Page 98 of Remi's War (Four Dark Horsemen 2)

However, with this realization, my stomach drops, and I whimper, already knowing Dad won’t be hired. The garden is gorgeous, and my father’s skills are not good enough to make it look better.

In fact, he will probably make it worse, and then God knows what the owner will do.

“Look at that house, Roland,” Mom whispers in shock and shakes my father’s arm.

Pulling my gaze away from the gardens, I shift my focus onto the huge brick house spreading horizontally over the property. Father worked in construction a few months back and made me memorize various supplies, and I did because I was bored.

My mind generally gets bored easily because I absorb information super fast, and then I search for new sources of knowledge. According to some studies, my brain will help me achieve great things in the future, but I don’t know about that. As long as my stomach is full, though, I will consider myself lucky. Hopefully my brain will be able to give me that.

Roses climb up the walls and enhance the fairy-tale vibe of the place where probably everyone loves each other and lives in peace without anyone being hurt.

The house has three levels, and I try to count all the rooms by windows. But I fail to catch them all. I can’t even imagine having so much space for just one family!

A few steps lead to the brown double doors that open, and a man emerges wearing a perfectly tailored suit. I gasp once again, feeling such an onslaught of power from him.

I hate this kind of emotion, because my father loves to brag; he has all the power and sends fear through me whenever I do something wrong.

However, this man is different. For some reason, his vibe makes me want to run to him and ask for protection from all the pain this life dishes out on me, and he would give it to me, no questions asked.

If my father can be the villain in fairy tales, then this one is the king who can slay any dragon.

“Oh my,” my mother exclaims, drinking in the stranger as she adjusts her skirts. “What a handsome man.”

Father barks a laugh. “He’d never look at your sorry ass. Believe me, I’d like to whore you out to him.” I wince at the crude words, hating them, and cover my ears, trying to block whatever nasty thing he wants to say next but fail to do so. “Have you seen his wife? She isn’t only famous, but fifteen years younger than him.”

That’s when a woman follows the man out, making me blink as I glue my nose to the window to study her better.

She’s so unusual.

She wears a long blue dress, her bare feet peeking from under it, while her hands are smeared in paint. Her purple hair falls down her back in waves, glistening in the sunlight. Her crystal-clear, blue eyes seem almost unreal on her face. She laughs at something her husband says before rising on her tiptoes to kiss him on the cheek.

She’s so beautiful.

“What a weirdo,” Mom says, jealousy coating her rude remark while Father licks his lips, and my shoulders sag.

Lucian Cortez doesn’t strike me as a man who would take kindly to Father staring at his wife as if she’s some cheap whore he finds on the side of the road.

And by how the man frowns and then a cold expression settles on his features, I know he has noticed the unwanted attention.

He squeezes his wife’s waist, giving her a loving look before descending the stairs along with her.

Love practically pours from them, and I stare at this couple, wondering what one has to do in life to be like them. And not like my parents.

Or maybe you have to be born into a certain family.

Father gets out of the car, hissing at me, “Stay put and don’t make a sound.”

I nod while Mom follows him, smiling brightly at Lucian. He ignores her and addresses my father. “Lucian Cortez.” He motions with his head to the woman. “And that’s my wife, Rebecca.” To my surprise, he extends his hand to my father. I somehow thought rich people didn’t really like to touch the likes of us, and my father shakes it. I see how he freezes, and pain flashes on his face. He tries to free his hand, but Lucian still holds it as a smirk shapes his mouth.

He must squeeze it really hard, since my father’s hand turns red. He shifts uncomfortably as pain fills his gaze, and somehow this brings pleasure to me, and I hide my smile.

No one ever manages to hurt my father, and in this moment, this man is truly a hero to me.

I know it’s a sin to wish someone harm, but somehow I don’t care. Besides, everyone already calls me Satan’s spawn after meeting my parents, so whatever.

“Roland,” my father replies, his voice strained. “Nice to meet you.” And I know my father understood the message, as Lucian finally lets him go. I bet he won't even look at his wife again.

What is it like to have so much power? And how does one get it?

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