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I laugh bitterly. “So, he has something for us, but he can’t share the plans? Sounds fucking cowardly to me. I think he’s just trying to ease your feelings of abandonment.”
“He still cares about us, Parker.”
“Yea, that’s why he fucked all the maids. Totally makes sense. How many bastards do you think are on the way now?”
The snarl that escapes her is unlike her, a threat that I’m saying too much. “Every contract drawn up with those sluts was personally written by me, so you can rest assured that none of them have gotten themselves knocked up.”
“Are you sure about that, Mother?”
“Don’t challenge me, Parker. You know what happens when you try to back me into a corner. Do I look like some helpless girl at a party to you?”
It’s a sharp stab, one that lands easily on my heart and puts me on edge. How quickly I had forgotten that my mother has a talented tongue in the courtroom as well as in her home. She can take just about anything and spin it against me, locking me in a cage with my regrets before I can even see it coming.
“That’s what I thought,” she whispers victoriously while walking past me to the doorway. “You would do well to remember how we’ve been so successful around here.”
“Mother,” I say while following her into the living room. She pours herself a drink and extends an empty glass to me. I wave away the offer and ask, “Do you have the marriage contract with Alex?”
“Yes, why?”
I shrug. “I want to see it.”
“All the details have been hammered out. You know I’m meticulous about that.”
“I don’t doubt that.”
She sighs while drifting into the foyer, the hallway, and then the office where all the contracts are kept in a safe. After punching the buttons and pressing her thumb to the digital lock, it pops open, hissing as though revealing an ancient tomb. She digs through a few folders and then pulls the one she wants, closing the safe before dropping the folder on the desk.
Papers litter the surface of my father’s desk, undoubtedly the result of my mother seeking her fortune without him. While she might have confidence in his actions out loud, I can tell she’s worried about her comfort and security in private. Why else would she be reviewing a copy of his will?
Curiosity gets the better of me as I lift the folder and tap it open. The fine print of my marriage contract with Alex is tight. There are all sorts of clauses and additions, things Felipe made sure to add about infidelity, bastards, and whatever else he also might have done during his marriage that he saw fit to include here.
Once I finish perusing it, I pull a lighter out of my pocket and set the corner on fire, carrying it over to the fireplace, where I wait for it to ignite. My mother shouts behind me when she notices what I’m doing.
“Parker Somerville!” she screeches. “What the fuck are you doing?!”
“What I should have done a long time ago.”
The flames burn in my vision, a physical representation of how I’m dropping everything with Alex so I can rule independently. She betrayed me when she admitted her plans. She betrayed us all. With her at my side, we could have been the greatest rulers of Macedon, a Mob family with the tightest connections and fists like iron.
Yet she had to go and fuck everything up and fuck every one of my friends while she did it. The hurt of her actions stings my solar plexus, but I ignore the feeling as I watch the flames lick the paper. The burnt edges roll back one after another, peeling in rhythmic waves as the fire destroys the legalese, the additions and the subtractions. Everything gets eaten in the fireplace.
And it’s so satisfying to watch that I forget my mother is right behind me.
“I don’t know why I’m worried,” she states. “You’ll be marrying that little bastard Evelyn Welles. She’s an obedient virgin. It’ll be good for you, dear.”
The way she says it sounds so simple. “I never agreed to that.”
“You don’t have to.”
“I don’t think you understand, Mother,” I say firmly. “I’m not marrying anyone.”
She scoffs. “That’s preposterous. How else are you going to run this city?”
“Why do I need to marry at all?” I reason while standing up straight and running my hand along the mantel. “What has having a wife and child done for my father?”
“You better watch your mouth, Parker.”
I chortle, though I’m far from amused. Moving toward the window on the other side of the room grants me visual access to the destroyed vineyard just behind the mansion. Our gardeners and farmers have worked hard to get the backyard back to its previous glory. It’s almost there.
