Ch. 21..25: Fall For My Ex’s Mafia Dad Chapter 21-25

Chapter 21

I gasp, my eyes going wide, and then - instantly, like flipping a light switch - I come back to myself.

"Oh my god!" I shout, putting my hands up against his chest and shoving him. "Oh my god you are so gross!"

He laughs then, truly entertained but not moving at all against my pushes. After three or four, though, Kent takes a step back, letting me push past him and dash across the room. I spin when I get to my desk, leaning back against it, my breath coming fast. Kent stands calmly by the door, watching me, laughing.

God, I hate him.

My lips curl back a little as I sneer at him, this horrible man, torturing me after - after what he did to those people in the basement -

"Oh come on, Fay," he purrs, putting his hands in his pockets. "You were the one who was so curious to see what was going on in the basement, even after I told you to leave. You should be brave enough to admit that you wanted to see it, that you liked it." "I did not," I say, stamping my foot a little. "I went down to get my phone -" I scramble at the pants of my jeans, producing it as if it's evidence and tossing it on the desk. "I definitely didn't want to see anything that was going on in that room -"

"Fay," he says, his voice light and tempting, almost sing-song. "I saw you, Fay. I saw you crouched down, peering into the room. You weren't just passing by. You stopped. You opened the door so that you could watch me." I snap my mouth shut, staring at him.

He's right, of course. I was tempted. I did look. God, seriously, what was wrong with me?

He laughs softly again at me again, at the expression of guilt on my face.

Slowly, he takes three steps towards me, sliding his hands into his pockets. "If you're going to be in my house, Fay," he says. "You'll follow my rules. Was I not clear about that before?"

Quickly, I shake my head. I've known since the moment I walked into this house that Kent's will is law. I watch him as he slowly takes two more steps in my direction.

"If you don't follow my rules, Fay," he says, coming ever closer. "You will be punished. Do you want me to punish you?"

I don't move - don't answer.

A perverse part of me considers the question - actually considers whether -

"No," I say quickly. "No, I'm sorry, I won't do it again."

Kent shakes his head, a little closer right now. Fear rises in me, but so does anger. Why is he still coming closer? I promised him I wouldn't do it again - what else does he want from me? "It doesn't work that way, Fay," he says, prowling. "You broke the rules once. You just told me you did. Now, you have to take your medicine."

He's only feet from me now. I lean back against the desk, desperate for even a few more inches of space. Then, I see him smile, just a tiny thing at the corner of his mouth and realize -

God damnit, he's enjoying this.

Something in me snaps. I stand up straight. "Don't you come any closer to me," I hiss the words from between my teeth.

Kent laughs lightly, continuing to draw nearer. He likes this, I realize. Likes pinning me back in the corner. He's already gotten everything he needs - my apology, my promise that I won't do it again - and yet, he's pushing...

"Why shouldn't I, Fay," Kent says softly, almost a whisper. "What are you going to do to me," his eyes flick over me as he says it, "if I take one. More. Step?"

He's bearing down on me, his face again inches from mine. "Are you going to run again, Fay?" he asks, so softly only I can hear. "I'll just catch you."

My heartbeat ratchets up as I look up at him, at his powerful face, the complete control in his eyes.

Then, I do the only thing I can think of.

I tilt my head back and scream.

Surprisingly, Kent flinches at this, taking a step back. I look back at him as I run out of breath, my eyes wide, a pinch of joy lighting in me as I realize that I actually rattled him, just a little. Building on the effort, I throw my head back again, taking a deep breath, getting ready to let it all out when he grabs me -

"God damnit, Fay," he growls, slapping a hand across my mouth and pulling me to him so that my left shoulder is crunched against his chest. "What do you think that is going to do!?"

But I look up at him with a little bit of victory in my eyes. He wouldn't be shutting me up if he thought it wasn't going to do anything. He'd let me scream myself hoarse if he didn't care.

He gives me a little shake - nothing rough, just enough to try to teach me he's in control - but I just laugh against his hand, perhaps a little manic now -

The fear is still coursing through me, but along with it is something else - adrenaline, maybe -

God damnit, was he right? Was my body responding to something in this, to the challenge, or the danger of it all?

"Fay, I'm going to let you go, but if you scream again, I swear -"

But just then, the door to my room swings open and my fiancé bursts into the room, panic and worry on his own face, his eyes flying wide when he sees me wrapped in his father's arms, his hand over my mouth. "What the hell is going on here?!" Daniel shouts, striding over to us.

Kent lets me go instantly and I gasp in fresh air, falling back against the desk.

