Fold

There's a long sigh on the other line and I revel in his a

About as much as you cost me, you piece of shit.

My heart thumps against my chest like a drum. This is it. The moment that's been building like a volcano for as long as I can remember. “How about every fucking dime you have, for starters.”

“Very fu

Ice flows through my veins. “Do you hear me laughing, old man?”

He clears his throat. “What the hell is going on with you?”

My head spins and I close my eyes, trying my hardest to keep the monsters at bay. “That's really none of your concern. The only thing you should be worried about is making sure that I get what I'm asking for.”

The football game he was listening to in the background mutes. “Is that supposed to scare me?”

The familiar feeling of being weak and defenseless makes my stomach knot and I nearly choke on the bile crawling up my throat.

Gripping the railing until my knuckles turn white, I remind myself that the only way to win against a demon...is to be crueler than they are. “Damn right you should be scared.”

“Son, you're either drunk, high, or just plain fucking stupid. I don't know who you think you're trying to blackmail, or what kind of stunt you think you're pulling, but you've got nothing on me, you teenage punk.”

“That's where you're wrong.”

“I have no idea what you're talking about.”

It's no longer bile choking me; it’s the deep dark secret laced with so much shame and fear that I've never been able to tell another soul. The one swept so far under the rug—it's easier to pretend it never happened, just like he does.

“I'll tell everyone the truth about you. I'll tell the world exactly who and what you are.”

Because I've never forgotten. Even though you have.

He's quiet for what feels like an eternity before he whispers, “This is extortion.”

I snort. “Bravo. Nothing gets by you.”

His breathing becomes shaky and I smile. There's a sick satisfaction in being able to rip the control right out from under him.

For as long as I can remember, the unspoken event of that night has been my key to getting whatever I wanted out of him. And while that pretty much qualifies me as a warped individual, because any normal child would have told someone instead of turning to blackmail—he's used it to his own advantage by enabling me into silence via feeding my gambling issues.

This whole charade has been going on for so long, I barely remember life before it. And every time I tried to tell my brother the truth about that night...I couldn't.

It used to be the shame that held me back. The horror of what Asher would think about me. Of what others would think if they knew.

But somewhere down the road, it became the shame of what I was doing—blackmailing my father instead of turning him in—that prevented me from uttering the truth.

In other words, the stone-cold reality that I'm not a good person, and odds are I'll never be.

But having a child changes everything because I have someone other than myself to think about and protect. Which means it's game over.

Before I cut ties with the bastard altogether, though, I'm taking every pe

“You have no proof. What you're insinuating is nothing more than an unsubstantiated allegation,” he croaks. “No one will believe you.”

No one will believe you. Even now that statement causes a visceral reaction in me because they're the very same words that kept me silent all these years.

But I'm not a little kid anymore, and that means I get to do the threatening.

“You really want to take that chance? Because I'm pretty sure the media will have a field day with this allegation.” I pause because what I'm going to say next is completely fucked up. However, it will put the final nail in the coffin and make him realize just how serious I am about this. “And let's not forget about the recent scandal regarding your other son. Because I'm willing to bet that once the truth is out, people will speculate if it was your doing. Everyone will wonder if your perversions are responsible for Asher's—as you like to call it—sickness. You fucking hypocrite.”

“Goddammit, I made a mistake. Is that what you need to hear?” he shouts before his voice drops. “It was so long ago. I was angry and drunk. I didn't know what I was doing. I—”

“I'm not interested in your bullshit excuses,” I say sharply. “I don't think anyone else will be either.”

“Preston, please. I'm not some kind of monster, son. I know deep down you know that. It was a one-time transgression, one that I hardly remember because I was so impaired. One that I've done everything to make up for since it happened. I thought assisting you financially over the years and aiding your gambling pastime was helping you cope and you had forgiven me, but evidently not. I see how much I hurt you now, and I'm willing to sincerely apologize so you can move on from this for good. I'll even pay for therapy if that's what you want. But I can't—”

We're far past the point of therapy and apologies. “You can, and you will. You have forty-eight hours, or I go public.”

“How about we work out a new arrangement? A payment plan that will be very lucrative for you.”

He doesn't get it. It's not about the money; it's about me having the upper hand. Me calling the shots.

Me flipping the script and taking back my life...by taking everything from him.

“I'm not interested in anything other than what I asked for.”

I look up at the night sky and the bilious feeling in the pit of my gut intensifies when he remains silent. “Okay then, have fun in jail. I'm sure they're really going to love you in there.”

He makes a strangled sound and I know he's about to crumble like a house of cards. “I can't transfer millions to you in a mere two days. I'm going to need more time.”

He has a point. “You have seven days.”

Now seven can be your unlucky number too, motherfucker.

“Fine.”

I stop him right before he hangs up. “One more thing.”

“What?”

Whatever composure I was clinging to snaps. “If you ever go near my son, you sick son of a bitch. I will fucking kill you.”

A moment later the line goes dead and I empty the contents of my stomach over the balcony, wishing I could expel every despicable memory of him along with it.