Tied to His Betrayal

by Stacey Kennedy

  “Yes,” I say. “Of course.”

  “That’s enough for me, then,” is all he says.

  I can’t fight the tears welling in my eyes when he strides into the living room and turns on the television. Everything inside me warms a bit when Allie smiles at me, clearly feeling all the love in the room. Sometimes it’s so easy to forget how important my people are and why I need them so very much.

  “Okay, so we all understand each other. That’s good. And thank you for finally being honest, sweetie.” Mom follows Dad’s lead, moves to me, and gives me a quick kiss on the cheek before she approaches the sink full of dishes.

  “That went better than I thought it would,” Allie whispers to me.

  “No kidding,” I agree.

  “Oh, and I almost forgot,” Mom says, shifting my attention to her as she turns away from the sink and moves to her purse on the kitchen counter. “Did you see the article about you today?”

  My heart stops beating in my chest and my blood runs cold as she reaches into her bag and pulls out a magazine. Which doesn’t surprise me. Mom would be proud of me being in a magazine, regardless of what was written. She definitely is the type who reads those magazines and loves them. “Oh, God, what are they saying now?”

  She hands me the magazine. “Don’t worry, it’s nothing bad.”

  “I find that hard to believe,” I admit.

  Then I look at the cover, and I’m completely speechless.

  Taylor Erickson puts her money where her heart is! Our sources tell us she made a secret quarter-of-a-million-dollar donation to a Bay Area women’s shelter.

  “Holy shit.” I gasp.

  “Language,” Mom shoots back at me.

  “What is it?” Allie says, tossing the last piece of her garlic bread into her mouth.

  I have no idea what to say so I hand her the magazine.

  Allie reads the words, her eyes growing wide.

  “I take it that Darius did that for you?” my mother asks, wiping her hands on her tea towel.

  “He must have,” I say, astonished.

  “Darius has always been such a gentleman,” Mom continues, beginning to wash the dishes. “He’s so very good to you, Taylor.”

  I’m staring at Allie. She’s staring at me. The hairs on the back of my neck rise up, my instincts coming alive. There’s something that I need to see. Something that’s hiding between the lines. And I know that, because I can see that same thought written all over Allie’s face.

  I gesture toward the hallway and she nods, following me as I rise. “Leave the dishes, Mom. Allie and I can wash them up in a few.”

  “Okay,” Mom says. Which is pointless. They’ll be done by the time we get back, because that’s Mom.

  Allie leads us into my old bedroom with the same *NSYNC poster from the late nineties on the wall and twin-sized bed against the wall. The moment I shut the door, I turn around to Allie. “Why would he do this?”

  She shakes her head, equally shocked. “I don’t know. I mean, I guess he’s really invested in getting the tabloids off you, but didn’t he already do that?”

  I nod. “It’s like he’s making sure they couldn’t go after me again, because if they did, it would make the tabloid look bad.” I pause, standing in the middle of the room, thinking this through. “But, at the same time, it’s really totally unnecessary.” And the more I’m thinking about it, the more I’m seeing that he’s doing this to make me look good in the public eye.

  “It is unnecessary,” Allie agrees. “Besides, Darius is not the type of guy who donates his money. Or at least I’ve never known him to do stuff like that.” She shakes her head, clearly baffled, flopping down onto the bed. “And on top of that, he wanted to keep you out of the tabloids, not put you in them.”

  That’s what’s throwing me off, too. It’s so unlike Darius to do something like this. I mean, he’s doing business with his father. A man who ruined his life. He doesn’t make any emotional decisions. It’s all as if it makes logical sense to him, and of course, making more money makes logical sense.

  It’s one thing to keep me safe. But this isn’t about keeping me safe. This is about changing the perception that the public has of me. This is the most unselfish thing Darius has ever done that it makes me pause. Every moment I’ve spent with him and every single thing he’s ever done rushes through my mind like a movie replaying before me.

  “What are you thinking?” Allie asks, with obvious impatience.

  “I don’t know. It’s just…give me a sec….” I leave the room and grab the laptop from the living room before returning to Allie. I jump onto the bed next to her and then Google Darius’s name for related news articles.