Daniel stops by the bed, his father between us. His eyes sweep over me, ascertaining that I'm okay, before turning with anger to his dad. "What were you doing to her?!"

Kent has regained his composure faster than I thought he would. Cooly, he slips his hands back into his pockets and gives Daniel a little smirk. "Nothing, Daniel. Everything is fine."

Daniel's gaze slips to mine, looking for confirmation. I hesitate for a moment, looking between father and son, and then give a little shrug, deciding not to push it. Kent has made his point - I need to do what he says - but if he was really going to hurt me, he'd have done it by now.

"See?" Kent says, looking at his son. "She's fine."

With that, Kent strides from the room, brushing past his son and not giving me another look. Confused, Daniel looks after him, and then turns to me.

"Am I crazy?" He asks. "Or did I hear you scream?"

I sign and sink onto the bed. "You're not crazy," I say. "I did."

"But you're okay?"

I nod as he sits down next to me, concern all over his face. I have to admit that I am a little surprised by it - all this time I think I thought, at least a little, that I'm just a pawn in Daniel's life. It feels good to know that he cares about me enough to come running when he hears that I'm in trouble.

"I just...well, I broke a rule," I say, twisting my hands together and grimacing at him. Daniel groans, starting to calm down a bit.

"Yeah," he says, giving a little laugh. "He does not like that. What did you do?"

"Um," I bite my lip, trying to decide where to start. I was watching some of your dad's homemade porn in the basement doesn't seem like quite the auspicious beginning, so I jump ahead. "He told me not to go into the basement. And I did. And I saw him..." I hesitate, wondering how much he knows.

Daniel's face drops, going a little pale. "I'm sorry, Fay," he says softly. "Some of the stuff that goes on down there...is...did anyone get hurt?"

I nod a little and he puts a hand on my shoulder.

"Does it happen often?" I ask softly.

"I don't really know," he says, shrugging. "I saw it once as a kid and then...I never went down again. Honestly, I think my dad was a little disappointed in me. He doesn't want me to be...well, a sissy. And I ran away crying."

I bite my lip at this, feeling for Daniel, who is sensitive. After a beat, I feel a question rise in me.

"Daniel?" I ask. "How are you going to inherit this family, its...business... if you can't handle its methods?"

He shakes his head at me, looking sad. "I ask myself that all the time. I don't think even my dad has an answer. Honestly, sometimes it feels like he's fighting so hard to keep this family's power together so that he can give it to me, pass it on to future generations, but...if it were up to me, maybe I just don't want it."

I nod, understanding. But I also know that there's so much at stake - even if Daniel were to give up the family's business, it would cause a power vacuum in the city that could be disastrous, even lethal to the people he loves. He's in a tough place, and I feel for him. "I'll do my best," Daniel says, looking at me seriously. "To protect you from all of that, in the future."

I nod, smiling at him softly at his generous offer. But inside, part of me remembers the rush, the adrenaline, and wonders whether I want him to keep that promise.

 

Chapter 22

As I fall into the routines of the Lippert house I'm surprised to find that I'm quickly bored by them. Life at my home with David and Janeen was also boring - but they're just normal people. A little of me, I think, expected everyday gang life to be more exciting. It's not that the house is empty, really. Every day starts with a flurry of activity. Breakfast in the kitchen is a big affair, with everyone rushing through. Kent's top guys - mostly older gentlemen - drink their tiny glasses of espresso at a table in the corner, bantering. Lower-level guys, dressed in thousand-dollar sweatsuits, run briskly through, reporting and getting new orders.

Guards are all around - watching everything, but mostly wishing, I think, that they were important enough to be included with the others. If they work hard enough, though, they can level up.

As the day passes, everyone spreads out to do their work. Daniel goes out a lot - to school, mostly, wrapping up his spring semester. I've been expressly forbidden to go out with him, to school or anywhere else. Apparently, I'm still a kidnapping target. Kent has told the Mafia world that I'm out there, but until he locks me down as part of his family I'm forbidden any freedom.

The first day Daniel left me behind, Fiona had come into the house just as he was leaving. Seeing my sad face, she wrapped an arm around my shoulders, her voice full of pity.

"I know," she said, giving me a little squeeze. "It's like you're a mafia widow already, stuck in this house. May as well dress yourself head to toe in black crepe and spend your day saying the rosary for his soul."

"At least it would be something to do," I moaned, slumping my shoulders forward in misery. "It's so boring here."

And it really is. Again, not that there's not a lot going on in this house at all times, it's just that I'm...not at all a part of it.

