Weak.
The man who terrorized me is now reduced to less than nothing. I should glare, but I don’t wish this ending on anyone. I stand in front of him, my face cold and emotionless. He takes a complete minute to shift his eyes on me.
“You came.” He struggles to articulate, his hand wanting to reach mine but falling back on his bed.
“Only to watch you die,” I say harshly when his lips try to curve into a slow lethal smile, but miserably fail.
“Don’t be too happy, you’ll die alone, too.”
“No, André.” I lean toward him, gunning my eyes. “I have someone. Elle knows everything, and she loves me. You failed,Father.”
“The company is yours,” he whispers, the timbre of his voice slurred at low volume.
I smirk, happy to destroy his dear business. His hotel chains were his life. I know he gave them to me because he had simply no one. He thinks I’m stupid enough to save his legacy. “I don’t give a damn about your will. Tell me something, André.” I take the chair near his bed, and bring it next to him to sit. “Why did you do this? Why did you hate your own son so much?”
He stares at me, this bastard probably thinking about dying without giving me an answer. He would enjoy that too much. But I won’t beg for the truth. His face muscles try to tense, but he remains with a mask-like appearance. “Your mother cheated.”
“And? What does it have to do with me?” I raise my voice, unable to hide all the hatred I have for this man.
“You look just like her.” He swallows, his lungs gasping for air.Don’t die yet.“Love is a weakness.” A pause. “I wanted to break you.”
“Why?” I yell. “Why did you hurt me? For your own pleasure? Or because you hated my mother?”
“I wanted your loyalty.” He almost manages a sick, twisted smile. “My possession.” He struggles to breathe, and I know his dying hour is approaching. “The day of Henry’s death…” He pauses.
I tighten my fists. That same day, he hit me on the track and pressured me to give up racing. That day, my whole career almost burst into flames. “What happened? Speak, now!” I scream.
“The truth.” What truth? Can’t this man even manage to speak one sentence? I’m tired of his mind games.
“What truth?”
“She cheated with your fucking coach.” Thomas? My mother cheated with Thomas? How could that even be possible? “Twenty-seven years ago,” he adds, emotionless.
“Thomas? That’s not possible, I wasn’t even born.” Even in his dying hour, he finds the time to lie.
“You were born ten months after.” A pause. “He’s your biological father.”
My blood runs cold, my heart hammering. He’s trying to mess with my mind. “I don’t believe you.”
“Both paternity tests are on the counter. Do one yourself if you don’t believe me.” He struggles to speak as I stare in the void. “You were my revenge. My blood type is AB. Yours is O. Check yourself.”
I don’t want to believe this. I shake my head, my eyes darkening as I walk like a tiger in a cage across the room. I finally grab both paternity tests, and the truth makes my world collide. Maybe he could have trafficked them? But why would André go to all this trouble for a lie? A lie that wouldn’tserve him. All my life he wanted to own me, the unique thing linking us was blood. The only purpose of hitting me with this news would be his hope for redemption, or his sadistic way to watch me fall apart.
“She hid it from me for years. That whore didn’t want to tell me who it was when I banished her. I found a letter almost three years ago. She left it on purpose. To punish me. There were only two words written: screw you, with a picture of that bastard. That day, I got a second paternity test.”
The first paternity test is dated from the day he pushed my mother to leave, eighteen years ago, when I was only eight. Zero percent. André isn’t my father. The second report is dated from the day before Henry’s accident, almost three years ago, the date he found the letter. Thomas shows compatibility of ninety-nine percent.
Fuck.
I throw the papers on the ground violently, trying to contain my anger. My freaking life is a lie. I know by losing my control, I’m giving André what he was wishing to see. Me, tearing myself apart. Me, discovering the reason why he could never treat me like a son. Because he has never been my father. For him, I was the bastard of the infidelity of the woman he used to love. A woman he hated with all his soul, due to her betrayal. He wanted to use me to ease his pain. I was meant to serve his revenge. By owning me, he was owning her. Giving me away would have drawn media attention on himself as he’s a figure of power. He didn’t have another choice other than keeping me for his image. I was innocent. And most importantly, André’s blood isn’t running in my veins. I won’t become like him. I’m not a monster.
But, Thomas? Life is twisted. Something isn’t adding up. If André knew all these years why would he hide it? He’s a believer in pain and punishment, he’d have never kept his calm this long. No. It doesn’t make sense. “Why didn’t you hurt Thomas, then? If you knew all along, why did you let me race?”
“He was meant to die,” he says coldly. “The truck was supposed to hit Thomas.”
The truck.
The traffic light.
