Page 142 of Lush

This shit had to end now.

“You’ve got a whole family out here ready to love you, you know? We’ll always be here for you. Always.”

I stood there, transfixed, the rhythmic hum of the monitors fading into the background as the world narrowed to just her.

“She’s perfect,” I said.

David was gazing at his daughter with all the love in the world. Already a father who would do anything for his child. I know if I was him I would have been burning down this entire building, maybe even the town.

Fucking Harold.

The thought of him—of how he hadn’t even bothered to show his face, not even a phone call while his daughter and his newborn granddaughter fought for their lives right now.

My fists clenched, nails digging into my palms as I stormed out of the room. The hospital doors slid open with a mechanical hiss, and the cold air slapped against my face.

When I reached my car, I yanked the door open so hard it groaned in protest, then slammed it shut with enough force to make the whole vehicle shake.

He’s going to regret this.

The tires screeched as I punched the gas. It took a quick call to his assistant to discover he’d landed nearly an hour ago and had headed home.

I pulled up to my parents’ house, tires screaming against the pavement as the car lurched to a halt. My chest heaved, the anger roiling inside me like a wildfire. I didn’t even bother shutting the door behind me as I stormed toward the entrance, the slam of my boots against the ground echoing in the cold night air.

“Harold!” My voice tore through the silence, jagged and raw, but the mansion remained still, eerily hollow. I passed the grand staircase, fists clenched so tightly my knuckles ached.

“Where the hell are you?” I bellowed, the words ricocheting off the pristine walls. Each door I passed I slammed open with enough force to rattle the frames, but they all revealed the same thing: nothing. No Harold. No answers.

I stormed down the hallway, my voice cracking as I yelled hisname again, frustration bubbling into something darker. And then the blackmailer flared in my head.

They’d done this. They’d hurtmyfamily, and it all started with the goddamn accident.

With Conrad.

I rounded the corner and stopped dead in front of his door.That door.Always locked. Always closed. It stared back at me, mocking me, daring me to step inside.

A growl ripped from my chest, and before I even knew what I was doing, my foot collided with the door. The door splintered, the hinges shrieking before the door crashed open, slamming against the wall with a thunderous crack.

The room was still. Frozen in time. Dust coated the furniture, the faint smell of leather and stale air hitting me like a punch to the gut. Conrad’s room, untouched, preserved like a damn shrine. The perfect façade for the perfect son.

“This is your fault,” I hissed into the emptiness. “You did this. Because you were a fucking bastard.”

My fists shook at my sides, nails digging into my palms.

“You were supposed to be my big brother. You were supposed toprotect us.But instead, you just…left. You left us in all the bullshit!”

I staggered forward, grabbing the edge of the desk, my grip so tight it felt like my fingers would snap.

“Because of you, I lost the woman I loved. Because ofyou, there’s a blackmailer. Because ofyou, Jennie and Laurene are in the hospital.” My voice cracked, and I slammed my fist against the desk, the dull thud reverberating through the empty room.

“You ruined everything, Conrad. And you’re not even here to fucking face it.”

The words tumbled out in a choked whisper, my anger and grief bleeding together. My knees buckled under the weight, and I sank to the floor, my chest heaving as I gasped for air.

I forced myself to stand, trembling, and stared at the desk like it held all the answers I never got. My vision blurred withrage, and with a guttural roar, I swept the papers and books off the surface.

They scattered across the floor, a storm of forgotten memories and meaningless legacies.

It wasn’t enough.

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