Page 46 of At His Wife's Behest

“My campaign isn’t not the only one investigating rivals. The candidates vying for my seat are doing their own opposition research, and you just handed them a potential victory.”

Kellan collapsed in the chair facing his father’s desk, both hands filled with printed pages. “Too bad you can’t simply stand on your record, but we both know you’re more interested in helping the special interests than the actual voters.”

His father scowled at him. “You know how things work in DC.”

“I wish I didn’t.” He couldn’t stop looking at the images. “Why did they send these to you and not the press?”

“Because the photographer is blackmailing me. Maybe whichever opponent he’s working for doesn’t have the kind of cash he’s anticipating. He’s demanding twenty million or he’s going to the media and selling these to the highest bidder.”

Kellan wanted to throw up.

“I’m not pulling twenty million out of my coffers foryourindiscretions. You need to convince that rich wife of yours to ante up. This will embarrass her almost as much as it will me.”

Kellan couldn’t look away from the pleasure on his face in every shot. Connor had made him happy in a way no other human being ever had.

“No,” Kellan murmured, lifting his gaze to his father.

Norman’s eyes narrowed, the evil look he’d always give before punishing Kellan. “What do you mean,no?”

“Exactly how it sounds.No,”Kellan said. “Emma’s not paying a single dime nor will I.”

“I doubtyouhave that kind of money laying around.”

Kellan stared at the man who’d tormented, humiliated, and abused him most of his life. Emma and Connor were right. He’d allowed his father to make him smaller. Afraid. He’d been so convinced he was a worthless piece of shit that he’d allowed the bullying and the continued humiliation long after he could’ve walked away and started a new life for himself.

A life truly out from under his father’s thumb.

Don’t let your father define you.

He’d done just that. He’d been beaten down so much that he couldn’t see the way up.

Or out.

He glanced at his father behind the big desk, and the man appeared small. Old.

Weak.

“I’m not paying a dime, either.” He smiled. “Just so you’re aware, Emma and I are getting divorced. We’re done hiding who we really are.”

His father’s face screwed up in disgust.

“Let them print the pictures. I’m ready to let the world know who I am and live the life I should’ve been living a long time ago.”

“Do you have any idea the blowback I’m going to have when the country learns I have a faggot for a son? You arethe mostinconsiderate, worthless child in existence.”

Before Italy, his father’s words would’ve stung a hell of a lot more than they did. “I’d much rather be called a faggot than a racist, homophobic piece of trash.”

His father leaned forward. “You don’t talk to me that way, boy!”

“Oh? Who’s going to stop me?”

For the first time in his life, Kellan saw fear in his father’s eyes. He rose, collecting the photos. “What do you think this will do to Abigail? She’s young, but you can’t shield her from the media circus that’s coming if you don’t pay up.”

“Don’t threaten my child.”

“It’s no threat. You grew up in the public eye. You know how hard it can be. You’re making it harder on her just to get your jollies with a man.”

“It’ll pass… and my daughter will see me living my truth, for once.”

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