Page 169 of Tall, Royal Hater
Andrew Platmon handed over the mic with a tight smile. Caution scratched down the back of my neck at the direct look Johnny gave me before he grinned at Ablah.
“My dear little sister, it was always us from the beginning, wasn’t it? Our games and tricks. You sneaking a couple of Dad’s cigars at age twelve and me protecting you when we were caught.”
A few chuckles popped up as Ablah arched an amused brow. “Uh, you mean,youstealing the cigars andmeprotecting you when Dad said you couldn’t go to the clubhouse during the summer.”
“Semantics,” he said, flicking a hand through the air. “My point is we were the duo that did it all. And now that it’s your turn to step into adulthood and head off to university within the year, things are going to change all over again, but at the end of the day, it’s still going to be us two running the Platmon empire.”
He paused and cocked his head, squinting. “At least, that’s what I thought. But apparently, I’ve been wrong this whole time, because it wasn’t just us, was it?”
An ice-cold wind grazed across my skin as I realised the trajectory of his speech.
Mariyah straightened against me in understanding too. “That fucking piece of shit.” She jerked forward towards him, but I locked my arm around her, keeping her still, clinging on to every last bit of cool composure I had and needing her to as well.
“Johnny,” Ablah said, worry in her tone.
“That’s enough, Johnny,” Andrew Platmon warned.
“Oh, come on, Dad, don’t be shy about it now. I mean Ablah’s known since she was a kid, hasn’t she?” His tone grew darker. “Always Daddy’s little princess, right? Always leaving me out, always keeping me in the dark.” He chuckled a sinister sound. “But I’m not the only one, because our father, Andrew Platmon, has kept the entire world in the dark about his other son.
“Isn’t that right, Shehryar?” He looked right at me as he said it.
A shocked hush fell across the room for several seconds.
I didn’t tear my gaze away from Johnny, but I felt all a hundred-and-something pairs of eyes on me, heard the scandalised whispers and judgement break out, so loud over the ringing in my ears.
I locked my hand into a fist by my side as the burning heat of suppressed fury thrummed through my veins. Red crept into the edges of my vision no matter how much I tried to control it.
“Enough,” Andrew Platmon snapped.
“Right, Dad. Enough with the lying and out with the truth,” Johnny returned. “Shehryar is no family friend, he’s the son Father had when he was twenty-one with the daughter of the housekeeper.” He grunted, gesturing to Mariyah. “And for all we know, Mariyah is some woman he paid to come with him.” He squinted mockingly again. “Wait, can you even afford atawaif?”
“Johnny!” Albah charged forward and snatched the mic right out of his hands.
A violent monster roared inside me, ready to kill in the name of protecting the honour of everyone I cared about. Mariyah’s steady, strong presence against me was the only thing keeping me mildly sane and rational, stopping me from ripping Johnny apart in front of everyone.
“Do you know what’s funny about all of this?” Johnny continued without the mic, coming straight towards me. “It’s that Shehryar’s mother, whofailedto marry into the Platmonfamily, is now engaged to Prince Arsh of Touma. She clearly has a thing for rich, powerful men, doesn’t she?”
“That’shismum?” someone whispered close by.
At that point, I crossed the line of thrumming and was full-on shaking.
“And now ladies and gentlemen, her own son has come wandering back into our father’s life, acting as if he’s too good to be associated with us when really, he knows Dad has promised him half the Platmon empire, and he’s just waiting until he gets it.” I uncoiled my arm from around Mariyah as Johnny stopped before us. “Did your gold digger of a mum teach you how to play the waiting game? Did she tell you that you had a right to our father’s money? Is she sure you’re even his son?”
Silence. Cold and tense and brittle.
“Are you done?” I asked as calmly as I could manage.
Johnny grinned. “Yes, I think I—”
He didn’t see it coming. He would have shut his trap and dodged it if he had. But all the rich idiots who thought they were untouchable never really did see it coming until it hit them.
My fist connected with Johnny’s jaw, throwing him back onto his arse with a grunt. He went sliding across the polished floor as screams shot out around us.
“Shehryar, no,” Mariyah said, trying to grab hold of my arm.
But I was too far gone in my anger to be stopped. I ripped out of her hold and swaggered over to Johnny, clenching and unclenching my bloodthirsty hands.
My younger fucking half-brother clutched his bleeding lip, his face red either from the pain, anger, or embarrassment, or all three. “You’re a fucking cunt,” he hissed.
