57. Reid #2
“Anyone under the age of thirty, see yourselves to the next room,” Killian asserted, and a slew of groans filled the air as the four lingering children stood and left the room.
Shin and Hana exchanged a sympathetic look and stepped out as well.
They were polite and respectful enough to offer privacy before things cracked open.
Maia tugged gently at Blaine’s shirt, whispering for him to get up too.
He didn’t move an inch. “You think I’m about to miss this, Sunshine?” He scoffed. “I’ve been waiting years… YEARS for this moment.”
Meanwhile, Eugene leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, eyes flickering between all of us silently as Brielle waited just as patiently.
I spoke first to break the ice. “Eugene.” He looked up instantly, eyes guarded, jaw ticking once. “I’m glad you decided to stay until the morning.”
His face twisted slightly, suspicion and wariness clawing at his skin; probably didn’t understand why the hell I was addressing him at all. He didn’t respond.
So I kept going. “You didn’t owe anyone that,” I said. “But you stayed. That matters.”
His jaw flexed harder. He wasn’t ready to admit that last night broke him open.
But he wasn’t running anymore either, and the truth needed him here. “There are things,” I continued quietly, “you both deserve to hear. From us. Not anyone else.”
Brielle stiffened beside Killian. Eugene’s eyes flicked to Genevieve, then snapped back to me. “It’d probably help to know who you are first.”
Genevieve tensed beside me, but I ran a hand over hers. “I don’t expect you to have remembered me,” I said.
His brows pulled together, confusion knitting with irritation. “…Should I?” His question hung in the air, brittle and cold.
I met his stare. “No,” I said. “You shouldn’t remember me. You were too young.” He frowned. “But I—” my voice dropped, quieter, heavier ”—I remember everything about you. Or at least what I could in the short time we spent together.”
There was a flicker of something behind his eyes… A memory maybe? Recognition?
Still I kept going.
“I remember you rambling about your favorite superheroes, drawing them every chance you got. I remember the way you clung to your mother when she cried… I remember sitting beside her in field while you ran after a soccer ball half your size… I remember every time you ran to me. Every time I told you I was proud, tucked you in at night, woke you in the morning… I remember everything, bud.”
Eugene went still. “Uncle Reid…” he murmured gently before his eyebrows furrowed all of a sudden, eyes flickering between his mother and I as his frown deepened.
I watched it happen in real time: gears turning in his mind, the math clicking into place behind his eyes.
The timeline, Genevieve leaving, the life that followed.
I waited for him to say something, but he only stood, running a hand through his hair as he let go of Juliet’s hand, walking out of the dining room.
Genevieve went to stand, but I stopped her. She’d consoled him last night, lowered the pressure as best as she could… It was my turn to step in for the truth he deserved.
I walked after him, catching him in Killian’s office as he paced the floor, hands pulling at his hair as he shook his head.
“I can’t,” he muttered. “I can’t. I can’t. I can’t. I can’t.”
I could see him preparing to shut down, his mind looking for an exit that didn’t exist, trying to process and hold the last twelve hours in a brain that was fighting against the past.
“Eugene… right here. You’re right here,” I muttered.
He stopped abruptly. “You made her leave us.” His eyes found me, pent-up rage, anger, resentment searing in his gaze.
“Eugene,” I said quietly, “that isn’t what happened.”
“Oh really?” He laughed humorlessly. “Because the way I remember it? One day I had a mom. The next, I didn’t… and when you showed up, you were always there… always. And when you left… she left.”
I shook my head. “I expect you to be angry,” I murmured, stepping closer. “I expect you to be furious, to hate me for every year you spent waiting at that door. For every birthday you thought she forgot, every night you held Brielle because no one else did.”
“She was all I had…” he muttered. “It’s not like my father was ever there for me. Ended up being the man I couldn’t wait to erase. For what he put Brielle through… he should be glad I put him out of his fucking misery.”
My heart pounded faster in my chest. Before I could even think of what to say next, the words spilled out of my mouth. “Your father isn’t dead, Eugene.”
Eugene scoffed, eyes still not reaching mine all the way. “I watched the light in his eyes fade when I killed him. Made sure of it the second go around… he’s gone.”
I let out a breath. “Gregory forged documents.” Eugene’s eyebrows pulled tight, confusion folding into something darker as his gaze found my own.
“He faked paternity. He hid both you and Brielle from your mother. He probably kept every letter she wrote when she was able to. He intercepted every attempt she made to get back to you. He made sure she couldn’t reach you.
Gave her the choice to stay and endure being trapped in her own home, or never seeing you both again. ”
His eyebrows furrowed, the truth settling in a way he didn’t like. “No… No, that doesn’t make sense. My father was a coward. A drunk. A pathetic piece of shit who stole everything our grandparents left for us. He didn’t even have enough control over himself, let alone—”
“He still had the power, the freedom… I didn’t. I was put into hiding. I couldn’t keep your mother, Brielle, you safe from where I was.”
Eugene’s jaw locked. His breathing spiked. His voice lowered, cold and shaking. “No. She left because she didn’t want us.”
“You don’t believe that.”
“I do.”
“You don’t,” I repeated, stepping closer. “If you did, you wouldn’t still be here. You wanted the truth, you want to know why.”
His eyes snapped to mine, wild, furious, terrified. “You weren’t there,” he seethed. “She wasn’t fucking there when I had to raise my sister. When I had to be the one who took control of everything.”
“I know,” I said softly. “And I’m sorry you had to go through that.”
He shook his head. “Stop. Stop talking like you care.”
“I do care.”