“He’s late,” I grumbled, hating the wait. I didn’t like to talk to the man, much less sit in his office. A place I was never invited into. The walls were covered in bookshelves, and a painting that probably cost a million dollars hung on the wall over his desk. There were no family photos. Just one picture sat on his desk of him and Rhett last year at a charity event that he’d taken Rhett to but not me. Never me.
“You got something better to do?” Rhett smirked. That expression resembled our father so much that it annoyed me. I didn’t want to dislike my brother because he looked like a man I hated.
The door opened behind us, and Rhett glanced back and appeared pleased that the sorry son of a bitch had walked into the room. I was just happy this would start so it could end. Being in here was uncomfortable.
“Hey, Dad,” Rhett said so casually. They had a relationship that I didn’t have a part in. Never wanted to either.
“Hello, son,” he replied. That was also something that had once bothered me. Him referring to Rhett as son and me as Gunner or boy. Things like that had molded me as a child. Changed me.
Taught me not to trust or love. I had the old man to thank for that one.
“I’m glad you could be here on time, Gunner,” he then said in the condescending tone he reserved for me and those he disliked. Fucker.
I glared at him with the most bored and uninterested expression I could muster but didn’t respond to his comment.
“He was happy to come when I showed up to check him out.” Rhett was trying to make this less tense, but it was pointless. Rhett had always tried to help me with our father. He didn’t understand why I was the unloved son and he was the golden child. Even if he did, I didn’t doubt his love for me though. Rhett had always been there for me as a kid.
With me and that man in a room together, tension was inevitable. I often wondered if he had figured out that I knew the truth. Overnight I had gone from the little boy trying to please him to dodging him at every turn.
“Of course he was,” our father responded as if that was a bad thing and only proved my worthlessness. Truth was I’d much rather have stayed at school. Hell, I’d have rather someone poked my eyeballs with needles. That would have been more enjoyable than visiting with Satan.
“I have important matters to attend to this afternoon so let me get to the point,” he began, looking directly at me as if daring me to speak or argue. As if I gave a shit what he had to say.
“Rhett is the Lawton heir. He has requested to receive the rest of his trust fund now in order to travel this summer in Europe with friends. I believe this is a reasonable request. He needs to enjoy the last few years of his youth before the pressure of this empire falls to him. I set up the trust funds for you both so that they would give you both an edge once you graduated college. I don’t want to touch the investment now so I am going to give him part of his inheritance. Originally your mother had demanded it be equal between the two of you. I was young and agreed. However, things have changed, and with Rhett being the heir to what his great-grandfather built it is only fair that other than the trust fund set aside in your name, Gunner, you will not receive part of the Lawton wealth originally decided upon. I have changed the accounts, and that money is now safely divided between Rhett’s investments and the money market account he currently draws from to live on.”
As he spoke, my blood grew hotter, and the vein in my forehead that got pronounced when I was angry pulsed. I could feel it. Another thing that wasn’t a Lawton trait. The emotions churning in me were still raw, but I’d managed to harden over the past few years. I wouldn’t cry or beg for this man’s love. Truth was I didn’t want his damn money. Any of it. I’d leave this town and prove to him I could be more than some damn small southern town millionaire. I wasn’t a Lawton. I was someone else, and I wanted to know who the fuck that was.
Acting as if I didn’t know the truth had been to do what? Save me embarrassment? Protect my mother? She sure as hell hadn’t tried to protect me over the years. Where was she now? At the country club sleeping with the tennis instructor? Unable to sit any longer, I stood and leveled my glare on the man I’d pretended was my father for years.
“I don’t care. Rhett can have all that is yours. Even the trust fund you’re allowing me to keep. This Lawton bullshit isn’t mine. I don’t want your name. I don’t want your legacy. This family is a motherfucking joke. But I do want one thing—I want to know who my father is. I know you know. I know my mother knows. Either y’all tell me whose blood runs in my veins, or I tell this town that worships the family name that I’m a bastard from one of Mother’s affairs.”
There it was. Everything I’d ever wanted to say to him. I hadn’t thought it out, exactly. I was more than positive Rhett didn’t know any of this, and the fact he was okay with our father giving him everything made me question Rhett and where we stood. This wasn’t my older brother who had always thought of me and fought for me. He was acting like our father in some way, and it hurt.
The man who had pretended to be my father my entire life stood up and held my glare with one of his own. “Who told you that? Did your mother?” His voice rose with each word.
I laughed. Not the amused kind of laugh, but the hard, bitter cackle of a man who had so much hate he wanted to taunt his opponent.
“You did. When I was twelve years old. Lowering your voice when yelling at my mother was never your strong suit.”
“You’ll not repeat a word,” he threatened.