I knew right then, no words would sway her. She was snowed by Ulric’s phony care. I finally bailed, gutted but set.
Had to pull my daughter clear. So I rang a pal who’s a skip tracer. Days later, he dropped a file on Ulric’s rough road of flops and betting bugs.
This was my in to show Pomeline Ulric’s real deal and reel her home. The file flagged Peregrine K., Ulric’s old work buddy, ditched ’cause of Ulric’s screw-ups. File said Peregrine hit a spot called Le Beans Café, a small joint out of town.
I snagged the number for Peregrine and dialed. At Le Beans Café, under its low lamps, I linked with Peregrine. Life had roughed him, but he was game to dump Ulric’s betting mess.
Wanted to shield my girl from Ulric. After that night meet with Peregrine, I hit Ulric’s go-to casino, posing as “Quillan,” a loaded guy from Texas. Dressed the part, story locked.
Dropped at Ulric’s table, I grinned. “Welcome, Quillan. Hot round tonight.
Feeling it?”
I played smart, cards and all, and pulled a royal straight, topping Ulric’s draw. He faked cool, but I caught the shake. “Looks like new guy’s charm,” Ulric snarled.
“Or some just play straight,” I said, grin slow as he clocked me. “Shock to spot me, Ulric?”
He paled, wheels turning. “Eamon?
What’s the play?”
“It’s about Pomeline. Back off, and we’re even,” I said flat, no room. “Or,” I tossed in, “pay the tab now.
Cash. And say I got… creative ways to chase old owes.”
“Fine, I’ll steer clear,” he grumbled. I walked the casino high but edgy.
Ulric folded too quick, and I couldn’t shake the itch this wasn’t done with Pomeline. Next morning, mad rushed me as Pomeline’s message played again. Why skip my rings, kid?
Panic pushed me to ping her pal, Delyth, who chirped about Pomeline’s ring party with Ulric, news that floored me. “Ring party? With Ulric?” I reeled.
“Yeah! Pomeline skip you? Come on, Mr.
Hale. At The Grand Springs, kicks at eight,” Delyth said, blind to my spin. Hitting The Grand Springs, I eyed Pomeline glowing happy, Ulric smooth with the crowd.
Pulse hammered as I nabbed Ulric, heat max. “We talk, now,” I said, yanking him aside. “Now?
Mid-party?” Ulric smirked, but I dragged him to a still bathroom to hash it. “You figure you stroll in and snag my girl’s life?” I pressed, pinning him to wall. “She picks me.
And your messy past? Could wreck you,” Ulric fired, hinting he held dirt on me that’d cut deep. “But you won’t snag her.
Not while I breathe!” I shot, though his jab at spilling my old slips to Pomeline shook me. “Two ticks, Hale. Then I buzz guards,” Ulric warned, leaving me twisted.
“You think you halt this, Pop? She wants me. And if you swing, if she spots one mark on me, she’ll cut you cold.
That your wish, Hale? Ditched by your girl?”
Hate burned for that old snake, but he nailed it. Pomeline already leaned off me.
Couldn’t risk her gone for good. Beat and busted, I hit outside, city glow mocking my fail to yank Pomeline from Ulric’s web. Dropped on a bench, face in hands, swamped.
Mid-wallow, a cough pulled me. Looked up to a tall woman with silver hair, soft in the dim. “Mr.
Hale, yeah?” she asked low. “Amabel? Ulric’s sis?” I clocked her, thrown.
She tipped a small grin. “Right, crossed before… At Ulric’s, when you tried pulling your girl,” she jogged. I spilled the Ulric scam quick and how he snowed Pomeline.
“You in on it too, right?”
“That sneaky rat,” Amabel spat at last. “Burned it all—our folks’ cash, my stage savings from years… all to chase bets.”
“We could shut him,” I said, sensing she’d back it. “What’s the angle?” Amabel asked.
I sketched the setup and floated starter cash. “Call this kickoff,” I said. “I’m game,” she said, hooked.
So we rolled the play at the wedding. Amabel mixed as plain guest. Right as Ulric slid the band on Pomeline’s finger, a young woman popped up yelling, “He’s full of it!”
Then another rose, spilling Ulric’s cons.
More jumped in, all airing his dirt. Ulric pushed back. “Nah, they’re faking!
Don’t know ’em,” he said, crumbling as his mask dropped for all. Plan clicked. The wedding flipped to Ulric’s scam spotlight for everyone.
In the thick heat, an older woman stepped to Pomeline. “Don’t buy his game, kid. He’s bad news.
Bolt while you can! Me too, burned,” the woman said firm. On video link, I watched Pomeline shatter as she chucked her ring, her happy bubble burst.
This capped the scheme I’d cooked with Amabel and her actor crew to bare Ulric’s truth. Pomeline fled the spot, gutted, but it was the lone way to yank her from a wreck. Then it ramped when cops rolled to cuff Ulric, nailing he’d face his tab at last.
Cost a bundle for Amabel’s crew, but seeing my girl loose from Ulric paid every cent. Hitting Pomeline’s later, it wrecked emotional. “Dad, sorry.
Should’ve heard you,” she sobbed. I hugged tight and flashed a ticket to Boston, nudge to her fashion sketch dream. “Time fresh start, chase what lights you,” I said.
She eyed me, thankful and lit. “Thanks, Dad. Love you,” she said.
This mess drove home how key it is to stick for our kids and go all-in to shield ’em. If I’d stuck closer for Pomeline, she’d never bit on a snake like Ulric. I grabbed the hard truth and set my girl first from here.
