Page 53 of Stepson

“How does she feel about this?”

“I have no idea.” And I truly don’t. Marcus told me she agreed to stay with him and never see or speak to me again. I can’t wrap my mind around why she would do that. I thought I meant something to her. Why would she stay with him?!

“We both know how controlling your father can be. I’m sure she’s just as tormented over this as you are. I know because I’ve been in her shoes before.”

Memories of my childhood resurface, and I want nothing to do with them right now. There was nothing but yelling and screaming and things destroyed on a daily basis. Most days I ran and hid in my closet or ran through the garden where he couldn’t find me.

“How did you get away, Mom?”

She sighs. “It wasn’t easy, but I did what I had to for your safety.”

I remember Mom coming to wake me in the middle of the night when I was thirteen years old. She had a few bags on her shoulders and told me we were going for a little drive and not to wake Dad. We got in her BMW at the time and drove away from the mansion, never looking back. The next time I saw my father was months later after my mom went through weeks of courthearings to fight him. He won partial custody and I was forced to spend every third weekend with him.

“There’s some things you never knew about back then, Gabriel, but I think it’s time you hear them now,” she pauses as I sit here silently, waiting for her to continue. “I caught your father having an affair and when I confronted him about it, he hit me. It wasn’t until he put his hands on you for the first time that I finally took you out of there and ran for our lives.”

I recall the first time Marcus put his hands on me, and close my eyes. They’re memories I buried deep but her words bring them back to the surface with a vengeance. Now that I’m older, I want to put my hands on him the same way he did when I was just a kid. I literally did nothing wrong for him to hate me so much.

“Who was he having an affair with?”

“I never found that out, but I knew that he was. There were messages for him from a woman about their newborn child. She demanded help from him. He called me crazy when I confronted him, but I knew the truth without him having to admit it.” She takes a deep breath.

“And you still stayed until he hit me?”

“You don’t know Marcus like I do, Gabriel. He is a professional bully. I had nowhere to go at the time.”

I know exactly how big of a bully he can be. I’m living the nightmare as we speak. I appreciate that she’s coming clean all these years later, but it honestly only makes me angrier. How could she have stayed with him? How can Bentley stay with him?

“Mom, why does Marcus hate me so much?” The question comes out of my mouth before I can stop it, but I need to know why he keeps screwing me over when I’ve done nothing to him.

"He never believed that you were his. Not even after a DNA test proved that you were."

"What?! Why would he think otherwise?" When she doesn't reply, I urge her on. "Mom?"

"When I met your father, I was in love with someone else," she blurts out. "I wanted to be with that man more than anyone, but he just disappeared one day and I've never seen him again. Shortly after that, I met your father. He swept me off my feet and promised me a life of riches and security. At the time, it was the best offer I had. I didn't love your father. I never have, but he was safe. Six months into our marriage, I became pregnant with you and after you were born, I spent all of my time with you and refused to hire a nanny."

"And he was jealous," I finish.

"Mhmm."

Anger roars through me for my father. How could someone be so jealous over a baby? How could someone hate their child so much? But I know the answers. Marcus was a fucking monster and still is to this day. This gets my wheels turning, and I know something similar happened to Bentley, but how do I prove it?

"Your father has more skeletons in his closet than anyone I know,” Mom states.

“I gathered, but how do I find them?”

“That’s the million-dollar question, isn’t it? No one has been able to bring him down, but I know you can. I may not have nearly as much money as your father does, but I won’t let him put you back behind bars.”

“Thanks, Mom.”

I want to keep talking with her but someone knocks on my door. We exchange goodbyes and I promise to call her with any news. Hanging up, I toss my phone onto the couch and go to the front door, half hoping it’s the only face I want to see: Bentley’s.

But that isn’t who stands there.

“Maggie?”

She looks up at me with trepidation in her gaze before she looks over her shoulders.

“May I come in?”

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