The Broken One (Corisi Billionaires, #1)
Ruth Cardello
CHAPTER ONE
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JUDY
Barefoot and dressed in white, fluffy, hooded unicorn onesie pajamas, Judy Corisi spun in the high-backed leather chair behind her father’s desk. He didn’t like her in his office, but she remained secure in the knowledge that there was no bite behind his growl.
And she had an important reason to be there.
After one final spin, she pulled the chair closer to the desk, opened her school folder, and took out a piece of paper. Even though it was a first draft, she’d put a significant amount of time into it. She’d hoped to get a quick okay from her teacher so she could move on to the next step. Instead, her teacher had met with her and asked for a major overhaul of the assignment.
Frustrating.
I worked hard on this.
Harder than normal, because I wanted to make Dad smile. Usually her father loved hearing about school. He often came home late from work, but always made time for her. They’d curl up on the couch, read together, and she’d tell him about her day. Over the years, she’d gone from reading to him to reading next to him. No matter how busy he was, he was hers for that window of time. Her life was full with friends, soccer practice, and schoolwork, but time with her father was something special.
Not that time with her mother wasn’t. According to her friends, Judy had the sweetest, most attentive mother ever. She attended all of Judy’s games, volunteered in the school, and made Judy’s friends feel special whenever they visited. Perfect was how everyone described Abby Corisi—which often made it hard to live up to her expectations.
I have too much of Dad in me to always follow the rules.
Dominic Corisi—his name alone commanded attention. Her mother joked that he’d been a rascal before they’d met. Judy never did get what that meant, but Uncle Jake said her father had as many enemies as he had friends.
And he certainly had a lot of friends.
Judy looked around her father’s office. The mahogany shelves that lined the walls were full of photos and every award Judy had received since preschool. She couldn’t imagine anyone not liking her father. He didn’t even have a temper.
Which was why she had been shaken by his reaction when she’d said her teacher had asked everyone to make a family tree.
He’d been angry.
And something else.
When she’d asked him why, he’d said he was tired.
Her father didn’t get tired.
When she’d pushed for him to explain, he’d gotten a haunted look in his eyes and walked away. She’d chased after him, but he’d brushed her off and closed himself in this very office.
When asked about his response, all her mother had said was that she would talk to him. About what? Judy didn’t know. Whatever their talk had involved, it hadn’t changed her father’s feelings toward the project. She’d made the additional mistake of asking him about his own father the next day. She’d never forget the look on his face. So much pain it had sent a flash of panic through her.
Her father had always been invincible. Nothing could hurt him—no one could scare him. Yet Judy had glimpsed a dark memory in his eyes and knew that someone had.
Imagining anyone hurting him brought out a protectiveness in Judy. More than anything, she wanted the smile back in his eyes. A full family tree, one that included all the people who loved him, had felt like the perfect way to do it.
Her first draft had been time consuming, but exciting once she’d started it. On the trunk of her family tree, she’d written her grandmother’s name in an apple, then her parents’ above in a box, with herself represented as a leaf. A long Andrade branch wove around one side of the tree with all their children and grandchildren. Smaller branches balanced the other side, representing her mother’s family as well as offshooting branches for the Katers, the Borrettos, the royal Hantan family. In the middle, two branches wove both sides together, a beautiful tangle of love. It was a first draft, but one that she’d been excited to share. This was the family her father had built. She’d planned to transfer the information onto a canvas and give it to him for his birthday—until she’d shown it to her teacher.
Apparently her diagram needed to be pruned. She hadn’t followed the directions carefully enough. It wasn’t that Judy had misunderstood the assignment; it was that her definition of family didn’t match her teacher’s.
Revision was normally something Judy was okay with.
Uncle Jake says the secret to true genius cannot occur until one is willing to acknowledge that very little that is accepted as known actually is.
Mistakes often lead to incredible discoveries.
She ran a hand over her diagram.
I don’t see how my teacher’s version could be incredible. Less is not better.
Despite how full the paper was, only a small number of names listed were circled with a yellow highlighter. Mrs. Chase had been very clear that every name not circled had to be removed.
Judy texted a request for her aunt to come to the office and looked over her paper again while waiting. Every single person she’d listed felt like family—how could they not be? More than that, the trimmed tree wouldn’t have the effect Judy was looking for. Rather than cheer her father, it would look small and limited.
Not what I want to give my father.