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“Well, well, well. Aren’t you throwing around too many orders in a house that doesn’t belong to you?” The disgusting voice comes from above, stilling my movements, and Antonio’s sharp intake of breath almost makes me chuckle.
The old man still gets scared whenever we have conversations.
I glance up the stairs where Wayne holds on to the railing, wearing his usual suit and drinking whiskey straight from the bottle. Why he bothers dressing up is a mystery to me.
He’s been fired from the family business by Uncle Lucian, who still has power of attorney over my shares. Pretty much whatever he says goes.
Our oil empire has a lot of things to offer, though, so he started traveling all over the world, making some profitable deals. However, the resentment stayed strong in him as he deemed himself the sole owner of the Reeds’ wealth.
“This house is a family legacy, and the older son and his offspring inherit it.” I tap on my chin, thinking while his cheek twitches and his fingers curl around the bottle. “That makes it mine.”
“You got so brave lately. Probably forgot how you cried like a little bitch whenever I was around.”
“Oh dear God,” Antonio mutters.
Without turning to him, I order, “Go make my coffee.”
“No, Antonio. I need another one.” Wayne shakes the half-empty bottle. “Get it for me. Remember who signs your paychecks,” he seethes.
We square off for several seconds as we give our butler a choice that will be a defining moment in his life. Considering his decision will show who truly is the owner of this house.
His trembling voice speaks up, “I’ll get your coffee, sir.”
Wayne’s face becomes red, and he opens his mouth to spit more bullshit, but my splayed palm stops whatever he wants to say. “You can shut up, Wayne, and drink in peace. Otherwise, I’ll be quick to remind you that you walk around because of my generosity.”
He huffs, taking a greedy pull from his drink. “Your generosity? No, your weakness. You can kick me out, but I’ll take Estella with me.”
Fury washes over me, but I rein it in, giving nothing away because he’s fucking right. The only reason I tolerate their existence in my life is for my sister.
Moving out is out of the question as legally, they have more rights than I do. However, I’ve started working on it. Just a bit more time and influence and I’ll get what I want.
Freedom from these rotten humans once and for all.
Six years passed in a blur, although I had to almost die to get here alive.
Uncle Jacob arrived fifteen minutes after Florian called him. I can still remember his horrified expression as my friends explained to him what happened. He called an ambulance and completely ignored my mother who kept on yelling that his son killed her husband.
I lost consciousness before the paramedics came, but still found the strength to beg Uncle Jacob not to report it. I kept on repeating Estella’s name, and he knew better than me what would happen to her with Pamela caring more about her husband than her son.
I spent a month in the hospital as the doctors worked on all my injuries while Estella stayed with the Price family. They even invited the best surgeon in the world to fix my scar, but the tissue was too damaged to do anything about it.
Broken ribs, bones, fractured knee, and lots of other things. Most of the doctors and nurses were shocked and probably knew what was going on.
Wayne was on another floor in the same hospital, and often, they forgot to give him any painkillers or inserted needles wrong so they had to do it over again.
He had a broken nose and minor injuries. While Florian’s hits did some damage, he didn’t have the strength to deliver stronger wounds.
During this time, Florian stayed by my side, practically living with me in the hospital, leaving only to feed Aunt Rebecca. After Santiago got kidnapped, his parents stayed in permanent sorrow that we thought their marriage wouldn’t survive as they existed on hope alone despite everyone giving up a long time ago.
Uncle Lucian spent most of his time searching for their son all over the world, using all his underground connections, and we lost pieces of him every time he came back. And Aunt Rebecca stayed alone, forgetting to eat, so Florian made it his mission to check on her every single day and have lunch with her. She hated upsetting her godson. It got better when she gave birth to Jimena, although it only added more responsibility for my best friend, who watched over her as if she was his own sibling.
“I can always report you to the police, Wayne.” He bristles at the threat, and I grin. “I’m sure the press would love everything I have to say about growing up with you.” I sigh as his face turns redder, the bottle in his hand cracking. “The police might not do anything since it’s been years and will be hard to prove, but public opinion is everything these days. Just like that.” I snap my fingers. “Your reputation will be tarnished.”
A thing he values above anything else. Uncle Jacob used it against him when he wanted to report the boys and warned him that if he ever spoke shit about them, there would be consequences. Not sure what kind of excuse they’d given to the police, but everything was swiped under the rug shortly after.
I was terrified to go back, not knowing how Wayne would make me pay for all this. Uncle Jacob must have had a more detailed talk with him because he’s never touched me since.
Verbal jabs during the day and orders for the staff to ignore me? Yes.
