Page 175 of Adrenalina (The Rush World)

My hood is over my un-styled hair that drapes over my forehead.

I probably look like a sketchy person just waiting to rob this house from the neighbor’s perspective. But I don’t care. I’m trying to find something inside me to want to go knock on the door.

I’m about to meet my biological father and my mother’s rapist face to face.

I practically laugh at this whole thing because it’s a joke. I’ve never wanted to see him, ever, and I don’t think I want to now.

Maybe I could just tell her I saw him, but then she would probably talk to him to ask.

My mother knows everything.

With a long sigh, I walk up to the button on the outside of the fucking white steel fence. The speaker makes a gurgling sound.

“Sim, o que posso fazer por você.”A lady’s voice rings in my ears.

“I’m here to see Eduardo Sousa. My name is Xavier Valente, his bastard child.” My voice is angry. I feel bad for this lady. I hope she knows that anger is not directed toward her.

Her voice rings through the speakers as fast as I finish my words. “Come through.” The gate opens automatically.

I push it open a little more and once I’m through it closes behind me automatically.

I practically laugh at the wealth of it all.

His house is almost a beach house since it’s on a cliff. The outside is well maintained, but I know it’s old just by the gardens. It’s not huge, but leaves wrap around different parts of the fence in that old money way.

It’s all white and pillars line the entrance.

The door flies open, and I’m met with an older woman. She’s well-manicured with light makeup on her face. A silk button-up blouse and beige pants contrast her graying hair.

Her fingernails are painted red. That’s when I see that fucking rock on her finger. It could blind anyone. I bet if you line it up with the sun, it could burn a hole through a person’s shirt just by its glare.

“Xavier! We never thought you would come.”

She’s his wife. I know it.

“Well, I wasn’t planning on coming since he left me and my mom out on the street to fend for ourselves. But I guess my change of heart makes you both very happy.” The sarcasm dripping off my features is definitely passive-aggressive.

Again, I don’t care.

She sighs. “I’m Aline, your father’s wife. He is going to be happy to see you.” She waves me toward her, signaling me to follow her.

“He’s not my father. A man named Paulo is. But I guess blood is thicker than actually caring about your children.”

My words roll off her back; she keeps walking. As I’m going through the maze of his house, I look at all the details. Expensive art hangs, sculptures stand, and there’s a piano below the white marble staircase.

What else is there? A fucking drawing room at this point.

“He’s sitting in the drawing room painting.”

Bingo.

“What else does this house have? An equestrian playground or some shit?”

“We don’t have our horses here. They’re in our stables about forty minutes from our house. But our daughter Adriana likes to ride horses in her pastime.”

This woman doesn’t get sarcasm. Got it.

“Let me guess, she’s proficient in French, Mandarin, and Arabic?” I retort.

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