Chapter Forty-Eight Damion
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
“Don’t let the October rain trick you with its softness. It’s got bone-chilling teeth.”
—Remington
Damion
I walked in the front door—stumbled, actually—and couldn’t believe my eyes.
Somehow, I’d imagined my parents not being there, but they were both at the dining room table, waiting for me.
At two a.m.
I’d been walking around the city for hours, feeling numb. Broken. And, oh yeah, like the biggest asshole on the planet. Her betrayed face and tearful voice were all I could think about, all I could see.
It was on repeat in my head: my punishment.
Did I really lose her already?
But whatever numbness I’d been feeling was instantly replaced with an all-consuming rage at the sound of my dad’s voice.
“Damion,” my dad said, not looking up from whatever he was doing on his phone as he chewed on a bagel. “If you’re going to be out until all hours of the night, you need to let us know. Your mother was worried.”
My mother smiled at me and didn’t look worried at all.
In fact, she and my father didn’t look like they cared that they’d blown up the motherfucking Age of Innocence ball. That they’d completely humiliated a nice family.
I dropped my tuxedo jacket on the chair beside me, dumbfounded.
Fucking stupefied by the fact that this was real life.
And as I looked at his blasé face, I wanted to argue.
I needed to fight.
“What the fuck was that?” I asked.
I didn’t speak to my parents like that. I didn’t shout.
Especially at my dad.
Both of my parents looked up at me in shock.
My dad gave me a measuring look, eyebrows raised over his glasses and chin down, like he was assessing the situation. “You’re going to have to be more specific.”
“Okay, well, specifically,” I ground out through my teeth, “why did you do what you did? Why would you serve the Lowells in the middle of the ball, in front of everyone?”
My dad crossed his arms, and I couldn’t tell if he was surprised I was questioning him, or pissed off that I dared.
He just stared me down.
And then he said, “You know why.”
“Do I?” I asked, hungry for this fight. “Actually, please enlighten me, because I don’t have any idea why you would do that to someone.”
“Don’t be a child, Damion,” he said, his furrowed brow and dismissive tone letting me know I’d disappointed him yet again by not understanding his ways. “There are always strategies when it comes to business.”
“But this wasn’t business!” I said, so frustrated that I wanted to kick things over. “The Lowells have nothing to do with Rutledge business!”
“Riverside Manor is our business,” he calmly stated. “They put themselves in our business when they stole our house.”
My house, I wanted to correct, because I knew Remi hadn’t wanted my parents to have it.
“By serving the papers publicly,” he said, “we’ve taken the upper hand. Everyone now knows that the Lowells are not to be trusted, and the Lowells now know that the Rutledges are not playing around.”
I felt sick as I looked at him, as his air of superiority wafted around him like a scent.
“But you don’t have proof of anything,” I argued, wondering how in the hell to get through to him. “Trust me, I tried to find some, but it doesn’t exist because they didn’t steal anything.”
“Perception is reality,” he replied with a cool shrug. “And trust me, if these small-town nobodies start worrying they’re going to lose everything, then they’ll be more than willing to make a deal that leaves us with the house.”
I pictured the Lowell family—Liam, Julia, and her parents—and it just felt wrong that he was still categorizing them as “small-town nobodies” when we knew them now.
And they weren’t that.
But it was clear that he wasn’t going to back down.
He was going to do whatever it took to win, regardless of anything else.
“You seriously still want to evict them, even if they inherited it fair and square?”
“You wanted to evict them not so long ago, Dame,” he said with a half laugh, sounding like I was a ridiculous little boy. “Is this about the girl, is that what this is? And now you want to give away a fortune?”
“It’s not mine to give away!” I said in disgust, picturing her tear-streaked face.
You’re a Tom.
I couldn’t stop hearing her say it, the accusation in her tone, the disgust in her eyes.
I said, “This belonged to Remi, and he wanted them to have it. It’s not about a girl, it’s about right and wrong—”
“Protecting our family isn’t wrong,” he interjected.
“Protecting from what?” I yelled, my voice echoing off the walls. “We’re not protecting shit—we’re trying to steal something from people who did nothing to deserve this!”
“Damion!” my mom said, her mouth dropping open in shock. “Will you please calm down? Everything is going to be fine.”
“How can it be fine?”
I looked at my dad and wanted to rage.
I wanted to cry, actually, because I felt so helpless. I cleared my tight throat and said, “And how could you steal from me?”
“I’m sorry—what?” he said, his voice loud now. He looked at me like I was out of my mind. “What are you talking about?”
“The photo of Uncle Remi with the Lowells that was in my room…? You took it and used it without even telling me. The picture from my phone too. Those were mine, but—”
“I’m trying to get your house back, Damion,” he said, cutting me off. “I know Remi didn’t particularly like me and he damn sure didn’t want me to have Riverside Manor, but I’m trying to get it for you!”
“We both know that’s bullshit and you’re just trying to get a win,” I said, suddenly out of fight. I just shook my head, so fucking done. “Don’t pretend it’s for me.”
“Damion.” My mother tilted her head and her eyes narrowed. There was disbelief in her tone when she lowered her voice and asked, “Are you okay?”
I shrugged and coughed out a laugh, unsure how to respond to that question when I was suddenly too fucking emo to speak. My chest hurt and my shoulders were sore and I was struggling to keep it together, so I just said, “I. Am. Fine.”
“Are you?” My father got out of his chair and crossed the room, not stopping until he was standing right in front of me. He looked into my eyes, his hawklike gaze unreadable, and he said, “Because you don’t look fine.”