Though I didn’t do it for Dustin, when the time came, I was glad he was leading the charge. When they saw me, Mom and Dad balked and demanded I leave. Dustin was so direct and adamant about me staying they seemed shocked into submission. Though I knew that wouldn’t last.
Once we were settled on the couch, Dustin seemed to be losing his nerve. He hadn’t said anything. I peered around Kayla to glare at him. Promise or not, if he couldn’t find the words, I sure as hell could.
“Say what you are here to say, boy.” Dad leaned into the couch, resting his arm on its back like he was relaxing during a football game. “You were demanding enough a few seconds ago. Use up all your bravado?”
Mom flicked her gaze toward our couch, and I followed the trail. Kayla slipped her hand into Dustin’s and gave a squeeze.
Dustin looked over at her and glanced down to me. I nodded at him. He turned back to our father. And he didn’t follow our plan at all. “You’re the one who spread the stories about Randall. You tried, or maybe are still trying, to get people to make accusations about his behavior with their kids.”
I tried to keep my focus on Dad, but I couldn’t help but gape at Dustin. It was a good thing Kayla was between us, or I’d give into my new violent tendencies again. We all agreed we needed to coerce Dad into admitting it himself. That it would be the only way to nail him down. Not that we needed him to say it to believe the detective’s findings, but we wanted to hear the words from his own mouth. We needed to hear it. At least I did.
And our plans were wrong. Maybe Dustin realized that or became too nervous to remember our script. Whatever the cause, Dad gave us what we wanted. He answered as smoothly as if we’d inquired whether he’d asked the maid to make dinner reservations. He kept his eyes trained on Dustin. “Yes. What of it?”
Even in my shock at his easy admission, I glanced at Mom. Her expression of stone never wavered. Not even a blink. So she knew. I’d figured. But it still hurt to see the proof.
Again Dustin seemed at a loss for words. Kayla jumped in, which also wasn’t in the plan. “He’s your son. Your child. How could you do something like that to him?”
Dad didn’t look at her. “Dustin, I thought I’ve made it perfectly clear that you need to keep your wife under control.”
And Dustin was back. “You’re right, Kayla is my wife. Not my servant. No matter how you treat that….” Dustin gestured toward my mom, and for the first time, didn’t say what he was actually thinking. “How you treat Maureen. I’m not letting you disrespect her any longer. Kayla is my wife, the mother of my child, and stronger than me.”
Our father curled his lip into a sneer. “You won’t get any argument from me on that one, Dustin. She’s always been stronger than you. However, she will watch her tone in this house. And you will make sure of it.”
Dustin laughed, and all nerves seemed to have drifted away. “You don’t get it, do you? This is over. We’re done being controlled by you. You got one thing right. You’ve thrown in my face for years that Randall had more of a backbone than me. That he was the one with strength. Well, now he’s not the only one.”
Removing his arm from the back of the sofa, Dad leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. Looking more predatory than ever. “And how has that turned out for him, Dustin? Open your ignorant eyes.” He turned his gaze on me, and I winced. God help me, but I did. “I had told Dustin that you were the stronger of the two of you. However, I was wrong. Neither of my children are strong. Though I truly thought you were. I was astounded when the truth came out. That you were nothing more than a whore. My son. A Morgan. A whore! I’ll give it to you, Randall. That one shocked me, and there’s not much thrown at me that I don’t see coming. That you were a prostitute? Nearly killed me.”
Despite myself, guilt cut into me. I could see the hurt in his eyes. I didn’t know I could cause that. That he even cared enough to hurt due to me. “I was never trying to hurt you, Dad. Never.”
“Hurt me?” He laughed. A sound similar to Dustin’s, but with much more hate. “Randall, you never had the ability to hurt me. No one does. A strong man cannot be hurt, at least how you mean. I’m sorry to shatter your illusions. I didn’t run crying to the bathroom. However, you have hurt the Morgan name. All that I have built. I will admit that hurts. That a person who came from me is so common and full of filth.”
I was almost thankful for his words. They wiped away any guilt that had been building. “Then your logic is truly stupid.”
He flinched this time. I made Vincent Morgan flinch. I’d never seen that happen before. “Excuse me? Did you just call me stupid?”
“Well, what would you call it, Dad? You say that I hurt the Morgan name? That being a prostitute… what? Damages our family reputation? Your bottom line? Probably so. But how much worse is it to turn me into a child pornographer? That doesn’t damage your name nearly as much as mine?”
“I told you there would be no coming back, Randall. That I would cut you out of this family, out of our legacy.”
“By dragging the Morgan name through even more shit? Worse shit?”
“There can be no doubt of how low you sank before I publicly renounced you. There cannot be the chance of the public having any sympathy for you. Sure, the amount of money I’ll have to spend will be more. To your victims. To sexual abuse prevention programs, to whomever is seeking a donation. But the humanitarian efforts we will do will far outweigh any damage you have done. Your brother can build his political campaign around child trafficking or something of the like. A personal vendetta of repayment can look like a mighty powerful motivator. People will understand that. They will trust how hard he will fight for child rights.” His smile returned. “Maybe he should thank you. Honestly, you’ve made his campaign a shoo-in.”
My God, he was crazy. More than I ever realized, not that I ever thought about him as crazy before. Controlling and powerful, yes, but not this. I glanced at Mom. Barely a sign of life there. She kept her gaze fixed above our heads and her hands clasped in her lap. She truly might as well have been made of stone.
Dustin’s voice pulled my attention away from my mom. “Dad, you’re not thinking this is all going to still happen, are you? You sound like it. That you’re still going to have people make up stories about Randall and that I’m going to run for office.”
“Of course it is still going to happen, and not only are you going to run for office, Dustin, you’re going to win.” Dad’s smile deepened, and it was genuine, full of enjoyment and satisfaction. “I wasn’t kidding. You should thank your brother, as this will be the last time you speak to him. He really did guarantee you a win.”
“Dad, I’m not running for office.”
Dad’s face shifted from mockery to authoritarian in an instant. “Yes, Dustin, you are.”
I was amazed at the calmness in Dustin’s voice. “No, I’m not. I never wanted to, which you know.”
Dad studied us. Dustin and me, passing over Kayla before settling back on Dustin once more. “Have you not learned anything from your brother?”
Dustin glanced at me and smiled. It was the first actual smile I remembered ever seeing from him. “Yes, actually. I have.”
