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But that was the thing about death—it came for everyone. Young and old, rich and poor, good and evil. It was life’s greatest equalizer.
And it was clear that, despite Alberto Castillo’s billions, he was standing at death’s door.
Conversation vanished when the room’s occupants noticed me. My father was the second youngest of two sisters and one brother. They were all gathered here along with my cousins, the family doctor, the family lawyer, and various attendants.
Eduardo was the only one who stepped toward me, but he halted when I approached my father’s bedside.
The carpet was so thick it muffled even the slightest noise from my footsteps. I might as well have been a ghost, gliding soundlessly to where my father lay with his eyes closed, his frail frame hooked up to a mass of tubes and monitors.
In perfect health, he was a titan both in reputation and appearance. He dominated any room he walked into and was equal parts feared and revered, even by his competitors. But over the past year, he’d withered into a husk of himself. He’d lost so much weight he was almost unrecognizable, and his olive skin resembled ashen wax beneath the sheets.
A rope snaked through my chest, winding tighter and tighter— “He made it through the night.” Dr. Cruz came up beside me, his voice pitched low so only I could hear him. “That’s a positive sign.”
I didn’t take my eyes off the motionless form before me. “But?” Dr. Cruz had been with my family since I was born. Tall and reedy, he resembled a swarthy beanstalk with silver hair and a prominent nose, but he was the best doctor in the country.
However, there were some things even the best doctor couldn’t hide, and I knew him well enough to pick up on the hesitation rolling off him.
“His situation remains critical. Of course, we’ll take care of him the best we can, but…I’m glad you arrived when you did.”
Meaning my father’s passing was inevitable, and soon.
The rope pulled tauter. I wanted to reach inside and tear it out. I wanted to run away from this fucking house and never come back. I wantedpeace, once and for all.
But I didn’t say any of that to Dr. Cruz when I mumbled a generic reply, or to Eduardo when he came up to embrace me, or to my aunts and uncles and cousins, half of whom were here solely for their cut of my father’s fortune.
The only person who didn’t smother me with pity or concern was Sloane. She stood by the door, respectful of the family’s privacy but staying close enough in case anyone needed anything. When my father passed, she would be the one crafting the press statement and media strategy. Knowing her, she’d already started both.
Regular families buried the dead and grieved. Families like mine had to issuepress statements.
Here lies Alberto Castillo, shitty father and guilt tripper extraordinaire. He was emotionally abusive and wished his only son had died, but man, he was a hell of a businessman.
The absurdity of it all punched a hole in my composure, and I couldn’t stop laughter from leaking out in the middle of Tía Lupe’s platitudes. The more I tried, the harder my shoulders shook until my aunt stopped and stared at me in horror.
Some of my cousins had drifted off to take advantage of the mansion’s pool or arcade, but the remaining family observed me like I’d murdered their favorite pet.
“What’s so funny?” Tía Lupe demanded in Spanish. “Your father is on hisdeathbed, and you’re laughing? That is beyond disrespectful!”
“It’s funny you should say that,tía, considering you only come around when you wantmy fatherto pay your bills. How’s the house in Cartagena? Still under the million-peso renovation you sodesperatelyneeded?” Steel flickered beneath my amusement.
“You should talk. You’re a spoiled little brat who wastes my brother’s money without ever—”
“Lupe. Enough.” My uncle placed a hand on her arm and firmly steered her away from me. “Now’s not the time.” He cast an apologetic glance at me, and I summoned a wan smile in response.
Unlike Tía Lupe, Tío Martin was quiet, even-tempered, and cautious. He lived in the same half dozen outfits year-round and didn’t give a crap about the lifestyles of the rich. I had no idea how he’d ended up with someone like my aunt, but I supposed opposites did attract.
“No, Lupe is right,” Tío Esteban, my father’s eldest sibling, said. “What’s so funny, Xavier? You haven’t been home in months. You refused to take over the company, so poor Eduardo here is stuck doing your job. You are constantly pictured in the gossip rags, partying and wasting God knows how much money. I told Alberto to cut you off a long time ago, but no, he refuses.” He shook his head. “I don’t know what he was thinking.”
I did. Money was another form of control for my father, and the threat of cutting me off was more powerful than the act. If he actually cut me off, that would be it. I would be free.
I could’ve cut myself off, but I’ll be honest—I was a hypocrite. I railed against Lupe for using my father as an ATM machine when I did the same. The difference was I admitted it.
The money was a prison, but it was all I had. Without it, Xavier Castillo as the world knew him would cease to exist, and the possibility of losing the only value I had was more terrifying than living the rest of my life in a gilded cage.
“Oh, you know Alberto.” Tía Lupe scoffed. “Always holding on to the romantic notion that my dear nephew will someday stop being a disappointment. Honestly, Xavier, if your mother were alive, she would hate—” The rest of her sentence cut off with a shriek when I grabbed her by the front of her shirt and yanked her toward me.
“Do notevertalk about my mother,” I said, my voice deceptively soft. “You may be family, but sometimes, that’s not enough. Do you understand?”
My aunt’s pupils were the size of dimes, and when she spoke, her words shook. “How dare you. Let go of me this instant, or—”
