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I’m like the moth to the flame who keeps getting burned and going right back moments later. I want to chastise myself because I should know better. Jericho Grayson is my ex. He’s also a known asshole and playboy.
I truly should have known better, but before he rejected me, we felt like the way we did in the past. Like the older versions of ourselves who still wanted each other.
But I was wrong. So very wrong.
“Dad, don’t you want your dessert?” I offer, looking at the bowl of lemon meringue pie sitting on the table next to his wheelchair.
He likes to sit in the armchair when he’s in here and keeps the wheelchair to the side. I’m sitting on the two-seater opposite him, again, where he likes me to be, because it reminds him of how we used to sit together as a family when Mom was alive.
“The sight of those people turns my stomach every time.” He’s still looking at the TV, but his hatred is directed at Tobias. “What a pity it’s the son and not his asshole father. There must be so much dirt on the man. Why the hell can’t someone, somewhere find something to destroy his ass?”
I have no doubt that if Dad could be that special someone, he would spill that dirt quicker than a heart can beat. I’m even more sure that if such dirt existed on Tobias Grayson, he’d have every grain under lock and key. Men like him always have their darkest secrets guarded by the devil himself.
Bastian isn’t so careful. It’s always been clear that he believes he can do anything because he’s a Grayson. He thinks his name or his father are get-out-of-jail-free cards. That’s how he was in high school, and he’s no different now.
“Dad, this isn’t good for your blood pressure. Why don’t we watch something more entertaining?”
He gives me an incredulous glare. “My girl, this for me is classic entertainment. I simply wish the situation were worse.”
I stare back at him wishing he would just let go of this thing between him and Tobias. The worst thing about it is that the animosity between them—or rather in Dad’s head—is the main cause of our downfall.
All my life, I’ve had to hear about Tobias Grayson, but I’d be willing to bet the man doesn’t even remember my father. Why would he? The two come from different walks of life and would never travel in the same circles.
I’m not discrediting my father or his past achievements, but it’s like trying to compare yourself to someone like Elon Musk or Bill Gates and expecting them to do the same with you. It’s not going to happen. Those men are so rich and powerful, it would take a miracle for people like us to be in the same room with them.
“It never ceases to amaze me how assholes like the Graysons keep getting more and more while men like me suffer and are destined to never climb the fucking ladder,” Dad continues.
This is what he’s like when he gets into his the-world-loves-the-Graysons-and-hates-me mode.
I’m not exactly a huge fan of the family, and I hate the stories Dad told me about the various run-ins he had with Tobias Grayson, but I think there comes a time in life when you have to disconnect mentally and emotionally from people who wronged you in the past. Especially when they haven’t been in your life for over twenty years.
My father, however, is not like that.
Greed and obsession with outdoing Tobias Grayson fuel him.
That cocktail was the deadly poison that made him marry Brielle after Mom died. He never even considered that Brielle was only after his money. Because Tobias’ wife, Sloan, was a former Victoria’s Secret model, it was an automatic tick in the box for Brielle because she was a model, too.
Then, because Tobias lived upstate, Dad had to live there, too. Because all the Grayson kids went to Aster Academy, his daughters—Michelle and I—had to go there, too. Dad went as far as getting his company to endorse us so we could attend.
We lived well outside our means for years, but anything to keep up appearances and keep his wife happy. Dad worked overtime pretty much every day to make sure he could afford to keep Brielle and her daughter happy, and when he couldn’t afford it, he’d take out loans.
I was in the background watching it all unfold. When I couldn’t stand being around either of them, I’d head to Gina’s, and she happily accepted me.
Dad almost, almost got to that rung of the ladder of success that would have lifted him higher, to where he needed to be, but then his designs got stolen, and further destruction struck when he lost the use of his legs.
Although he doesn’t talk about it much, I know it must have messed him up even more to kill a man he’d worked with for over ten years out of self-defense. Then he lost the wife he worked so hard to keep, and she took all his money.
When last I checked, Brielle got married to an oil tycoon mere months after she divorced Dad. And spoiler alert but no shocker—they were dating while Dad was still in the hospital recovering. Now she and Michelle live in Dubai, while we’re here barely living on the breadline.
The news special ends, and an infomercial for car wax comes on. I take the remote control from Dad and switch the channel to a documentary about the rain forest.
“Sorry.” Dad’s chest caves. “I don’t mean to get so worked up or cuss like a sailor around you.”
“It’s okay. I understand your frustration.”
“I’m just glad you didn’t end up with that Grayson boy.”
If only he knew.
