Chapter 8
Drake
Nia gets off my lap long enough to go to the safe and return with the sealed envelope and the flash drive. I haven’t touched either of those things since I put them in there. Hell, I don’t even like to think about them. They are one of the few things in this life that put me in a bad mood. When my father’s former lawyer, Howard Banks, handed them to me, it was as if my skin was burned. She drops both items on the desk in front of me. I push back in my chair, and she takes her place on my lap. I wrap my arms around her while I look down at the items.
“I don’t know which one I’m supposed to look at first,” I admit. The words get stuck in my throat, and the more I look at them, the faster my heart beats—and not in a good way, like when I see my wife from across the room. Or when she smiles at me first thing in the morning. Or when she told me she was carrying our third child a few weeks ago .
She flips the envelope over and ‘read this first’ is scribbled in my father’s neat handwriting. She looks at me, and when I nod, she unseals it.
“Do you want me to read it out loud?” I can hear the shakiness of her voice.
Right now, there’s no way I can touch that piece of paper. I don’t trust myself not to rip it to shreds if he says anything that upsets me.
“Please,” is all I say.
She takes a deep breath, slides her finger under the seal of the envelope, and opens it before pulling out the piece of paper and unfolding it. I tighten my arms around her and rest my head on her shoulder. With every second that passes, my heart rate increases.
“My dearest son,” the letter begins. “The first thing I want to write is that I love you. Please remember that. If you’re reading this, I’ve already been gone at least a year. I say at least, because knowing you the way I do, you probably took your time in reading this. The cat’s out of the bag at this point, and Howard has told you everything I’ve done.”
Nia takes a breath, probably so that I can digest what she just read. That’s not exactly what happened. Fate intervened and led me back to Nia on a cold Sunday afternoon in March.
“Continue, please,” I say.
“Let me tell you in my own words what happened. Yes, I found out about you and Nia Nash, and I did everything in my power to break the relationship. I won’t get into the technicalities of how I did it. Just know that I did it. I thought I had succeeded, but a few months later, I found out she was pregnant. I didn’t believe the child was yours at first, but a paternity test revealed that he is indeed your son. She gave birth to a beautiful, healthy baby boy, and I made sure you knew nothing about it. I deceived her. I lied to her. I made it seem like you didn’t want her or Carter.” She stops again and takes a breath.
The fact that he says my son’s name is enough to make me scream. If he were alive, I would have cut him out of my life. I would have confronted him and told him he was no longer my father. I would have walked away from Paradise Construction. But he’s dead, and I never got the satisfaction of doing any of those things. It’s like a wound that will never fully heal.
“But you already know that. I’m saying it again because I want to take accountability. This was me. I did this, and Howard has nothing to do with it. In fact, he tried to talk me out of it dozens of times. He got angry with me and threatened to quit. He said I was selfish and cruel, and that no loving parent would ever do this. He told me I was a hypocrite, and my ways of thinking were out of step with the current time. He stood up for you, but I reminded him that our conversations were confidential. When he called bullshit, I threatened him. I say that so you don’t take your anger out on him because you can’t take it out on me.”
She puts the letter down almost as if it hurts too much for her to continue.
“I’m going to hold my commentary until later,” she says. “Are you okay?”
“As long as you’re here, I’m good.”
“Shall I continue?”
“Please.”
She takes the letter with shaky hands. After a deep breath, she continues.
“You’re probably asking yourself why. I know you, and I know along with your anger, you’re also confused. How could I, the father who raised and loved you, do this to you? You’ve probably called me a hypocrite about a million times by now, and I don’t blame you. The things I’ve done to you don’t match the values that I brought you up with. In the last few years of my life, I was a terrible father to you, and I own that.”
She stops reading again and looks at me, probably to check and make sure I’m okay. She runs her hands lovingly through my hair, just the way I like.
“If he was here right now, I’d punch him in the face,” she says. Her words don’t surprise me, but the laugh that comes out of me does.
“I know how painful one of your slaps is. I can’t imagine a punch. He’d deserve it though,” I say. “Please continue.”
She puts the first sheet of paper down and starts reading page two.
“Son, I’ve always had a vision of how your life was supposed to go. The day you were born was one of the best of my life. We were told you were going to be a girl, so imagine my surprise when the doctor pulled out a boy. My heir. I remember holding you in my arms and looking down at you. I only realized I was crying when my tears fell on your face, but from that day on, I promised you a great life. And you did not disappoint, Drake. You were not just a beautiful and sweet boy, but you were smart. Brilliant, in fact. You’re a natural leader. You have great empathy for others. You’re kind. You made me proud every single day. You excelled at everything you did. You got into the Ivy League, and I didn’t have to build a new library like I had to do for your brother. You’re my legacy, and you would take over Paradise Construction and lead it to new heights. If we were a political family, you would be my JFK.”