Rayden
UNSURE WHAT TO EXPECT, I’d followed my parents from the dinner table. Now, I stared at them, too shocked to comprehend what I’d just heard. “Is it true? You raised another man’s child knowingly?”
My father’s expression paled as I walked further into the room. “Rayden—”
“Quit covering for people, dad.” I cut him off. “You gave into grandfather’s demands, I get that, but stop protecting people that hurt you, took away your right to live and enjoy life. It’s gone on long enough. She cheated on you. With. Your. Brother,” I hissed out the last part. The knowledge hurt. Pain radiated over my chest in slow circles tightening my heart. How could she cheat on a man like my father?
“I’m sorry, Rayden, I never meant for you to find out.”
“Seriously, dad. You’ve been through so much of shit and you’re worried about me as usual.” I shook my head, too stunned to comprehend the tangle this man’s emotions had roiled through over the years. “I don’t understand. If she cheated on you, why did you stay married for so long.”
His gaze cut to hers, one brow arched, his expression hardened steel. “Would you like to tell him, or should I?”
She sucked in a breath, a hand trembling against her chest before she clenched it into a fist and plastered that dignified countenance, she showed the world. “Don’t you fucking dare, Drake,” she spat.
Shaking his head, he turned to me. “Not long after Josh divorced his wife and left home, I found out Kyra wasn’t my child. Your mother threatened to go public with that fact. After Josh’s debacle hit the press, your grandfather was worried her threat would destroy our reputation, everything we’d worked hard for. Now, come to think of it.” He glared at her. “Dad probably knew about your affair with Josh. That’s why he was so adamant I couldn’t divorce. He couldn’t lose both sons because of you,” his words filled with venom, he snorted a laugh. “You’re a fucking piece of work, Angela.” She rolled her eyes. He glanced at me. “We were a couple in name only. I shared the bedroom here, just for the old man after his stroke.”
With each word, my dislike for my mother trundled into bitter contempt. I shifted my gaze to her. “You cheated on him. Had him raise not just any man’s child, but his brother without Kyra knowing, not to mention you fucked up Uncle Josh’s relationship with his wife and Trent. And then you still threatened the family that kept your dying father’s wish sacred. How the fuck can you be my mother?” I yelled, respect out the door. My annoyance was too far gone to care that she was my mother.
Her glower equating poison darts, she foamed at the mouth. “Is this what you wanted?” she shouted at my father. “To take away the last shred of love my son has for me.”
“Your doing, mom, not his?” For the first time in my twenty-five years, my tone resembled the slash of a blade toward her.
Her gaze shifted between him and I, yet there was no remorse in her expression, none of the motherly repentance for fucking up our lives. For a woman who’d been given everything for so long, I expected more from her.
“I hate you,” she snarled.
“Trust me. No love lost there, Angela,” my father grated out. “Just like you to lay the blame at another’s feet when things don’t go according to plan. “My son is right. I allowed you to fuck up my life once, there won’t be a repeat performance.”
“I’ll see about that,” she sneered.
I expected him to lash out. Instead, he uttered a sarcastic laugh. His gaze traveled over her rigid form. “You look like you could use a good hard fuck.” She gasped. “Try it. It might make you less of a bitch.” With that, he walked out.
I laughed at his calm arrogance, then turned to stare at my seething mother. “My father never neglected you, mom. He gave you everything, a queen’s life—”
“Don’t you dare act all prissy with me, son. I might not be living here, but I’m still your mother,” she snapped.
Laughing, I shook my head. “Still my mother? Okay, let’s see mommy dearest. What’s my favorite color? What sport did I play in junior high? What sport did I play in senior high? Better still, what is my favorite food? Favorite music, perhaps?”
Her eyes widened, large saucers of irritation. “I-I—”
“Yeah. I thought so.” I mocked. “My father might’ve worked his ass off, at least he was there for me, every game, every scar, every tear while you ran around on him.”
“Excuse me,” she screeched, the veins on her forehead popping.
“Well, Kyra is evidence enough,” I reminded her.
Her mouth clamped shut. I watched her throat work as she gulped against emotions she was probably trying to hide. “Rayden, I—”
“You know what, mom, save it. I need to check on Sianna. I have no idea what you have against her, but it stops now.” I moved to walk away. Her caustic laugh stopped me midstride. “You’re quick to throw me under the bus of moral ethics, at least I didn’t sleep with my daughter’s boyfriend,” she scoffed, her eyes burning coals of undisguised hate.
“What the fuck?” I glared at her as though she’d gone completely insane.
She pushed off the wall and neared me. “I’m not the only one above the moral compass, Rayden,” she raised a brow. “Your father is not all innocent as you’d like to think.”
“If you’ve got something to say, spill it,” I yelled.
“Why don’t you ask your father what’s his relationship with your sweet girlfriend?”