Everyone - the guards, the captains, the made guys - they're all very nice and polite to me. They smile at me when they pass me in the hall. But no one really talks to me, even if I try. I get the impression that Kent expressly forbade it. My only friend is Fiona, and she's very sweet, but we don't have a lot in common.

Fiona is, I think, a mafia boss's dream girlfriend. She's sweet, funny, and has enough bite in her wit to keep from being boring. She's incredibly sexy, but she spends most of her day building and maintaining that sexy appearance for Kent.

When she's not here, she's out getting her hair and her nails done. When she's in the house, she's doing aerobics, or facials and beauty treatments, or playing with makeup and clothes. Fiona always looks stunning and keeps up with the latest fashions, but it's a ton of work.

Fiona has swept me up in her world a bit. I think she likes it, giving me a whole master's course in makeup and hair care that I never, ever would have even thought about before she came along.

But so much of the world just seems...ridiculous to me, though I'd never say it to her. For instance, once, her Botox doctor came by the house and she asked me if I wanted a little. "Just here and here," she had said, tapping the corners of her eyes and between her eyebrows.

Worried, I had touched my fingers gently to my skin in those places. "Seriously? Do I need it?"

Laughing, she had told me that I didn't. "It's just preventative," she said, snapping her bubblegum as she leaned back in her chair and let the doctor do his work. "If you start when you're twenty, you'll look thirty when you're fifty."

I had smiled at her and declined the treatment. What, really, was the problem of looking fifty when you're fifty? After all, Kent was forty and he looked -

Well. I cleared my throat and moved my thoughts on to something else.

I am less tempted by the enticements of Fiona's super-feminine lifestyle, I think, because I already had a sister who delved into all of that sort of stuff. Sure, strippers are all about being sexy while being a mafia side piece is all about being luxe, but there was some overlap. And it just wasn't for me.

Instead, I missed my work. Missed going to the office to meet with my colleagues, missed helping people, even missed going to the prison to interview inmates - though I never thought I'd miss that. I missed going to the coffee shop, missed studying and finding new books. And while Kent has given me free reign to order any books - or really, anything I want - it's just not the same.

I miss my life. And I'm terribly, terribly bored.

Kent and Daniel know, of course. Daniel because I've told him and Kent...well, because Kent knows everything. I stopped begging him for a little freedom a while ago - the answer was always no. Now, I mostly plead wordlessly, with my eyes, my expression. He knows I'm miserable here, but he still won't let me out.

I'm staving off my boredom, today, by painting my toenails in the back garden. Fiona has given me an elaborate manicure kit, telling me to practice, so my feet and hands are far, far more polished than they've ever been. I sigh as I finish painting a lavender sheen on my pinkie toe. What the hell am I going to do next?

I jump, then, as a box smacks on the ground next to me - a big one, as long as my arm. I look up at the back door with wide eyes, shocked to see Kent standing there, leaning against the frame with his arms crossed. "Put those on," he says. "We have somewhere to be."

Frowning, I lift the box into my lap and open the top, gasping a little as I see a pair of the most gorgeous boots. They're tall, nearly knee-high, and made of supple black leather with a delicate little buckle around the ankle. "Where are we going?" I ask, my face lighting up. Honestly, I don't care - out of the house it sounds like, so I'm thrilled either way.

"You'll see," he says, turning and heading towards the garage. "Meet me by the car when you're ready."

I quickly pull on my socks, not caring that it will ruin my pedicure, and then tug the boots on as quick as I can. I have to force my foot in all the way to the bottom, tugging hard at the top - there's no zipper to help. But, when I finally get them on, they fit perfectly. As usual, Kent has guessed my size to perfection. I admire the boots for a moment and then spring to my feet, running to the car.

Kent drives us in silence to wherever we're going, but I do note the subtle smile playing on his lips. I've stopped asking about our destination - he never tells - so I just spend my time gazing out at the landscape as we pass. We're out of the city now - just about fifteen minutes, really - but how I've missed the sight of a variety of nature beyond what Kent's little back garden can offer.

I'm surprised to see him slow in what seems like the middle of nowhere, turning towards a simple gravel drive crossed with a metal gate. He presses a button on the roof of the car and the metal gate slowly swings open. I look closely, but I can't see anything beyond

it. "Are we here?" I ask, frowning at him.

He looks at me and nods. I see that he can't help but smile a little, so I smile too and sit up in my seat, looking eagerly out the windshield. Then I just wait, a little breathlessly, to see where he's taken me.

