Harry Styles
I felt like a fucking teenager again as I broke into my father's apartment, having no trouble at all unlocking his door.
I had taught myself how to open pretty much any type of lock and overall I was very good at opening things... and apparently, my father never bothered to fix his security system ever since the last time he complained it was broken.
Being his son was pretty much an excellent excuse to go by unnoticed, no one would actually think I was here to snoop around and find the information we needed, but nobody had seen me on my way here and I had asked Zayn to text me as soon as their meeting ended.
It was probably going to be a long one, my father had found a new drug supplier and they were apparently discussing the new partnership, but I honestly couldn't care less.
My job was a fucking waste of time and I was truly only playing along, I had no wish to be affiliated with my father ever again. It made me sick.
I was pulling a Cleo again today, and I started to overthink the countless jobs, deals, and 'friends' of my father's that could've been related to the trafficking, and I had no idea.
Fuck, I probably helped him with it without knowing, just doing what I was asked and getting paid, not worrying about anything at all.
This meant that I was indirectly involved with the trafficking itself and my stomach would churn with disgust whenever I thought about this, because it was the ugly truth. I hated myself for being so careless, but I never fucking imagined I could've been living a lie.
I just wanted to ask my father the basic questions:
When did he start doing this?
Was he Mason's partner since the beginning?
Did my mother know?
It was funny because a part of me was really fucking scared of knowing the answers to these questions, and they were just a few of the long list I wanted to ask him.
Speaking of lists, I was currently walking into my father's office to hopefully find something that could help Cleo and I find another missing piece of the puzzle.
If Amber was right and this was a trafficked kid, then would my father have more files here? Would he have something that could help?
I really fucking hoped I didn't come here in vain, I wanted to find Cleo and ask her about Niall, I actually missed her.
When I got his text earlier I was about to judge him, but then I remembered how fucking exhausted and affected Cleo was after the dinner, so maybe Niall needed someone to talk to or just vent. This was weird to me because I was always an only child, so I was used to having the attention all to myself, whether it was good or bad, and also only worrying about myself.
I was selfish, I knew that. I didn't deny the bad traits I had, it was pointless to pretend I was someone I wasn't. But I honestly couldn't picture myself with a sibling.
It was cute to see this side of Cleo though, she was more protective than she thought.
I made my way closer to my father's desk, not even bothering to open the curtains, the sunlight was bright enough to illuminate the room through them.
The many papers scattered on top were fucking useless, I took a seat on his leather chair and I tied my hair up in a bun, focusing on trying to find anything related to the trafficking.
These papers were mostly drug related, or simple bank transactions... and then I glanced at the small drawer where I'd seen him put the envelope in.
