You weren’t the only one who was dishonest though. I lied to you too. There is no easy way to say this, so here it is:
I have a son.
His name is Alexander Brooks.
The utter shock at those words knocks me back, and I’m disgusted at myself for not being able to see what was right under my nose. He was fucking Jacqueline behind my back. My loving husband and my so-called friend.
She was the biggest mistake of my life. It only happened once. The details aren’t important, because I’ve regretted that moment since before it happened. Because it was you I wanted. It’s always been you. I laid my hand on her that one time but never again after. Never did I want to because all I wanted was to be covered in you. To be covered in your love that I felt was so real, but I learned today that it wasn’t real. Nothing is real, and I don’t know what to believe.
What I do know is that I cannot trust anything. I have instructed that this letter only be read in a private setting between legal counsel and you, Nina. It is with this letter that I claim my paternity to Alexander Brooks. A DNA test was conducted shortly after his birth and can be found in a safety deposit box, which I leave to the hereby mentioned custodian, Attorney Rick Parker of Buchanan & Parker. I further move to amend my will to ensure Alexander Brooks is the sole heir to all business assets of Linq Steel Co. and that Nina Vanderwal be sole heir to all personal assets upon my death.
All monies gained from Linq Steel Co., including all materials of the business estate, will be deposited into a trust fund under Alexander’s name, which the trustee, Rick Parker, will oversee until Alexander reaches the age of 21.
Rick Parker will notify Jacqueline Brooks in a private meeting to go over the terms of this amended will, and I please beg of you, for the sake of my son, that none of this information leave the parties involved.
Nina, I lied about one more thing. When I said in my vows that I would love you till death do us part, I wasn’t being honest, because I doubt death would be enough to make me stop loving you.
Bennett Vanderwal
That bastard. And here I thought I was a good actress, but it was them. They fooled me—played me. They were deceivers just as I was—just as I continue to be. I always knew Jacqueline wanted to fuck my husband, I just never knew she actually had. So now I sit here, stoic. I want to laugh at the circuitous nature of it all—the incessant game that continues to reveal hidden secrets, but ironically, they’re now someone else’s secrets.
Rick sets the letter down and leans forward, pinching the bridge of his nose. Releasing a heavy breath, his eyes finally meet mine. “Did you know?”
I shake my head.
He shifts in his seat, regaining his composure, but I can see his discomfort slicing through his weak façade. “Well, then . . . as you’re probably aware, the majority of his assets are named under the business. That’s not to say that you won’t be left with a considerable inheritance though.”
Feigning irritation, my words bite when I state, “It isn’t the money I care about.”
“Of course not. I apologize. I didn’t mean to insinuate that—”
“It’s fine. I’m a little overwhelmed with everything right now. So if we’re through . . . ”
“Yes,” he responds, standing and walking around his desk. He holds his hand out for me and I take it as I stand up.
“Thank you.”
Rick leads me out of his office, and when I step onto the elevator, he sticks his arm out, preventing the door from closing and offers, “I’m so sorry you had to find out about Bennett like this.”
“Well, I guess nobody’s perfect, are they?”
“No. I suppose not.”
He drops his arm, allowing the doors to shut as he gives me a nod of sympathy, but I would only need it if I cared for the two people that I just found out have been betraying me. Only I don’t. His son can have the business assets, because honestly, the money feels tainted now. I’ll take it, find a way to start a new life, but that money will always be marked in Declan’s blood—my heart’s blood. Bennett’s death was never worth the life of Declan. Nothing is worth the life of the man who owned every piece of me.
MINUTES TURN HOURS turn days.
A monotonous routine of depression follows me everywhere I go. The razor sharp agony of my bleeding heart aches painfully for Declan. I miss him. Sometimes I think if I cry hard enough, he’ll come back. As if life would be that giving.
No.
Life is a piece of shit.
It gave me a taste—one taste of sweetness—before ripping it away from me. The moment I decided to believe in hope, to believe in goodness, it was taken, only to remind me that I’m all alone in this world. But for once, I wanted to believe. I wanted to dig deep to find the good in me so that I could give it to him, however small of a piece it was.
I don my ink, bathed in black, to mourn my loves, but it isn’t their funerals I attend, it’s his. I don’t even have to pretend for family and friends because the depth of my heartache runs deep inside of me, only it runs for Declan and Pike, not Bennett, whose funeral I am preparing to leave for.
I’ve stayed far away from any news on Declan and Pike; their funerals have come and gone, I’m sure. But to show my face would be foolish. I can’t link myself to them if I expect suspicion to remain off of me. After all, I’m the spider’s silk that webs this whole game together.
Smoothing the wax of deep red lipstick along my lips, I remember how warm they felt pressed against Declan. His sweetness burned into them. Sometimes I couldn’t control my love for him, needing more, I’d bruise myself. Driven by pure desire.