 

Chapter 23

We drive a little down the lane, over a slight rise, and then a barn comes into sight. A beautiful barn, really, immaculately cared for and painted in shades of gray. Three little gables peak out of the roof and two little cupolas crown it, weathervanes at their peeks. "Oh!" I say, completely charmed by the sight. But then I see the real draw. In a series of pastures beyond the barn, my eyes can just barely see a group of horses grazing in the afternoon light. "Oh!" I say, louder this time, far more thrilled. "Is this a stable?!"

Kent laughs as he turns the car into a parking spot next to the barn. "I thought you'd like it," he says seriously. "One look at you and anyone could tell you grew up dreaming of horses."

I nod fervently, scrambling to unbuckle my seatbelt and open the door at once. "Can we see them?!" I ask, my words falling over each other in my hurry. "Can I feed them? Do they have any foals?!"

He laughs at me as I almost fall out of the car, climbing calmly out himself. Before I can dash into the barn, he holds out an arm to stop me. "Let me take the lead here, all right, Fay?"

I look up at him, shining with joy, and nod. I quickly look back towards the entrance but then do a double-take, looking back at his face, which is somehow...gentler? Kinder?

We both pause, taking each other in, distracted. But then he blinks, walking calmly into the barn. I follow closely at his heels.

"Sir!" someone says - a young man with sandy hair down to his shoulders. He's dressed almost like a cowboy, with jeans tucked into western boots and a button-down plaid shirt. He gives me a happy nod and then turns his attention back to Kent. "He's all ready for you, gentle as can be. A real beauty."

Kent nods to the man and looks beyond him. "Well, I'm ready if you are."

The man bobs his head and the three of us walk through the stable to the last stall on the right, which the groom pulls open. Kent walks up to the open door and leans on the far side of it, nodding into the stall. "What do you think, Fay?" he asks.

Slowly, so excited I can barely breathe, I peak around the corner of the stall to see the most gorgeous thing I've ever set eyes on in my life.

"Oh," I say again, though this time it's barely a breath of air puffing out of my lips as I take another step forward and cover my mouth with my fingertips, just staring at him.

A beautiful blood bay gelding stands in front of me, an Arabian by the arch of his neck and the height at which he holds his tail. The horse gently paws at the shavings of his stall, looking over at us curiously.

My eyes sweep over him, his glossy mane, his wide and gentle eye. And immediately, I know it. I'm in love.

"Can I..." I say, glancing over at Kent. "Can I go in? Can I touch him?"

Kent laughs and nods at me. Beyond him, I can see that the groom is equally pleased. I turn quickly back to the horse, taking a gentle step forward. The skin on his shoulder twitches a little, but otherwise he does not balk as I walk towards him.

I hold out a hand towards his nose, palm up, and he gently lips my palm, saying hello, checking to see if I have a snack. Slowly, I raise my other hand to run over the rich blaze that runs down his face, stepping close to run a hand over his velvety neck. "Do you like him?" Kent asks, behind me.

I turn back and glare at him a little. What a stupid question. Then I turn back to the beautiful horse as I stroke his silky mane.

"I thought you might," Kent says, laughing. Then he pauses. "I'm rarely wrong in my choice of presents. Never, really."

I freeze at his words. What -

Did he mean -

Slowly, I turn back to him and see him smile at my shock.

"He's yours, Fay," Kent says to me. "If you want him."

I embarrass myself then by bursting into tears.

Kent nods to the groom, who quickly disappears. Then, laughing at me a little, Kent joins me in the stall. He, too, raises a hand for the horse to inspect before stroking the animal's nose.

"Who knew," Kent says, looking at the horse. "Here I was trying to cheer you up, and all I've done is make you cry." He smiles down at me. "Guess I'll have to send him back to where he came from."

"Don't you dare," I growl at him, giving him a little shove away from my horse. Then, I bite my lip.

"Really?" I ask, looking up at Kent. "He's mine?"

Kent shrugs. "This whole stable is mine, full of horses. What's the harm in you having just one?"

"And I can come and see him?" I ask, desperate for it, hungry with anticipation.

"Under guard," he says, looking at me seriously. "Yes, you can come every day, if you want."

A smile spreads over my face and I resist the urge to throw my arms around him, so thrilled am I. But, I have more questions.

"Why?" I ask, a little breathless now. "Why did you do this for me?"

Kent leans back against the low wall. "Because I could tell you were miserable, Fay. You might not believe it, but I don't take pleasure singularly in making people unhappy. I want you to be safe, for Daniel's sake, as his future bride," he looks at me carefully, "but there's no reason you should be so sad about this life."

I look down at the floor of the stall. Have I been that obvious? I knew that he noticed, but I wasn't aware that his perception ran so deep.

