.

“Essentially,” I said. “I’m fairly certain Grandpa will flinch.”

“And if he doesn’t?” Becca asked.

“I’ll do as I said.”

Becca dropped her gaze. “And us?”

“That’s your decision to make.”

As much as I wished for her to remain with me, I wouldn’t force her. She had to choose to stay. I couldn’t accept her continued involvement otherwise. Besides, statements aside, even I wasn’t entirely certain what Grandpa intended to do next. With that in mind, I decided to embrace Wynn’s ideology: do what good I could in what time I had remaining.

Part 6 End