Page 49 of Inheritance
I let out a breath. “You’re a wise old man.”
He chuckled. “Maybe, Maybe not. I’ve been reliving the past more and more. Always seeing a better path I could have taken, things I should have said. Things I shouldn’t have done. I don’t know why, maybe it’s because I don’t have much time left—but doubt has been plaguing me at every turn.”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. I had never seen him so vulnerable, so weak.
“Regardless of your feelings or regrets, we’re here now, and you have to do whatever it takes to maintain power and influence. Your frail thinking is what pushed you to marry us off to other families—because you were scared of what would happen after you were gone. It was an irrational fear, and look where it got us. You don’t have the fight in you anymore. I understand. I’m not upset; it’s just a fact. But it’s time you passed the torch.”
His gaze locked onto mine. Something raw passed between us. He wasn’t ready to let go, but he was ready to accept my plan.
“I’ll let you fight this battle, Gabriel,” he said finally. “But understand this—if you lose, if you die too?—”
“I’m not going to die,” I said, cutting him off.
Neither of us spoke after that for nearly an hour. We just sat together, smoking, drinking. Before long, we were both drunk.
“Gabriel,” my father began softly, nostalgia creeping in, “you remember the garage? You were ten, trying to fix that damned car. Stripped every screw on the carburetor, swearing you were fixing it.”
I showed him a smile.
“You were a stubborn shit. Still are. I didn’t stop you because… truth be told, I admired it. Fearless even then. No idea what you were doing.” He chuckled. “And that old car? Nevergoing to run. Fixing it was just an excuse to spend time with you.”
I gave him a questioning look as I lit a cigarette.
He tilted his head back. “There’s a lot I didn’t tell you. Things I should have. Like how proud I was, watching you navigate the world. ‘That’s my son,’ I would say to myself. I didn’t know how to say it out loud. Thought maybe you just knew.”
His words pulled at something I didn’t know was in me.
“You three boys were always getting into shit,” he added. “But I was never mad at you. Not really.”
Silence again. He looked down at his drink. I looked away from his eyes—into memory. Logan.
“I miss him too,” my father said quietly, reading me like a fucking book. “Every minute. Every day.”
He shifted, cleared his throat.
“I never should have blamed you,” He said.
His gaze softened, and something deeper passed between us—a bond of blood, loss, and silent understanding. Words weren’t needed. The truth lived quietly between us, as it always had, even when I couldn’t see it. But now, finally, I felt clearly what had always existed behind his glare, under his disapproving mask.
The love of a father for his son.
He put a hand on my shoulder. His eyes were wet.
“You get those girls and come back, alright?”
I stood, clapped his shoulder, showed him a crooked smile.
“I’ll come back. Just make sure you’ve got a cigar waiting for me.”
I walked back inside. Made it halfway to my room before I realized the cigarette was still in my hand. I crushed the ember, feeling nothing as it burned between my fingers.
Sophia
How could it have all gone so wrong?
I wished I could rewind my life—back to high school, back to the college loans I was too scared to take. Maybe then I wouldn’t be here, with a chain around my ankle, listening to the sickening wet rhythm of Caroline enjoying her captivity.
Footsteps approached—softer than before.