"Also," he says, standing up straight again and putting a finger under my chin to lift my face up. "You have been a good girl, Fay. I have noticed. No more illicit trips to the basement, no more obstinate disobedience." He smirks, then. "Or at least, not much."

I keep my face expressionless, not really wanting to tell him that I wasn't being good for his sake. There just hadn't been a lot of opportunity for rebellion in the last few weeks. Or I might have taken it, for the sake of variety.

"When those in my care are good," he says carefully, studying my face closely, "they get presents. When they are bad, they get punished." He lowers his face, bringing it closer to mine.

My gaze shifts to his mouth, watching it form his words. "I'd recommend, Fay," he says softly, "that you stay on my good side. Then you can have more rewards."

A chill runs down my spine and a darker part of me - one that hasn't raised its head for awhile - wonders which one, really, I want more.

The horse nickers softly, nudging at the pocket of Kent's coat. Kent turns his attention away from me, chuckling. "All right, boy, you've found me out," he says, reaching into the pocket and producing two sugar cubes. He holds them out to the horse, who eats them eagerly from his palm. Then, Kent produces two more sugar cubes and hands them to me. "To get your friendship off right."

Kent takes a few steps back as I feed the horse, enjoying the feel of his coarse little mouth hairs against my palm. When he's finished eating, I go back to petting him, marveling at this beautiful creature. I can't believe that he's mine.

A few minutes pass in silence as Kent lets me get to know my new friend. Then, I hear his voice again.

"What will you name him?" Kent asks, still watching me from the doorway.

"Hmm," I say, considering it, looking at the horse. Then, I decide. "Heathcliff," I say.

Kent laughs at me and I turn to give him another little glare. "What? You don't like it? What's wrong with it?"

"Such an ugly name," he says, but there's no real bite in his words, "for such a beautiful horse. Why did you pick that?"

"Because," I say, turning to Heathcliff and smiling lovingly into his face. "Whatever souls are made of, his and mine are the same," I say, brushing his forelock away from his rich brown eyes. As if he understands me, Heathcliff presses his nose to my chest. A beat passes and then I look back to Kent, curious as to why he doesn't tease me further.

"Well well," he says slowly. "The young lady has read her Brontë, at least. Though I do wonder if such a great passion is a bit wasted on a horse."

I blink at him, shocked, really, that he understood my reference. I wouldn't have thought Wuthering Heights was on the reading list for the Mafia King. Then, I speak without thinking. "Well, I suppose that until a greater passion reveals itself, I will spend all my love on him."

Kent lifts himself from the wall, standing solidly in the stable doorway with his arms crossed. "I wonder what my son would say to that," he says, low and soft.

I blink at him, panicking suddenly as I realize my mistake. I have just tacitly admitted that there is no passion between me and Daniel.

Neither of us say a word for minute, but then kent turns away. "Come," he says, looking back towards the parking lot. "That's enough for now. You can come back in the morning, I'll have my trainer here. We'll see whether or not you can ride."

I take a quick moment to lay a kiss in the whorl of hair right in the middle of Heathcliff's forehead. "I'll be back soon," I whisper to him. "I'll bring you apples." He knickers in friendly response as I bolt the stable door and hurry after Kent.

I stare at the barn until it fades from my sight. Then, I turn back to the front of the car, steeling myself for the return to Kent's world. Because tonight, I know, he and my father have arranged something else for me.

Perhaps the horse was just a way to butter me up, get me on Kent's good side before the real trial.

 

Chapter 24

I'm alone in the back seat of the black sedan that takes me to dinner at my father's house.

I look up at the grey stone mansion and grimace, not looking forward to this. I know that there should probably be some curiosity in me, some desire to know more about my family and my heritage. But honestly? Lorenzo Alden doesn't feel anything like my father. That, to me, will always be David.

Kent sent two guards with me and instructed them to stay by me at all times. For protection, presumably, but also I think - to be Kent's eyes and ears at the meeting. Alden is his ally, but I think even the term "ally" in this underworld has some tenuous distrust built into it.

I had begged David to come with me but Kent denied that too. Alden, apparently, wanted me all to himself. Great. I was already awkward enough, now I have to go into this alone? It was definitely going to be a disaster.

The guards get out of the front of the car after they park and come around to open my door. I step out and sigh, wishing I was anywhere else. The stables, preferably, getting to know Heathcliff.

The three of us troupe up the front steps to the house and formally ring the bell. I twist my mouth at the irony here. If he's my dad - if this is my house - shouldn't I be able to walk right in?

