Chapter Thirty-Three
Josh
Klein’s eyes go round. She stares at me like she can’t understand what I’m trying to tell her.
Regret and self-loathing squeeze around my neck like deadly vines.
I should’ve known something was up when Mom stayed this quiet, this long, especially after Bryce told me she hit him—because that’s escalation.
But I thought she might be lying low after trying to mess with Bryce and failing so spectacularly.
Should’ve expected her to try something.
It was only a matter of time until she tried something with me—and it’s finally happened.
Klein continues to look at me like she’s waiting for an explanation.
Normally, I don’t explain myself—or my past. I’m always scared of what I might discover if I talk about myself.
The therapist said it’d be good for me to open up, but he would never understand the terror of realizing that you might end up like your amoral mother.
But Klein isn’t just anyone—she’s my fiancée. The woman I want to come home to every night. The woman I want to build a life with.
The woman I’d die to protect. The weight of the recognition sinks into me.
I finally understand that this is what it means to be a true Huxley.
It’s more than just a family motto. It’s about being inspired to live a life of loyalty and unity—to put the interests of others before my own without hesitation.
I flex my hands, not wanting to reveal my relationship with someone as unhinged as my mother. At the same time, Klein has to know. Keeping this about myself out of shame would put her in danger.
“This is going to be an ugly story,” I say. “So…get comfortable.”
Klein looks into my eyes for a moment, then wraps her arms around me, as though sensing that I need the comfort of her touch.
I relax into the embrace, even though my heart is in turmoil.
As long as she’s holding me, the situation doesn’t seem as dark and foul.
“My birth mother is from a mafia family in some country called Nesovia. Her father, Vincent, is the head of its largest family. Nesovia’s sexist customs and attitudes mean that Mom would never normally control that crime family, but she badly wants to be in charge.
“When they wanted to expand into America, she saw an opportunity to make an impression on her father. My family was on his radar as potential legal support to help ease his family’s way into America, except the Huxleys don’t represent any type of organized crime.
But she wanted to present her father with the best, so she did what was necessary—which was seduce my father and marry him. And have his children.”
Klein gasps.
“When Dad found out the truth, he was furious. It didn’t matter that his wife was a mafia princess.
The Huxleys would never get involved. He felt deceived and betrayed, and didn’t believe the marriage could go on.
He tried to divorce her as amicably as possible, but that wasn’t what she wanted.
By then she had become obsessed with Dad for real.
So to prevent him from divorcing her, she decided to kidnap Ares, Bryce and me.
Bryce and I were eight at the time. Ares was a little older, and fought against her enough that Bryce and I were able to escape.
But it left all of us scarred in our own ways. ”
I take a deep breath before proceeding. “She left Ares in a forest fire to die.”
Klein covers her mouth with a hand. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry. I can’t imagine…” Tears of sympathy glisten in her beautiful violet eyes. “Why isn’t she in jail?”
Bitterness drips into my tone. “Grandpa didn’t want to see his baby girl rot in jail, so somebody took the fall for her.
And there was nothing we could do about it.
No hard evidence to throw her in jail, except for the testimony of a highly traumatized and injured boy and his younger brothers.
So Dad got what he could—a quick divorce and full custody of us kids. ”
As Klein processes, a thought flickers over her face.
“What is it?” No matter how tiny the detail, I can’t overlook it if it’s about Mom.
“That thing about somebody else taking the fall for her… She said a seventeen-year-old kid set the apartment on fire because he was trying to start a new challenge to post on social media. Apparently, he was told that he’d be paid if he was successful.
I’m just wondering if she was the one who instigated the kid. ”
“It wouldn’t surprise me. That’s her standard MO. You not feeling well…” I hesitate for a second, wishing I could spare Klein the detail. But the more she knows about Mom, the better prepared she’ll be. “She probably drugged you.”
“What?”
I nod. “When you had coffee with her.”
“But she didn’t make the coffee. We were at a café. You don’t think she owns the place, right?”
“Did you take anything from her? Go to the bathroom while she sat at the table with your drink?”
Klein thinks for a moment. “She handed me some syrup for my coffee.”
“There you go. She probably tampered with it.”
Klein’s jaw slackens with shock.
“She’s very quick. And using drugs on people is actually pretty popular on that side of the family.
Her brother Harvey is the same way, tried it with Ares.
You have to stay away from her. Please.” I clench my hands as the urge to rush out and find Mom and make her pay pounds into my head.
Except that wouldn’t solve everything. The law doesn’t like it when we take matters into our own hands.
“I will.” Klein reaches out and holds my hand. Then thoughts flicker across her face. “You also told me to stay away from Kenna. Is she somehow related to all this?”
“Yes,” I say, laying everything on the table. “She’s working for one of my uncles on that side of the family and feeding information to Mom at the same time. None of them can be trusted.”
Klein nods, her eyes solemn as she gazes up at me. “I understand. I won’t give either of them a chance to hurt me—hurt us. I promise.”
*
By the time we head to the kitchen to grab something to eat, it’s already after eight in the evening. We make some simple sandwiches and clean up.
I hate it that a moment that should have been happy and intimate was ruined because of what Mom did to Klein. Mom can come after me—but she isn’t allowed near Klein.
Klein goes to take a shower, so I walk up to my office and pour myself a glass of Hibiki.
Why didn’t Mom make contact with me directly?
What does she think she can get by going to—or through—Klein?
She moved in to Klein’s building before the Peking Town video went viral.
Did she sense my attraction to Klein even before I made it public?
It’s possible she heard something from Kenna. And the only thing Mom would need to do to ingratiate herself with Klein would be showing a bit of kindness. Klein’s so unused to it and so generous by nature that if you give her a drop of consideration, she’ll return it tenfold.
Mom has to take bigger risks now to get what she wants.
Harvey isn’t the only one in her way. She’s probably freaked out about Roland.
Has Vincent made contact with Roland—or vice versa?
Does she think she can manipulate me through Klein?
And…then what? Use me to get through to my brothers… or destroy her brothers? Or both?
You’re the most like me.
Yeah, she might think I’d see things her way if she gave me sufficient motivation.
I never wanted to get involved with the Dunkels. I would love it if somebody dropped a bomb on them. But neutrality is no longer an option, especially when Klein’s safety is at stake.
I open the bottom drawer on my desk and pull out a black business card with an international number written on it in gold ink. It arrived in my office on my thirtieth birthday in a #10 envelope. No return address, nothing to indicate what it was about. I called the number out of curiosity.
“Hello, grandson,” came Vincent’s voice. The velvety texture made my skin crawl.
Nausea welled in my gut, I hung up, then went to Bryce’s office.
Amélie, his assistant, didn’t try to stop me because she knows I sometimes like to wait for my twin in his office.
An identical envelope to the one I got was in the stack of mail on his desk.
I grabbed it and shoved it into my pocket before leaving. Bryce didn’t need the bullshit.
Then I stopped by Ares’s office. He had a court appearance, and I managed to grab the envelope off his desk as well. He especially doesn’t need to hear Vincent’s nasty voice or justifications. That fucker made it clear who mattered the most in his world—his daughter, not us.
I don’t know why I never threw out the card. I should’ve. But I tossed it in the bottom drawer of my home office desk and never looked at it again—until now.
It’s almost like my gut knew I might need a way to contact Vincent one of these days. I purposely relax my jaw, then call the number.
As soon as it connects, I say, “I want to see you.”
Vincent chuckles with satisfaction. The sound is surprisingly irritating. I press my lips together to contain any sarcastic remarks.
“Of course. I always knew patience would pay off.” He sobers. “I’m always available to see my beloved grandson. Let me have my assistant send you my address.”