The entire breakfast room goes silent. The air stills. I hold my breath and carefully watch our father’s expression shift from concern to something heavier, something grey. Not shock, just discontent. It’s strange.
“Bill, don’t listen to him, he’s lying?—”
“No, he’s not,” Dad interjects, his tone clipped as he looks at Sheila. “I’ve known for a long time.”
My brothers and I are speechless. Sheila’s jaw makes a run for the floor as she sits back with a gasp.
“Oh, Bill…”
“I figured there had to have been something between you and Cole. He always hated you the most,” Dad says, sighing heavily. “I knew they’d never accept another woman in my life after their mother passed away, but I had the right to at least try and move on. When I met you, I knew it was you.”
This feels like a bomb that fizzled out, instead of going off with a boom. Even Sheila is surprised by hisreaction.
“The past is the past,” Dad adds. “I figured Cole would get over it eventually.”
“It’s a shame he didn’t,” Sheila says and chuckles lightly. Of course, she couldn’t miss another opportunity to take a swing at my brother.
“You haven’t made it any easier,” I shoot back. “And telling Willow about it was a dirty play. You know it. We all know it.”
Dad gives Sheila an aggrieved frown. “You did what?”
“We had a heated argument during the Christmas lunch,” she replies with a defensive shrug. “But it’s like you said, honey, the past is in the past. Willow should have the maturity to deal with it like… well, like you did, my love.”
“Dammit, woman, that’s Cole’s past to share with the girl,” Dad snaps.
Cole nods slowly. “I’m sorry, Dad, for what it’s worth. I should’ve told you sooner. I just didn’t know how.”
“I was angry for a while after I put two and two together, I’ll admit. But life is too short for any of that. I found love again, and I didn’t want to let anyone or anything get in the way of that,” Dad replies, then frowns at Sheila again. “The boys are right, though. I adore you, honey, but you make it hard to be around you sometimes. And I’ve seen the way you treat Willow. It’s not nice.”
Sheila dismisses the entire argument with the flick of her wrist. “Oh, please, darling. Your sons are better off without that gold digger coming for their fortune. It’s bad enough they insist on sharing a woman. They might as well bring home someone worthy of the Morgan name, at least.”
I slap the table so hard, it startles everyone, including my brothers. Glasses fall. Water spills and seeps into the white linen.
“The only one who’s unworthy of the Morgan name is you,” I growl. “Willow always bothered you because she’s a self-made woman who never had to spread her legs for fortune and comfort.”
“Tobias!” Dad snaps. “Enough!”
I get up and toss the napkin across the table. “No, Dad, it needs to be said. I get it now. That’s why Sheila hates Willow so much, why she got Terrence to break off the engagement, though I can’t say I’m sad about that because it gave us an opportunity to step in and treat Willow the way she deserves to be treated.”
“You’re being ridiculous,” Sheila huffs.
“And you’re projecting,” I reply. “Calling a self-made woman a gold digger because you never had the drive or the self-respect to do what she did. Willow doesn’t need our money or our name. She’s building her own despite your constant attacks, despite your negative press and numerous attempts to destroy her business.
“That’s what pisses you off the most, in fact,” I add, a cold smile stretching over my face as I recognize the simmering rage in those conniving green eyes. “That Willow keeps getting back up after every punch and every kick in the gut. You hate her because you could never be her.”
Dad gasps and sucks in a deep breath. He’s as white as a sheet of paper, his eyes about to roll in his head.
“Bill!” Sheilacries out.
Cole unbuttons Dad’s shirt to help him breathe better, while Asher calls the emergency services.
“Give him some room,” Cole warns Sheila.
She slaps his hand away. “Get off, you bastard! You and your brothers are the reason he’s getting sicker and sicker every day!”
“Dad, can you hear me?” I call out.
But the old man is close to passing out. His fingertips are turning purple, and his breathing is ragged, his chest struggling to rise.
