Maureen looked at him and opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. She knew she couldn’t tell him the entire truth about why Vincent did what he did. But she had no qualms about telling him about the company and the insurance money. That alone was enough to bury her.
“The reason it was a secret, honey, is because at that time Capshaw was starting to go under. The life insurance policy we had wouldn’t have paid out if it were a suicide, and we neededmoney to keep Capshaw’s doors open,” Maureen confessed, searching his face.
She tried to decipher how angry he was.
“What money issues? I’ve certainly never heard of them, and as far as I know, neither had Paula. So please, explain to me why he killed himself and what proof you have for any of this?”
“He left a letter,” Maureen replied quietly.
Kayden let out an exasperated sigh as he now stomped around the dining room.
“You kept this from me for over five years? And you wonder why I don’t trust you? And probably never will? Do you have the letter? Can I see it at least?”
Maureen dropped her head, knowing he would ask, and, anticipating it, she had the letter with her. When he decided to fact-check, it wouldn’t make any sense to deceive him even more. Lana already knew anyway, and her threat to come clean was one Maureen took seriously. She slid the old envelope from under her dinner place setting and handed it to him. He walked toward her slowly and reached for the letter while locking eyes with her again.
“Kayden, please, please, understand that I never wanted you to find out like this, let alone at all.”
“I want to know what was so important that you had to help Kim out of jail after she did what she did.”
Kayden took the letter from her and began to pull it from the envelope. Maureen grabbed Heathcliff’s hand in anticipation of what her son was about to read about her and his biological father. Kayden began reading aloud, making the entire ordeal that much harder to bear. She hadn’t heard those terrible words in so long, and she hoped she would never have to again.
“Maureen, I’ve dedicated twenty-five years of my life to you and to our three children, and I’ve never given you any reason to doubt me as a father, a friend, or as a partner. We’ve just lost one of our sons, and it’s too hard for me to bear anymore. Perhaps I could have in time, if I had never run across your emails to Judge Hartwell. I saw your correspondence asking him to help Kayden out in the cases the state wanted to bring against him for the accident, as well as many others. I always wondered why you’d often run to him for help when it came to our son in the first place, but I trusted you, which was my first mistake.
You see, Maureen, your last email, where you begged him to help and he wanted to refuse, was the first time in the 200 emails that you ever used the words “He’s your son”. I love Kayden regardless, but I fear the added pain of your countless betrayals on top of my current personal torture is just too much to withstand. My body, mind, and heart are too weak to carry this. Allow Kayden to read this letter. Explain to him that your deceit doesn’t change the way I feel about him and, most importantly, make sure he knows this isn’t about him. I love him as my own and always will.”- Vin
The letter slipped from Kayden’s numb fingers. It didn't sail; it just... dropped, landing silently on the marble floor. Everything around him didn't just slow down; itstopped. The air in the loft felt like it had been violently sucked into a vacuum, leaving his lungs burning. He looked across the room, his gaze locking onto his mother’s face.
Not only was the man he knew as his father, Vincent, dead. Not only was his brother gone. But Vincent hadkilled himself. Because ofher. Because he couldn't deal withheranymore. And she had let him grieve a different man, a different lie, for his entire life. She kept it from him.All of it.
Maureen stood from the table but didn’t move, her frail, trembling form a sickening, grotesque contrast to the monstrous size of her deception. She looked like she might topple over, but he felt no pity—only ice. The pristine, "heavenly" room started to spin, tilting violently on its axis, and suddenly Kaydencouldn't breathe.
He was moving—a blur of pure, animal panic he’d never experienced before. He wasn't in the room, and then he was at the front door of the loft, yanking it open, stumbling into the private hallway.His whole life was a lie.The thought wasn't a whisper; it was a deafening, internal roar.
The judge. The judge he'd seen in his court files, the one his mother had mentioned.Hartwell.Hewas his father? He rolled the name around in his head, a foreign, bitter, and unwelcome taste. He made it to the elevators, his good hand shaking so violently he could barely press the 'down' button, jabbing it again, and again, and again—as if the force of his panic could make it arrive faster.
The private elevator doors slid open. He stepped inside, and as they closed, sealing him in the small, suffocating steel box, it hit him.
Hartwell.
Joshua Hartwell. The son of a bitch who was systematically and maliciously trying to hold up the hotel renovations. The judge’s son.
His half-brother.
The realization slammed into him, more brutal and gut-wrenching than any car crash, stealing the very air he'd just found. A raw, guttural sound tore from his throat. Kayden bent forward, bracing his good hand on his knee, and cried. He wept uncontrollably, his body shaking with the force of a lifetime of deception collapsing in on him.
He slammed his open palm against the 'Stop' button. The elevator lurked, halting with a metallic groan. He heaved, gagging on the betrayal, and willed himself to pull it together. He needed one thing. One person. Onetruth.
Lana.
She was the only truth he had left, and he needed her.Now.
He stabbed at the 'Lobby' button. When the elevator door finally opened, he made his way—almost stumbling—out of the opulent lobby and into the shocking, cold slap of the New York night. He grabbed his phone from his pants pocket, his thumb shaking as he scrolled for her name. He pressed on it, listening to the electronic ring, waiting to hear her voice more than he’d ever wanted anything in his entire life.
SURROUNDED BY TOWERING cardboard boxes,Lana settled at her computer desk as iTunes filled the room with her latest obsession—“Spitting Off the Edge of the World” by Yeah Yeah Yeahs. On repeat. On the screen, she perused her Instagram DMs, filled with more messages than she couldimagine. Messages like “get better soon”, “we’re praying for you”, “I’d killed that bitch”, hundreds, maybe thousands of them.
Of course, the last message was in reference to Kim, and it made her giggle. But then there were some not-so-good messages sent to her too: messages like “Kayden is an ass”, “Why do smart women always go for the ass holes”, and “If I were her, I’d run for the hills”. As much as she tried not to let the words of complete strangers bother her, she couldn’t help that they echoed in her mind.
It was like standing in the hallway of her parents’ house that night when Sam said much of the same things to her. Things about Kim and Maureen that still left her feeling uneasy and frightened. Although he was in no position to give her any sort of advice, she had to admit the uncertainty was accurate. Having had her fill of the messages, she closed the window and opened a new tab in her browser.
