Page 4 of Merciless

“You think I did it for you? Nah. I did that for her.”

“I’m sorry, son,” he said, palms outstretched as his eyes hit the floor. “Forgive me?”

“How?” I asked, aghast. “Tell me how? You stole my grief and replaced it with the worst betrayal. You put me in an impossible situation and made me choose. And now, I’ll never get to tell her the truth. How much of a dirty, lowlife scumbag of a husband you are!”

I hadn’t realised my voice had risen so high until a soft hand wrapped around my own, small but impactful.

“Maybe it’s time for a breather? Grab a glass of water?” Charlotte interrupted. Based on her expression, she had heard enough.

As she lightly pulled to lead me away, my father finally raised his cowardly eyes to mine, resolve hardening within. “I know I fucked up, Colt, but I’m going to fix it. I’m going to fix everything. I promise—”

“You can’t promise me the world when you’re the one who blew it the fuck up. We will get through the funeral, then I want nothing to do with you.”

“Son—” He choked.

“I’m no son of yours.”

I walked away, refusing to look back at my father, my role model, the man I once aspired to be.

I was irrevocably broken.

In one night, I had lost both parents… and I didn’t know how I was ever going to recover.

Chapter 3

COLTON

I smoothed my palms down the lapels of my fresh suit as a sea of figures shuffled into the funeral home.

Grief and overstimulation made me numb, the past three days blurring together as one continuous nightmare. I hadn’t shed a tear since Mum’s death—since that life-changing night.

William had given me a wide berth since our altercation, no doubt feeling the serial killer vibes radiating off me every time he drew near. Instead, he busied himself with organising the funeral, while I prepared for my departure to college.

I had deferred my enrolment into college due to my mother’s deteriorating condition. But without her there, I couldn’t think of a better reason to ditch town as fast as possible. I refused to consult or inform my dad. Why should I? He no longer held the privilege to know anything about me. My eyes had been opened, and I couldn’t forgive, nor forget.

There he stood at the entrance doors, welcoming each melancholy visitor with a gracious handshake as if he weren’t the worst type of fraud—a goddamm cheat.

The seats were filling up fast, and the place lulled into a quiet hum as the funeral director stepped up to the podium to begin introductions.

I sat in the front row, pretending to listen… when I realised William wasn’t next to me.

A certain knowing crept over me as my head pivoted 180 degrees. The movement was in slow motion, as if my heart and head were trying to prevent me from further harm.

Yet, I wasn’t built for fake sentimentality. My two feet were fully secured on the ground, where reality was ugly and unfair.

My father was in the foyer, being cradled in the arms of Nikita, two thick glass doors separating them from the rest of us.

The never-ending resentment that simmered in my veins ignited supernova, blasting through my bloodstream, shoving me out of my seat. The fucking nerve of these two.

I must have teleported because in two seconds flat, I was in front of them, the glass doors swinging shut behind me. My fingers dug into her upper arm so tightly they were sure to leave a mark. I don’t give a fuck.

My neck cranked low so both of them could catch my scathing whisper. “I told you not to come.”

Nikita whimpered before wrenching her arm out of my grip. “You told me not to come to the hospital. Not to the funeral.”

“Common sense, bitch. Buy some.”

Dad shifted half in front of her, the protective stance telling. “Son, please—”