Page 96 of The Wallflower

"Okay, but leave her out of this. If you want someone to hurt, I’m right here. Hurt me.”

My father pulls his cuffs down and straightens his bow tie. "How poetic, even with the truth sealing your fate, you still want to protect her.” He shakes his head. “Let me help you understand something. What I do or not do with her is none of your fucking business. I don’t answer to you; you answer to me.I thought you were coming to understand that, but it turns out I was wrong. I'll take care of that.”

In the back of my mind, questions linger, and I want to know who is feeding him this information. My mind flashes back to the memory of Sebastian on the phone yelling in French. It's the only other language my father knows outside of English. Was Sebastian spying on me for my father in the name of protection? My body flashes red hot for a moment when I remember how Sebastian hovered around her after the announcement. How he's been pushing against me lately. He’s always thought The Mill should have gone to him to lead. Not me. Is this payback years in the making?

We've been friends since we were kids, and I hate that I'm actually considering the fact that he's betrayed me and to my father, no less. I had assumed all my friends hated him. I shake my head in disbelief.No. No.He wouldn't do this to me. Not after everything we've been through over the years. Lee would never say a word against me, nor would Aries. The only one who’s been different lately is Sebastian.

"Who told you about her?" I force the words out.

"Curiosity killed the cat, Drew. I’d tell you, but it’s not really any of your business. Just assume I know everything and work off that. You should’ve known better. You couldn’t hide this from me, not even if you wanted to, and with the way you were fucking her all over campus, being possessive and shit, that tells me you really didn't want to anyway."

Shit.How can I keep her safe from him if he has eyes on me and her. There are no other options available, no other way to fix this that doesn’t end in heartache. The mere thought makes my stomach churn. I want to vomit all over the fucking floor.Again.

My father props himself on the edge of the counter, sort of leaning. "Listen, Drew. You’re my son. My only son. The only child who will carry on my legacy."

I don't trust the new soft tone or lower volume. It never bodes well for me. It’s more like the calm before the storm.

"Look at this whole marriage thing as a business transaction. It's a contract, a merger, for example. It means nothing, really. It’s more of a pretty party and a legally binding contract that will line our pockets and get us the necessary connections. Nothing in that contract says you have to stay faithful. I’m not asking you to be a doting husband. Marry the brat, sign the contract, and you can go find another piece of trailer trash to warm your bed until you're sick of her. I went through one of those phases, too, you know, but I grew out of it pretty quickly."

I blink, letting the words sink in.How dare he?How the fuck he dare talk about my mother that way. Not the white trash part—she's always been rich—but the fact that he'd never stayed faithful to her. I’m fucked in the head in so many fucking ways, but cheating, that to me is the worst possible thing. It shouldn't really come as a surprise, he's always been a dick to her, and her illness has only intensified that assholeism.Her illness.

"Leave her out of this."

"Your little library girl? Fine, if you do what you're told."

I shake my head. "No. Mom. Leave her out of this shit between us. She shouldn't be punished for my wrongdoings."

He rolls his eyes and clasps his fingers over his knee. "I don't give a shit about your mother. I keep her around as a way to control you. I’m surprised it took you this long to figure out. Word of advice: never show your weaknesses, Son, because they will always be used against you."

Suddenly, the threat of violence, of fucking torture, is no match for the burning inferno of rage inside. I’ve dealt with his shit for so many years. I’ve endured his beatings and beratings. I’ve stayed in line and been his punching bag. I’m done. I launch myself at him, taking him down to the floor. With both hands, Igrab him by the head and slam him against the tile floor, then I tighten my fist and punch him in the face.

I only get one good shot in before a set of burly arms wrap around my middle and pull me off him. I don’t need to look to see who is grabbing me. I already know. My father’s goons. There's two of them with him tonight. Roscoe secures me around the chest, his hold tight so I can't move, while Baxter helps my father to his feet.

Once standing, he swipes at his face with the back of his hand and spits a wad of blood onto the floor before looking at me. It's so fucking satisfying to see his teeth stained red and a trickle of blood trailing down over his lip from his nose. Looks like I broke it, and I don't even give a fuck. I’d kill him if I could.

I’m losing my fucking mind. A bubble of manic laughter escapes me, and Baxter steps forward upon a wave of my father’s hand and punches me hard in the gut, forcing me to double over the best I can while still being held in Roscoe's iron grip. Still the best moment I've had in a while. And if he puts me in the hospital, it will mean I have something to enjoy as I dream. At least I know he won’t kill me. He needs me far more than I need him.

My father grabs a towel and some ice from the freezer and then approaches me slowly, his eyes gleaming as he studies me like an animal in a cage.

"I had high hopes for you, Son, but now I see you need a little more preparation. All those beatings you endured over the years didn’t do shit to toughen you up. Looks like we'll be starting over, and this time, I won’t stop. Not until I fucking break you and piece you back together as I see fit."

I recede into the darkest confines of my mind when Baxter steps forward and throws the first punch.Pathetic. He's not even going to hit me this time; he'll just have his goons do it while he watches. Typical lazy asshole. He gets his hands dirty wellenough, but sometimes, he likes to let someone else do it since they know how close to take me to the edge.

I keep my eyes trained on him as he leans against the counter and wraps his knuckles in the ice, simply watching as Baxter lands hit after hit against me. I feel each one, but the pain is muted this far back in my mind. No one can reach me here, and it's for the better. Something warm splatters down my chin, and I hear my father’s order from far away.

"Stop."

I fall to my knees, then my stomach. A bright red liquid pours out of me onto the sparkling tile below.Is it blood?My entire body feels numb, a coldness creeping up my limbs and into my core.

"Goddammit, look what you made me do, Drew. If you had just behaved, then I wouldn't have had to resort to these methods. There’s blood everywhere…sit up and look at me. This mess is all yours." I roll to my side, but it takes me several minutes to move into a sitting position so I can meet his gaze. I don’t know why I bother or even try.

"Now, tell me what do I expect from you, and please get it right so we don't have to do this song and dance anymore tonight."

I lick my swollen busted lip and croak out the words that make me sick. "Marry the girl and fall in line."

It’s not about marrying the girl of his choosing anymore. It’s about protecting Bel and my mother. It’s about destroying him and watching him burn in the aftermath of his own doing. Reaching out with the same hand that has given me countless injuries, he pats my cheek, and I wince from his touch. "Good. Now stand up. I'll have the guards carry you out the back and get you home. I'm sure one of your friends can find a bandage or two to fix you up."

It’s hilarious how nonchalant he is about my friends' knowledge of the way he abuses me, yet no one will ever say anything or do anything because of who he is, what he does, and who he works with. He thinks he’s invincible, but I will find a way. I will end this motherfucker, even if it costs me everything. I sputter and cough, my chest aching as I spit more blood onto the floor. I shake my head. I can't stand, not yet. The room spins each time I try.

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