A maid opens it for us, giving us a kind smile, and then opens the door wide in welcome.

As we step in, I stop dead in my tracks. The guards almost bump into me.

"Are you okay?" one asks - Jerome, I think. One of the friendlier guards in Kent's employ.

"Yes," I murmur in response, staring around the room.

But in reality? I'm totally not okay.

Walking into this house is like walking into a dream. I've been here before, I suddenly realize. I know things about this space - what's around some of the corners, what things will feel like, what it smells like. Even the rugs are familiar - a soft burnt orange, thick and plush underneath my feet. The arch that leads into the dining room - yes, I know that, and if I look just beyond it I'll find...

Yes, there. A hutch, filled with blue and white china.

"Oh my god," I murmur, looking around as I slowly walk through the dining room.

The maid looks at me hesitantly. "Dinner isn't ready yet, miss," she says. "If you'll come with me to the sitting room..."

I ignore her - not really meaning to be rude, but I can't help myself as I walk to the back of the room and push open the door to the kitchen. The avocado green fridge and stove are exactly as I remember them. Except, I didn't know that I did remember them. I hear footsteps behind me. "Familiar, is it?"

I turn to see Alden standing there. I look at him with wide eyes.

He looks around at the kitchen. "We couldn't keep you out of here," he says, "your mother, the maids, or me. You always wanted to come in and pull out all of the pots and pans. Pretend you were cooking. Or just bang on them."

I just stare at him, bewildered. I was only five when we went to live with David - it was certainly old enough to remember something. How did I remember nothing?

Alden indulges me for a moment and then nods back towards the living room. "Come," he says. "I want to introduce you to some people."

I follow, still staring around at the house. My house, where I lived, as a small child. As I consider it, I realize that they are not unhappy memories - I have no feelings of fear or trauma attached to this place.

Which, I suppose, is a good thing.

Alden leads me into the sitting room, my guards following closely behind. When we enter, I'm surprised to see a woman sitting there with a boy at her side and a baby in her lap.

"Fay," Alden says, putting out a hand to me. "I'd like to introduce you to Tristin, my wife." I blink at the woman, surprised. Why had no one mentioned to me that my father had remarried? "How - how do you do?" I ask, fumbling over the words.

She doesn't reply, simply giving me a cold look. She's a beautiful woman, petite, with dark hair and large hazel eyes. Her full pink lips are pursed with dislike.

"And this," Alden says, gesturing towards the children, "Is my son Romulus and my daughter Estrella. Your...ah. Your half siblings, I suppose." He runs a hand awkwardly through his hair.

I smile at Romulus, who looks up at me with excited eyes. He's the picture of his mother, really - dark hair, delicate pale skin, pretty hazel eyes. The baby is also very sweet, smiling up at me in her white bonnet. As I look at the three of them, I can tell that Tristin has dressed them in pale green to match her own outfit.

A glance at the green accents on Alden's suit suggest that he's part of their group as well. I look down at myself, dressed in sapphire blue. Perhaps she's sending me a message about exactly who belongs in this family.

"Welcome," Tristin says, her voice cold. She looks me up and down with distaste. I sigh, seeing that this isn't going to be an easy road.

"Thank you," I say, doing my best to give them all a smile as I lower myself awkwardly into a chair by the coffee table. We're silent as a maid brings in a silver tray with a tea set on it. As she lays it down on the table, I can't help but stare at it.

"Oh my god," I say, leaning in close to get a better look. "I remember this. There's a little chip..." I turn the sugar bowl halfway round and, indeed, there it is. Right on the rim.

Alden laughs a little but Tristin goes stiff in her seat. "Yes, well," she says, shifting uncomfortably. "If someone would let me replace it."

"Oh no," I say without thinking, looking up at them all. "It's such a beautiful set - you can't possibly -"

"Well if you're so fond of it," she says, glaring at me. "You shall take it with you when you go."

I bite my lip, realizing that it's not precisely a friendly gesture that she's making.

"In fact," she says, glaring at me and gesturing all around the room. "I guess all of this is yours now. So you should take it with you. Thank you so much for graciously letting me live among your inheritance for so many years." "I-" I start, but then I fade off, not knowing what to say. My inheritance? What was she talking about?

"Tristin," Alden says, leaning back in his chair, his voice low with warning.

"What," she says, turning to him. "Am I incorrect? Now that your first-born has returned, has been recognized by you, everything belongs to her."

