“How about you?”

“What about me?”

“You said it’ll screw Kim’s life, but it’ll also screw yours.”

I lift a shoulder. “I can manage.”

“It’s okay if you can’t. You have me for that.”

“I don’t need you,” I mutter.

“I know. I’m just putting it out there in case you do.” He rises to his feet and places a hand on my shoulder. “You are my son, no matter what DNA tests say.”

I wiggle him away. “Sappy doesn’t suit you.”

“I figured as much.” He chuckles, the sound rare and I know it shouldn’t be taken for granted. Lewis Knight doesn’t laugh, at least not genuinely. He doesn’t stand there and offer his hand without expecting something in return.

For the first time in forever, I stare at him through a different lens.

He’s my dad.

While I respect Calvin, Lewis is my dad.

All biological ties be damned.

With that thought, I ask him something I would never ask of other people.

Kim is right, I’m too proud to ask for things. Help, for instance, or a brake to put on my life that’s spiralling out of control.

“Can you stop her?”

“I’ll do everything in my might,” he tells me.

“What if you can’t?”

“Worst-case scenario, we all have to leave the country.”

“Calvin, too?”

“Especially Calvin. He works for the diplomatic circuit and that’s even more scrutinised than politics. No scandals are allowed.”

“Shit.”

“I know, but we have to think about the worst-case scenario. I can always give her money, but she will never stop. Besides, I won’t deal with someone who threatens you.”

“Thanks…I guess.”

“No sarcasm this time?” He smiles.

“Don’t get used to it.”

He squeezes my shoulder. “I need you to focus on you now. Think about that program.”

“Fuck.”

“Fuck indeed, young man. This situation will not go on.”

And the dick Lewis is back. Good to see you again, Dad.

“Kim is worried about you,” he says.

I lift a brow. “Since when are you and Kim pen pals?”

“I told her the other day to tell me if she needs anything. I found her pacing in front of her house earlier and once she saw me, she ran to me and said these exact words, ‘You said to tell you if I need anything, and I do. Whatever you have to give me, give it to Xan. He needs help as much as I do; he’s just too proud to admit it. So don’t give up on him. One day he’ll look back and thank you for it and I will, too.’”

 

 

35

 

 

Kimberly

 

 

I can’t stay still.

Ever since Samantha showed up, I’ve been pacing the length of my room, back and forth like a trapped animal.

After I talked to Lewis, I spent time with Kirian and Dad. We played Scrabble, then we put my baby brother to bed. Now, I’m in my room, feeling out of sorts.

Dad just told me about what Samantha is threatening, and I might have died inside a little.

Yes, the threat of the press and being known as Xan’s sister is crippling, and the thought of media attention makes me shake, but that’s not the reason I’ve been on the verge of crying.

It’s Xander.

It’s the boy who was running after that red car when he was so small. It’s the image of his crying face and the sound of his screams as he begged Samantha to stay, right before he tripped and fell.

That image has never left my mind. It was pain in its truest form, raw and deep.

The fact that the same woman has returned to inflict a different type of pain on him makes me want to punch her in the face.

She disappeared for twelve years just so she could come back and ruin his life.

Our lives.

I retrieve my phone and check my messages. Nothing from him, so I type.

Kimberly: Are you there?

No answer.

Kimberly: You know I’m here for you. I’ll never leave, just like I promised.

Still nothing.

The thought that he’s out drinking or fighting freaks me out.

I tuck the phone into the pocket of my pyjamas and head to the kitchen for some Lady Grey tea – Dad may have made me a fan lately.

On my way downstairs, I text Ronan.

Kimberly: Did Xander come by?

Ronan: Who’s that? Oh, the traitor. If he shows up, he’ll be slaughtered.

Ronan: Want to come to my party of one?

Ronan: Or two if you count the weed.

I shake my head, then text Elsa.

Kimberly: Did Xander get in touch with Aiden?

Elsa: No. Is everything okay?

Kimberly: It’s fine. I’ll tell you tomorrow.

Elsa: This is Aiden, make it after tomorrow. Or better yet, next week.

I consider texting Cole, but I don’t dare to after what he witnessed the other week.

“It’s final, Jeanine. I’ve made my decision.”

Dad’s voice stops me in my tracks at the entrance to the kitchen. He’s at the table, talking to Mum with his usual cool tone.

Her head snaps in my direction as if she senses me. I freeze in place, and even my phone remains in my hand. I’m acting like a criminal who’s been caught stealing.

“It’s because of her, isn’t it?” Mum snarls, pointing an accusatory finger in my direction.

“No, it’s because of you. You’re not fit to be the mother of my children. This is long overdue.”

“I can’t believe you’re divorcing me because the brat cut her wrist.” She glares at me.

There’s that need to melt into the wall or to dig a hole in the ground and bury myself in it.

Since I was a kid, the moment Mum has looked at me like that, I’ve been reduced to nothing.

“Shut your mouth,” Dad scolds her. “I won’t allow you to speak to her in that manner.”

“I’ll speak to her however I please. I’m the one who gave birth to her, yet she hasn’t done anything to reward me for that sacrifice.” She shakes her head, staring me down. “I should’ve got rid of you when I could.”

“Jeanine, if you don’t shut up right now –”

“Maybe you should’ve,” I speak over Dad with a calm tone. “That way, I would’ve never had the misfortune of being your daughter.”

“What did you just say to me?”

“You were never a mother.” Now that I’ve started talking, I can’t stop. The words tumble from my mouth like a prayer. “You made me feel so insignificant and small that the thought of finishing my life became the first thing I’d wake up to and the last thing I’d sleep on. You made me believe I was a mistake, a disgrace, a disappointment, but I’m not. You are. You love yourself too much to care about any other human being. Your narcissistic type shouldn’t have been allowed to give birth to children. DNA doesn’t make you a mother, it makes you a vessel.”

She barges towards me, raising her hand. I stand my ground, glaring back at her.

Now that I’ve told her what’s on my mind, there’s no way she’ll be able to bring me down. Once upon a time, I used to slave for crumbs of her attention and approval, but now, I realise I was emotionally abused by this woman.