Page 87 of Broken Crown

Won’t bring back Callie.

But at least I can leave this life with a clear conscience.

Or as clear of a conscience as a man who’s done horrible things can have.

If I can leave this world with even a shred of dignity, maybe I can find the peace I never did before.

I bypass most of the bottles, going straight for the painkillers.I don’t bother counting them out, just dump several into my hand.Returning to the bedroom, I grab my favorite bottle of scotch off the wet bar and toss back the pills, washing them down with a few large swallows.Mixing opioids and alcohol is frowned upon.But I have stage four pancreatic cancer.I’m already dying.May as well enjoy the ride on the way out.

Facing your own mortality is a strange thing.Eye-opening, humbling, but strange all the same.You have no choice but to reflect on your life.Ask yourself if you’ve lived a good life.If you have any regrets.

At least, that’s what I did when I received my diagnosis and my doctor said I had six months at most, the cancer having already spread to other parts of my body, making it incurable.

I was angry at first.Told the doctor I had more money than many small nations put together and can afford whatever treatment was available.

That’s when I learned money isn’t everything.

Because no amount of wealth can save my life.

But I can do everything in my power to save other people’s lives.To make peace with my regrets.

To save my soul.

Which is why I knew I had to tell Esme the truth.

Now that I’ve told her everything and gave her the recording to back it all up, the weight that had been crushing me for too long has evaporated, my conscience finally at peace.

I’m still not a good person.I’ve never purported to be.

But I can die knowing I’ve done at least one good thing.That after years of hurting people, I’ve done something to help instead.

I take another long sip from the scotch, savoring the smokey flavor on my tongue, relishing every drop as if it’s my last.If there’s a heaven and the powers that be decide I’ve been repentant enough to deserve a spot, I pray they offer a decent selection of single malts.

Just as I’m about to take one last swallow, a clicking echoes behind me, cutting through my moment of peace.But I don’t need to turn around in order to know there’s a gun currently aimed at me.I should have anticipated this.After all, I’ve noticed Kane following me these past few days.

But I never could have anticipated the voice that booms moments later, demanding, “Why did you do it?”

I’d expected Kingsley to be the one to end my life.To stop me from doing what I’ve already done.

I never expected for it to be my father.

I slowly turn around, barely even registering the gun pointed directly at me.It doesn’t scare me.Nothing does anymore.

“It was time for the truth to come out.”My voice is even.Calm.Serene.

Which angers my father even more, his grip on the gun tightening, knuckles becoming white.

“Bullshite!”he roars, spittle forming on the corner of his mouth, the vein in his neck standing out like an exposed root.“The truth was never supposed to come out.We all agreed to protect the truth by whatever means necessary.And now…” He shakes his head, lip curling in a sneer.“I never thought my own son would betray us.”

“Just trying to make peace with the part I played.”I hold up my hands, gazing into his eyes with unwavering determination.But he can barely look at me.I’m not sure if it’s my betrayal that has him unable to meet my gaze.

Or because he doesn’t want to look into my eyes as he kills his only son.

I doubt that matters to him, though.

He was never much of a father.Which is probably why I went along with all of this for so long.I thought if I did everything asked of me, he’d finally be proud of me.I’d finally have his approval.

It took learning I was dying to realize I no longer cared about any of that.That the only person I need to be proud of is myself.

---