Page 84 of Mine to Worship

“I am glad to hear that.”

“Ellia is strong and brave. I am in awe of her.”

“You love her,” he says wistfully.

I pin him with an intent look. “I wouldn’t have married her otherwise.”

The blow hits the mark and his fingers curl around his glass. He gives me an understanding nod.

“You have that privilege, I didn’t.”

I shake my head. “No, old man, money was just more important to you.”

I clench my fist around the glass, raw emotions pushing me toward the edge.

“It’s how I have been raised.”

“At least you were raised by your real father,” I spit, and he sighs.

“Do you think it has been easy for me?”

Walter shuts his eyes and I gnash my teeth so hard my jaw might crack.

“Were you even happy I was born?”

His silence stabs me, and my heart drops.

“At least you’re honest,” I snort.

“I was shocked when Valentina told me she was pregnant. I knew you were mine the moment you opened your eyes. I might have not wanted you from the beginning, but I have loved you from the moment you were born. Do I regret giving you away? Yes. But I also had to respect the wishes of the woman who stood at my side for years.”

“So Olivia asked you to abandon me?”

He takes a seat, and he cocks his head.

“I was born into a family where money is inherited, where your sole purpose in life was to make the name you were given proud, and to increase that fortune.” He opens his palm and sways it back and front. “And everything was linked to everything, your behavior to your worth, inheritance to a marriage, a marriage that was chosen. I had a brother, older than me by five years. He rebelled against the status quo, a brave fool. I have admired and pitied him for years. George killed himself, leaving the love of his life alone. He wrote in his farewell letter that love is an illusion, because without money, it dissipates as if it never was there.”

“He was weak. Strong men can earn money, regardless,” I say and slam the empty glass on the table.

“I agree with you, but not everyone is a fighter like you. At twenty, I got married to Olivia, and our affection never turned passionate. We had sex to procreate. One night, I went out with friends and… After the first time, you rationalize everything, even cheating. Olivia and I shifted to a friendship after Richard was born, and I told her everything. I was a fool, believing it wouldn’t affect her.

“Before she died, she said it was me who had taught her how to hate and it was society and her upbringing that had sealed her misery to stay with me.” He empties his glass, the lines on his face stretched with guilt. “All those years she fooled me. I never understood why my son hated me, not until he became someone I am not proud to call flesh and blood. And Richard is a product of my choices, of my conduct.” He rubs his temple, his failings as a father clear in his forlorn eyes. “Women came and went. It was when I met your mother. She was twenty years old, and running away from a violent past.” He seeks my eyes and I fill another glass. “Her depression didn’t come from having you Kian, it was long in her.” His eyes plead with me to understand.

I wave him off.

“Why?”

“You were her ticket out.”

I prop myself against the office desk, twirling the glass. “Perfect family portrait.”

“Valentina is not here to defend herself so I won’t say anymore. She gave me you, and for that, I will forever be grateful. Olivia and I never fought—except over you. We compromised when Richard said he’d raise you as his own. And I believed him. I was wrong and I am inconsolable.”

“Is that why you left me in charge and not him?” I follow the amber liquid sloshing around my glass before I take another sip.

“It’s half of the reason.”

“And the other?”

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