  My heart is thumping in my chest, warmth spiraling through my veins. Line after line, it’s all business-related stuff, as well as odd purchases of properties that baffled the media. As I scroll through the results of my search, I begin to see large donations, but they’re not to charities.

  The more I read, the more my tears make it harder to read the written words on the screen.

  “Taylor,” Allie gasps, grabbing my arm. “What is it?”

  I draw in a shaky breath. “It says: ‘Today, Darius Bennett of Bennett, Inc. purchased two hundred acres of prime land near the Twin Peaks, stopping San Francisco’s construction conglomerate from building a luxury condominium on the untouched land.’ ”

  Allie’s nose scrunches. “Er…what am I missing and why are you crying?”

  “That’s our spot,” I whisper, barely managing to get out the words. “It used to be my favorite place to go to look at the stars and the city when we were together, and it’s a place he even took me to the other night.”

  Allie’s mouth drops open, obviously understanding where I’m going with this.

  I continue to read, my instincts screaming at me that I can’t stop now. I’m scrolling down, seeing more and more things that change everything. “Oh, my God…” I lift my head, shaking from the inside out. “It’s all here. All the purchases of the properties he’s made over the last five years. It’s my favorite restaurant, my favorite ice cream shop, my favorite bookstore. It’s like he bought everything to freeze time.”

  Allie’s eyes fill with tears, hands press against her mouth, and she says beneath them, “Like, he wanted to keep San Francisco the same so if you ever came back, it would all still be here.”

  I’m staring at Allie, and she’s searching my eyes too, trying to understand. “What have I done?” I whisper, my body going ice-cold. “Why didn’t I see this…?”

  Allie’s eyes go sad. “How could you have? He never says anything.”

  My mind is spinning as I try to understand this guy who is so complicated. A veil is lifted and I see everything so clearly now. He is passion, something so real it’s terrifying, and pure intensity, but now I see…he’s more.

  “What are you going to do?” Allie whispers.

  I shut my eyes, feeling my heart swell and crash at the same time. I never looked hard enough at him, never saw through the cracks of his shields, and when I look now, all I see is that Darius has fought hard to make me happy, and I have never, not once, done the same to the degree that he has. And all I wonder now is what would he become if I had.

  “Taylor, what are you going to do?” Allie repeats, voice hard now.

  I open my eyes, tears spent, determination rising. “I’m going to do what I should have done a long time ago. I’m going to make Darius very, very angry.”

  “Ooh, I like this idea.” Allie begins to grin. “What trouble are we going to get into now?”

  Chapter 19

  Darius

  There are no lights on in the hallway and the darkness swells around me, big shadows everywhere, as I travel down the stairs, my blankie dragging behind me. Screams are pouring out of the living room, slowly becoming intelligible words. It’s Mommy and Daddy.

  “You can’t do this, Frank,” Mommy yells. “Don’t do this to Darius. He needs his mother.”
>
  “You did this to him, not me,” Daddy roars. “You’re a fucking worthless whore!”

  I jump at the ringing of the doorbell, and stay as silent as I can as Daddy rushes to the door and swings it open. Two men in blue uniforms enter the house. Mommy charges out of the living room. She sees me, and I think she’s crying but trying not to.

  She’s running to me and then grabs me, squeezing me so tight. Her warm eyes are so scared. “Never forget how much I love you. No matter what you hear. I love you, Darius. I’ll never not love you.”

  I scream when she’s ripped out of my arms by the two big men, and I reach for her. “Mommy…”

  “No, Darius.” Daddy grabs me, holding my arm so tight it hurts. His hand is cold, his arms not the ones I want to be in.

  I struggle to break free. “Mommy,” I scream again as the door slams shut. “Mommy.”

  Daddy kneels on the floor, turns me to him. He doesn’t have warm eyes like Mommy. “Your mother doesn’t want you, Darius. She’s gone. Forever.”

  He’s so scary, so big. I don’t believe him. But then why did Mommy leave me? “I want Mommy,” I scream.