"That is not," he says, "precisely the case, Tristin -"

"Oh please," she huffs, "just look at her, already prowling around the house, inspecting it like it's hers." She turns her cold eyes on me. "Will you wait until his body is cold before you come and claim it? Or will you turn me out before the funeral?" My mouth falls open as I look between them, my eyes finally settling on little Romulus, who looks about ready to bolt. Oh god, poor kid. Is this his life every day?

"I'm really not here -" I say, trying (and failing) to put on a cheerful smile, "to take anyone's inheritance - seriously, you can keep it all -"

"Lies," she hisses, standing up and clutching the baby to her chest.

"Tristin," Alden says, raising his voice, the rage growing in him. "You will sit, and treat my daughter with respect."

"Your daughter?!" she yells, appalled. Then holds the baby out towards him, right at his eye level. "This is your daughter! The one whose rights you are stripping to give to that girl who hasn't spent more than ten minutes with you in her entire life!"

I open my mouth to say something but Romulus shakes his head fervently at me, warning me against it. I close my mouth, then, trusting him to know his parents better than me.

My father and step-mother proceed to get into a blow-out fight, then screaming at each other, flinging insults and accusations left and right. Alden lifts his hand once in threat against his wife, and in response Tristin picks up a music box, hurling it at his face. He dodges, but ss soon as it crashes against the wall, Romulus flees from the room and one of my guards wraps his hand around my upper arm.

"Time to go," Jerome says, giving me a little tug.

 

Chapter 25

Willingly, I follow Jerome and my other guard out of the room and into the hall. The three of us scurry towards the door, guilt roiling in me to be the cause of so much strife. Before I step out the door, though, I hear a little voice call out behind me.

"Wait!" it says.

I turn to see Romulus running down the stairs, a little book in his hands. He dashes to meet me at the door. "I found this in my closet!" he says, "a long time ago!" He holds up the book to me and I can see that it's a very small photo album. I take it from him gently and flip it open, shocked to see that it's images of my mother's wedding day-

And, oh my god that I'm in them -

"That's you, right?" Romulus says, peeking at the pages of the book, pointing at the picture of my mother.

"No," I say softly. "That was my mom. Thank you for showing it to me, Romulus," I say, looking down at him gratefully. I push it back towards him, as the noise escalates in the next room. I hope that some day I'll be able to look through it more closely, but now, it definitely seems like time to go -

"No, I you can keep it," Romulus says, smiling up at me. "And maybe, when you come back, you can bring me a present." He gives me a big smile and I can't stop myself from laughing.

"A fair trade," I say and then jerk up, suddenly, at a crash I hear from the sitting room.

"You'd better go," he says, nodding at me.

"Will you be okay?" I ask, looking over his shoulder.

"Sure," he says, grinning at me with confidence. "This happens all the time."

"Miss," one of my guards says, again tugging at my arm.

"Okay," I say, following my guard. "It was nice meeting you!" I call back to - wow, to my little brother.

"You too!" he says, waving to me as I go.

As I sit in the car on the way home, I clutch the photo album in my hands, not yet ready to open and explore it. What the hell was I going to find inside?

Kent is waiting for me as I come back into the house. "Well?" He asks, smirking at me as he leans against the wall in the entry. "That was a fast little family dinner."

I glare at him a little, taking off my coat and handing it to the waiting housekeeper. "Why didn't you tell me I had a step-mom?"

He laughs then, low. "I wanted you to have the pleasure of getting to know Tristin Alden all on your own. Tell me, how long did it take her to kick you out? Five minutes? Ten?"

"More like three," I say, wrapping my arms around myself, the photo album pressed against my chest. "I indicated that I recognized the sugar bowl and she...didn't like that. Said I was stealing her kids' inheritance."

Kent laughs harder at that, shaking his head a little. Then, his eyes light on the photo album. "What's that?" he asks.

"Photos," I say softly, unwrapping my arms and looking down at the little leather-bound book. "Of my mom's wedding."

"Very interesting," he says, but thankfully he doesn't push it. "Dinner in twenty minutes," he calls after me as I head up the stairs. "Considering Alden didn't feed you."

I nod, but don't look back at him as I climb.

When I'm alone in my room, I sit on my bed and page through the album. It's shocking to me, how much is familiar and how much is a mystery.

I'm just a toddler in the pictures, so I guess it makes sense that I don't remember any of it, but even at a glance I can tell how precious I was to my father on this day. He had me standing at the altar with him as he said his vows to my mother, a hand on my little shoulder as I looked out to the crowd.

Then, there's another photo of their first dance with me crying, my arms wrapped around his leg, unwilling to let go. Both of my parents are laughing in that one, pleased, I can see, by my attachment to them - to him.

