Page 4 of Wreckage of Me
“What about your mother?”
And isn’t that a tough question? How in the hell am I going to get both of them out without raising any suspicions?
“I think she’ll be okay for now. Short term,” I make sure to clarify. “But I really need Ethan to be out of there. She won’t be able to protect him by herself.”
“Understood,” my buddy here nods in agreement. “I’ll have an attorney on this. What are you thinking that you want to do about him?”
I’ve been mulling things over for hours now, walking this fucking warehouse from top to bottom, trying to come up with solutions, only to find a loophole in each one and then have to start from scratch with my planning.
In the end, only one option is the right one.
“I want my brother to have him.”
I expected to have this huge weight off my shoulders at saying the words. But if anything, the weight is heavier yet. On my heart.
“Will he take him in?”
I don’t answer right away even though I know that Wyatt would not have a problem with it. He and his woman would take much better care of Ethan than I ever could. I’d fuck up his life for sure. This is the one thing I can do for him to ensure he’ll have a normal life. A happy life.
“He will, but he’ll need it all to be legal.” I rub my hands up and down over my face, wondering how I’m gonna ask my brother to take my kid in and raise him as his own.
“My attorney will take care of all that. Do you want your brother to adopt him?”
The question stops me in my tracks. I mean, what else could happen here? But I feel like I need to be smart. I have a feeling that my father will fight this.
“I need for the birth certificate not to be altered in any way. How can we do that?”
“Let’s find out.” Mr. Devereaux, as he introduced himself when I got here, picks up his cell phone, finds a number and puts the call on speaker.
“Who do I need to bail out today?” a gruff voice echoes from the electronic device on the table, making me chuckle.
“I got Mr. Dylan Knight here. I’ll let him explain his situation to you.” With that, Mr. Devereaux throws an arm out for me to take the floor. I don’t even know who I’m speaking with, but these are the only resources I got.
“I have a son. He’s four…”
I start explaining my situation, answer all the questions the attorney has for me, then sit back and wait for his verdict, so to speak.
“So, you are prepared to sign any legal documentation in order for your brother, a Mr. Wyatt Knight, to be Ethan Knight’s legal guardian for all intents and purposes?” he asks for confirmation.
“Yes,” I nod even though he can’t see me.
“This will include any necessary medical decisions, choice of education and overall wellbeing of the minor child.”
“Yes,” I repeat like a robot.
I feel torn as I listen to all this. I want Ethan to be out of the club, and it’s become obvious that I can’t get him out on my own, or take care of him on my own even if I did manage to get him out. But I also feel like I am giving a part of me away, no matter if he really was mine or not. Because even if he turned out to share more DNA with my father rather than me, I’d still not have wanted him in the club or around my father.
This is my one chance at redemption. At doing the right thing for one person who can’t help themselves.
“But you don’t want Wyatt Knight to legally adopt him and make him his,” the attorney asks for confirmation.
“I don’t want my father to be able to find any loophole and try to get Ethan back,” I finally reply.
“In what way?” I can hear the attorney’s surprise.
“My father also had sex with Ethan’s mother around the time she got pregnant,” I explain. “My father was under the impression that the baby was his, however, he didn’t want to claim the boy as his own. He paid the whore to say he was mine, then paid the lab to confirm the DNA test.” My knee starts bouncing up and down in distress, the more I talk. “Once I brought Ethan into the club as my son, my father ran a DNA test hoping to show he was the father. He did not get the answer he was hoping.”
“Okay, so if the DNA showed he was not the father,” the attorney inquires, “what’s the problem?”