  Daddy shakes me, rattling my teeth. “Did you not hear me, boy? She doesn’t want you. She left us. She’s never coming back.” Daddy becomes blurry and sounds angrier. “We don’t need her. Stop crying right now. Babies cry.”

  Then he’s gone, and I’m alone, the shadows in the hallway coming closer.

  I shut my eyes, hearing the sounds of my screams in my ears as I travel up the elevator. I don’t struggle in life, but when the doors open at my floor, I realize I am struggling. I exit the elevator at Bennett, Inc., feeling as if I’m drifting, stuck in a memory that came out of nowhere.

  One moment I was at home, standing in my bedroom, talking to Ryder on the telephone. The next moment, I was on the floor, gasping for breath, trying to decide if what I remembered actually happened. But if it did, how could my father do that to a child?

  Everything I knew I questioned.

  When Charlotte sees me approaching this morning, she rises from her desk, mug in hand. “The team from Hoyes Financial and your father are in the meeting room.” She suddenly stops at whatever she sees on my face, watching me carefully. “Sir, are you okay?”

  “Yes, I’m fine,” I say, accepting my coffee. “Thank you, Charlotte. Please hold all calls.” But I’m not fine. I’m anything but fine today. The fabric of my world is tearing. I’m no longer choosing to ignore what’s in front of me. I simply can’t, and there are answers I need.

  “Of course, sir.” Charlotte accepts the order, sitting back down and answering the ringing phone. “Bennett, Inc., how may I help you?”

  I’m stuck there a moment, reminded of what my company stands for. I built this business from nothing, with no help from my father. I’m proud of what it stands for, of what I made it become, considering the tough road I took to achieve it. But as I stand there in the empty hallway, I also remind myself of what I had to give up to gain it.

  I take two big sips from my mug, leaving it on Charlotte’s desk to grab later, and I draw in a deep breath, readying myself. I stride forward toward the last door on the left, pulling on the cuffs of my dress shirt beneath my blazer. The more I think about it, and the closer I get to that door, the more I know that I’ve experienced a repressed memory. It sickens me to know what my mother went through. But I’m not that little boy in that hallway anymore. And as I enter the office, I realize it’s about damn time my father knows it.

  When all gazes swing in my direction, I move to the head of the large reclaimed-wood conference table, grabbing the back of the leather chair there. “Good morning. Before we begin, I need to speak with my father for a moment.”

  Frank’s eyebrows pinch together in clear annoyance that I’m not sitting down and letting this meeting get started. “We’ll be only a moment,” he says to the Hoyes team.

  I spin on my heel and lead us into my office. As I stride by Charlotte, I grab my coffee and say to her, “No interruptions, please.”

  “Understood, sir,” she says, watching my father warily.

  Now I know why, too. I had always thought it was my father’s presence that made people seem uneasy. Not anymore. People don’t trust him in the way they trust me. And for the first time ever it’s because I know they shouldn’t.

  I enter my office and wait for my father to enter before I shut the door, then I move to the front of my desk, taking another quick sip of my coffee before placing it down next to my Mac monitor.

  “What’s the problem, Darius?” my father asks, stepping in behind the wingback chair.

  I considered all the ways to find out the truth from him on the way over to Bennett, Inc. But I decide now to keep it on point. “Did you make up allegations of abuse against my mother to gain custody of me?”

  My father pauses. Then an icy wisp of air stands between us. “We have more important things to discuss, Darius.” He goes to turn around. “Let’s go—”

  “Don’t fucking move,” I growl.

  My father slowly glances over his shoulder, eyes narrowed. “Excuse me?”

  “Answer the question,” I say through gritted teeth, shaking on the inside, even though I refuse to let him see it. “Did you make up allegations against my mother?”

  A pause. Then, “I did what I had to.”

  I inhale deeply, resting against the edge of my desk, gripping the wood to stop myself from lunging forward and ripping out his throat. “Which was to tear a young boy away from his mother?”

  “No,” he retorts coldly, planting his feet wide. “It was to not tarnish your good name, your lineage, your status. She would’ve ruined you and all that I had built for you.”