Then another, with my father feeding me a piece of wedding cake, laughing as I get icing all over my face. My heart sinks as I bear witness to the love on his face on that day, his happiness at being able to share it with the woman he loved as well as his child.

I suppose it really was a love match, then - my father and my mother. They had me first and, even though he could have just pushed her aside for someone else, he had married her, recognized me officially as his daughter.

My lips begin to tremble as I look through picture after picture of my parents' joy, their love for me, and I feel incredible shame that I don't remember any of it -

What must it have been like, just a few weeks ago, for my father to walk into that room to see me again - his little girl - and see that I had no idea who he was? That I had completely forgotten him?

I fall back against my pillows then, tears slipping down my cheeks. I know it's not my fault - I was just a little kid - but I feel absolutely rotten. I must have broken his heart into a million pieces.

My door creeks open again and I see Daniel's dark head peak in. "Fay?" he asks, hesitating. "Are you home already? Can I come in?"

"Sure," I say, wiping at my eyes.

"Are you all right?" he asks, pressing the door closed and coming to sit next to me on the bed. I nod, sniffing and working hard to contain myself.

"Yeah, just...looking through old pictures," I say, gesturing towards the album. Daniel picks it up and leafs through it.

"Oh wow," he says, looking between me and the woman on the page. "Fay, she looks just like you."

"I know," I respond, my eyes wide. "Obviously I remember what she looks like, from when I was a kid, but...I didn't realize I'd grown to resemble her so much."

He nods, still leafing through. Then he looks at me. "I can see how this would be hard for you. I never, ever go through my mom's old albums."

I nod, reaching out a hand for his, understanding. Life can be so terribly difficult sometimes, especially when you've lost a parent. It's a fine line, between wanting to remember them and missing them so horribly that all you want to do is run from the feeling. Daniel squeezes my hand and we both sit quietly together, having our separate thoughts.

I stare at the album - closed, now, on my duvet - and wonder what changed in her life. What made her go from that day, when she was so happy, to deciding to flee with me, to leave it all behind.

And I can't help but wonder if it will all be the same for me. I mean, I'm not in precisely the same situation - I'm not married to a man I clearly love, having borne his child - but in some ways, seeing my face in those albums, it feels like it's her again - repeating the past.

Am I really doomed to repeat it? Will I, too, find reason to flee from this world, to try everything I can to leave it behind and build a new life in hiding? Would it eventually take me out to?

And what, really, killed her? Was it really just a car accident, or is that too much of a coincidence, for a Don's bride to be killed so shortly after she fled?

Oh my god, was I going to die young as well?

I burst into tears again, fear and sorrow and panic flooding my body. Daniel puts his arms around my shoulders, confused, beginning to ask again what's wrong when the door opens again.

I look up to see Kent standing there, but I can't stop crying.

"What's all this?" Kent asks, crossing his arms over his chest, taking in Daniel's sad expression and my flood of tears.

I'm crying too hard to answer, but Daniel responds to him with a frown. "She's just having a hard day, dad," he says. "Leave her be."

"It's time for dinner," Kent says, ignoring his son. "Dry your tears and come down to eat before it gets cold."

I shake my head, sniffing again, working hard to stop crying - it's so embarrassing to cry in front of someone like Kent, who always has it together - but I can't. I take a deep breath and try to speak through my tears. "I'm not -" Hic - "Hungry." Is all I can manage. "You are hungry," Kent says, his voice low. "You've barely eaten all day!"

The tears start to come harder as he yells at me - I'm just completely overwhelmed. I watch him, watching me cry, see the anger in his face turn into something else - worry, pity, even fear.

"Stop that!" he yells, pounding a fist against the wall. I take a deep breath, working hard to do as he says - to obey. But I can't hold it in. Despite myself, the tears continue to roll down my cheeks, my chest wracked with repressed sobs.

"Dad!" Daniel says, getting to his knees on the bed. "Will you just get out of here!? She's having a hard time, and you yelling at her isn't doing anything to help!"

Kent just glares at us, first Daniel, and then me, and then storms from the room, slamming the door behind him.

We both wait a minute to see if it takes, but he doesn't come back. "Sorry about that," Daniel murmurs, leaning back against the pillows again.

"Why" I say, wiping at my eyes with a corner of the bed sheet "why was he so mad?"

Daniel shakes his head, still staring at the door. "Little known fact about my dad," he says. "He can't stand to see people he loves cry."

I sniff a little. "He seems okay watching you cry," I say, tentatively.

Daniel shrugs, considering. "Just the women, then. I guess."