Page 89 of Power Switch

After reading through the files in the “Favor” folder yesterday, I was ready to storm over here and beat my dad to a pulp. Randi and Tank held me back long enough to calm my rage and form a plan. A plan of action, really.

First, I confront my parents, and then we tackle confronting Birmingham later this evening. One fucker at a time.

“Please tell me you didn't know.” My voice cracks. Turning, I search his confused face. My heart breaks a little more. “Tell me you didn't know about my dad, about what he does outside the house.”

His bushy white brows draw together. “I don't understand.”

A bit of the tension releases from my chest. I knew deep down Gerard didn't know, but still I had to ask to know for sure. Reaching out, I grip his thin shoulder and give a gentle squeeze, not wanting to break the man in two. The scratchy material of his uniform scrapes against my palm as I pull away.

Only the heavy thump of my boots sounds down the long dark hallway. Normally when I’m in this house, a type of darkness encases me. Maybe it’s from all those years of this being an estate, never a home; it made every inch cold and in turn froze me for nearly two decades. But today is different. Today I hold all the cards, and I know who they really are. I no longer want their approval or their love.

The closer I get to the sunroom, the more anger trumps the other emotions. Who cares what happens to me? Fuck their money that they’ve held over my head. I'll land on my feet. But my father… that’s a different story. Today he’ll be exposed and held accountable.

I swear steam sizzles off my palm as I tug the gold metal lever down to release the door latch and push it open. My steps falter at the normalcy I’m about to explode into chaos. Everything looks as it should, as it always has. Sparkling clean, sun pouring through the thick windows. The AC on full blast so the room remains cool unlike the hot summer temperatures outside.

“Trey, darling.” Mother reclines on her favorite chaise, a glass of champagne in her hand. Jessica sits at her feet, a full glass of bubbling liquid between her fingers as well. Mother tilts her head, catching my scrutiny of their drink of choice at ten in the morning. “We're celebrating, of course.”

“Celebrating.”

She nods as that snakelike smile I've loathed my entire life, a little plumper nowadays, spreads across her wrinkle-free face.

“Yes, it's why you called us all here. To finally accept your role in this family, leading the Benson name into political fame, and to set a date for the formal engagement announcement with the lovely Jessica and her family. And hopefully narrow down dates for the wedding too while we’re all here.” Reaching out, she clinks her glass against Jessica's.

I ignore her and glance around the room. “Where's Dad?”

“Behind you, son.”

His voice triggers the building agony and rage to let loose. I don’t think about my actions, only react to my exploding emotions with a bellow as I twist around, putting all my strength behind the sailing knuckles. His eyes widen in pure shock before cringing shut as my fist slams against the side of his face. He stumbles to the side, arm out in a desperate move to catch his balance before his knees buckle under the pain and he falls to the floor. A high-pitched scream pierces the room from behind me, either Mother or Jessica, I don't give a rat’s ass.

“You sick motherfucker,” I spit. His face pales, no doubt seeing I’m on the verge of killing him with my bare hands. Palms smacking the hardwood floor, he scurries back, hands and feet slipping beneath his weight as he retreats like the damn coward he is. “You perverted son of a mother-fucking bitch.”

Someone grips my arm, urging me back, but I fling it off. Pausing over my cowering father, I funnel all my disgust, hate, and pain into my hard stare. My fingers tighten into fists at my side. Everything in me tells me to strike again, but I hold myself back knowing if he’s dead, then he can’t pay for his crimes.

“I know about that fucking place, The Boardroom.” Somehow, his face pales even further, understanding dawning on the reasons for my actions. The bones of my fingers groan under my tight fists. “They were just girls.”

Close by, someone sucks in a harsh breath, confirming what I had already known. Jessica had no idea the fuckery she was desperate to marry into. Hell, I’m already a part of this fucked-up family and I didn't know until yesterday.

“Get out.” Tilting my head, I level an emotionless glare to where Mother now stands, champagne glass discarded on the side table. “You have no right—”

“Oh, that’s where you’re wrong, Mother. I have every right. Not only do I have every right to stand here and beat the shit out of my own father for fucking underage girls, I have the damn proof.” The sheer disgust in my tone echoes off the floor-to-ceiling windows. I suck in deep breath after deep breath. “And you knew.” My voice cracks, giving away the pain I feel. “You knew the whole time what was going on, and you did nothing to stop it. Just kept fucking your own way through senator after senator, leaching off each person for more secrets and power.”

My chest heaves as I turn back to my father where he sits against the wall, one hand cradling his swelling cheek while the other supports him from falling over.

“It's the way this city works, son.” I blanch at his words, which he notices. Thinking he has some footing, thinking his excuse is valid, he straightens and stands, wobbling in place as he does. “You have no idea the deals that are made, the power and secrets that are exchanged there.”

“I do not care. Those girls were held there, and you knew. You knew it was a hub for sex trafficking and did nothing except condone it by going back over and over and over again.”

“I had to do it to stay at the top of this city. It was nothing, just sex. I didn’t know their age.”

“It’s illegal and wrong,” I somehow grit out with my jaw clenched tight.

“It's politics.”

Another wave of disgust rushes through me. Blood pounds in my ears, distracting me to the point that I don't catch the door opening. I'm still transfixed by the perversion in his words when a cold hand rests on my shoulder. I go to shrug it off when it slides to my bare neck, sending a shiver down my spine. Immediately my swirling, out-of-control emotions settle. Confusion sets in briefly until Randi steps into my periphery.

“You didn't think I'd let you face this alone, did you?” The softness in her tone is a complete contradiction to the vileness coating the room. She gives the back of my neck another squeeze before sliding her hand down my arm to take my own and interlace our fingers. Shifting her attention to my father, the warmth in her features drains away. “Now, Mr. Benson, I walked in on the tail end of this conversation, so why don't you catch me up to speed.”

“No.”

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