  Just like I thought Allie would ruin you, too, is what he doesn’t have to say.

  My stomach roils, and I know that everything my father ever told me was a lie. I’d been so caught up in my pain, so shadowed by his lies, I hadn’t once listened to Allie when she told me the truth about our mother.

  Why hadn’t I listened to her?

  Obviously he doesn’t know how close I am to lurching forward, because he adds, “What I did gave you all of this.” He waves his hand around my office.

  I snort. “I gave myself this. There’s nothing you touched here.” Right then, staring at the man who ruined so many lives, I realize Allie couldn’t get close to me. Taylor didn’t have a chance in hell either. I kept waiting for the ball to drop, for my world to come crashing down, because when I was four years old, my world did exactly that.

  My blood begins pumping rapidly through my veins, heart hammering. But I’m not done. My questions will be answered today. “Did you ruin her because you were embarrassed she divorced you?”

  “She ruined herself,” is all my father says.

  I drop my head, shutting my eyes, absorbing that, as it’s all the confirmation I need. For years, I’d hungered and hunted down success. I’d fought to be better than the man standing in front of me. When all along, I’d always been better. And the thing I wanted most and spent years fighting for, the money that made me powerful, destroyed the lives of every single woman in my life.

  My father punished my mother, then I’d been punishing every woman in my life for his sin.

  Not anymore, whispers inside me.

  “What happened with your mother was a long time ago,” my father says coolly. “Forget about it. We have business to discuss.” Again, he goes to leave my office.

  I growl, “Get the fuck out of here.”

  “Darius.”

  I lift my head, seeing my father standing there, face ashen, eyes dead. “Go. Now.” I walk past him and open the door, noticing Charlotte rise from her seat, clearly hearing my loud voice. I turn back to my father. “Get out of here and never come back here or I’ll have you arrested for trespassing.” I move to my desk and stare out at the gloomy dark cloudy sky, dismissing my father like he probably dismissed my mother many times.

  “You’l
l regret this,” is my father’s final remark before he leaves my office.

  But I won’t regret anything, especially not this.

  I have many more regrets that don’t involve my father. I press my hands against the cool window in front of me, dragging in a rough breath. I don’t even know what to do next, how to think straight. I have no idea how to right all the wrongs. I don’t even know where to start.

  “Sir…” Charlotte’s gentle voice speaks through the intercom. “I know you said not to interrupt you, but an urgent phone call has come in.”

  I turn around, staring at her sitting at her desk, emotion in her eyes. “Who is it, Charlotte?” I call out to her.

  “Your sister, Allison. Line one.”

  I reach over and pick up the phone, pressing it to my ear, not in any mood for Allie’s lecture, when a soft voice easing all the tension inside of me spills over me, until that voice says, “Yes, I’m Taylor Erickson, and I’m ready to tell my and Darius Bennett’s story.”

  Taylor

  “Are you sure you want to do this?”

  “Yes,” I say to Penelope, the reporter at Gotcha! magazine. She’s sitting across from me in the small cubicle, and this woman knows far more about my life than I know about hers. She’s the woman who’s written every article about Allie and Micah and about Darius and me.

  She’s a pretty, stylish woman wearing a cute summer dress, around my age with a round face and thick strawberry-blond curls. And the surprise in her big hazel eyes tells me she is completely dumbfounded that I’m here.

  Truth be told, I’m a little shocked, too. Even more surprised that I don’t hate her. I should hate her, but it’s impossible for me to hate someone I’ve never even met before.

  I glance sideways to the end of the cubicle, spotting Allie holding her phone up in my direction.

  I’m about to ask her what she’s doing when Penelope asks, “Do you mind if I record our talk?”

  “Not at all,” I reply, frowning at Allie before glancing at Penelope.

  She clicks the side of the recorder and places it closer to me on her desk. “I’m sorry if I seem so surprised, but can you tell me why you want to do this? I mean…” She smiles, and it’s surprisingly warm and trusting. “It’s not every day that the people I write articles about come in to willingly give me information.”