Chapter 4: Responsible Father

Damien’s POV

I let out a shaky breath at the person I saw.

“You?” I asked with resentment in my voice, “how did you get in?”

The man laughed with pleasure and let out a fake-warm smile. “Oh, son. I still have the key to this house because… why? Oh! Because this is my fucking house!”

I chuckled. “Yours? Seriously?” I took a dominating step toward him. “Do you have the papers to prove that?”

“Oh, you’re so naive. Always involving lawyers, and… police… and judges… courts… These are family matters, my son.”

“First of all, I am not your fucking son,” I said, “Second, this is not a family matter.”

“Oh don’t worry, I don’t need your house. I came here bearing gifts!”

I scoffed. Of course, he did.

“And what could that be?” I tilted my head.

“A very fair deal.”

“Yeah, right. Well, thanks, no. You know the gate because you barged in without consent so, see yourself out. Pleasure talking.”

I started to go back upstairs when I heard his chuckle. “Always so naive, Damien. You’ve always been like this.”

“What do you need?” I asked again in a dark voice.

“Let me tell you something. You are still my son — legally, and you still cause me a hell lot of trouble.”

“Then, disown me!” I shouted.

“I wish I could!” He acted really worried, “But oh my dear lord, how I wish I wouldn’t have been a fugitive. How I wish I could go to the police like any other man and tell them what I wanted.”

“Fugitive, huh?” I laughed. “I knew something was wrong. I didn’t know it was this good.”

“Well, back to the topic. I, uh, sort of need you to do something for me.”

“And why do you think I would do that?”

“Let’s see. Do you like the idea of the footage of you killing people being released on the Internet?”

I sighed. Seriously? How did he even—huh.

“Wow.”

“Well, we all have our sources. So let’s not waste both of our precious time.”

“What do you want?”

“I would give you two options as an act of generosity—”

“Cut to the crap.”

“Okay, if you say so. I want a 50% share of your company.”

I looked at him with shock and then burst out laughing. “You lost your senses, old man?”

He chuckled. “You shouldn’t—”

“I can kill you right now,” I said with a threatening tone, “And you wouldn’t be able to say anything. Now that I know you’re a fugitive, I wouldn’t even need to hide your body.”

He sighed. “We both know that’s not smart. My men would never stop hunting you.”

“Well then, let’s be smart. You walk out of here and we both forget this ever happened. Capiche?”

I started to go back yet again when I heard him call me.

“You didn’t hear the second option.”

I turned back. “Am I interested? No.”

“Well, I don’t seem to care.”

“And I don’t care about that either.”

Suddenly, I noticed one of his men coming from out of my house and then handing me over a tablet. A video was playing on it — it was of Evie’s house. She was sleeping quietly but they had an eye on her.

“What’s this?” I asked with a fit of unexpected anger.

“Your weakness, my son.”

I scoffed. “You’re wrong. She doesn’t mean shit to me. Hell, I only met her today.”

He nodded. “Oh, I know all about it. I have been keeping an eye on you and have been waiting for you to catch a feeling — even a little one — and now you did. You wouldn’t want the only single person on this Earth that makes you feel anything, to die now, right?”

I let out a deep breath. Somewhere, I cared about her. A little more than usual.

A lot more than usual.

“What’s the second option?”

He smiled.

“Well, it is the lenient one. You have to marry this woman.”

I looked at him. “Why would you want that?”

“Let’s see. I want that because my contract with the Russian Companies requires my son to be married if he is above 21 years of age.”

“What kind of contract has such terms?” I said with a weird and unbelievable face.

“I wouldn’t call it a legal company, let alone a legal term.”

I sighed. Of course. He was working underground with weird people who have weird contracts with weird terms.

“And why do they want that?” I continued.

“I should seem like a responsible father now, shouldn’t I?” He smiled and I rolled my eyes.

Yeah. right.

“I wouldn’t do that. She—she is not that kind of girl and we don’t have that kind of relationship.”

“You always knew how to ruin it for yourself, didn’t you?” He laughed, quite evilly. “I am giving you the best option. If you wouldn’t do that, I would kill the girl and release your videos online. The murder of Evie Davies will be on you, too… and you would… well, you know what will happen after that.”

I knew he was being a dick but the bad part was that I didn’t know what to do. Things were sensitive because they knew about Evie.

It was true that if I didn’t listen to them, they’d hurt her.

Somehow, that mattered more than anything else in question.

“I will talk to her about it. Give me time.”

He smiled. “That’s my boy.”

“Once again, I am not your son. I’d rather die than accept that.”

He didn’t say anything but the satisfying smile on his face boiled my blood. One girl, one day — and I was already so weak.

I already had something people like him could use against me. That’s why I don’t like love. It is just… it makes a person so weak and dependent. Almost pathetic.

I sighed and went to the bar in my house to drink some whiskey. A fucked up mind and one of those good things is a good combination.

_____________________

Trevor’s POV

“Fine. Fine.”

I hung up the call and sighed. I didn’t know what to do after Amelia… died. She was my direction. I saw a future with her. I knew that I was going to marry her, have kids… spend my life with all the white picket fence and stuff.

But now, that all was gone. I was left with a dark and a blank question mark on my future.

What could I do?

My phone rang yet again and I picked it up seeing it was Shawn.

“What?” I asked.

“Sir, Mr. Wright was spotted near Mr. Damien’s house. From my sources, he left the house about three minutes ago.”

“No way!” I replied and stood up. “Was there a fight?”

“No. No such voices were heard from the scene. Do you want us to confirm it?”

“Yes. Confirm that he’s fine and report back to me. Send another person on Marcus Wright’s trail and keep me updated.”

“On it, sir.”

I kept the phone down and sighed. Marcus Wright — Damien’s father — has resurfaced after ten years. Bad timing for sure, but this ain’t just his fight.