7. Genevieve
Chapter seven
Genevieve
Entering the Cancer Center, I walked over to the front desk, hand in hand with Eugene, as the chill of the lobby pressed into me.
The heavy smell of disinfectant and the faint hum of fluorescent lights wrapped around us, sterile, dense, and unforgiving.
Eugene swung our joined hands, oblivious, his little sneakers squeaking against the polished tile.
He was so excited to see her, his voice threaded with excitement the whole way over. The folded, crumpled paper from under his arm was a mess of crayons and bold lines that only he could explain to her.
My throat tightened, forcing a smile as I gave our name to the receptionist.
The woman behind the desk glanced up, her expression softening when her eyes landed on Eugene. “Room 108. She’s almost done with today’s treatment.”
I nodded, adjusting my grip on Eugene’s hand as we made our way down the corridor. The walls were a blur of muted art prints and closed doors, but every step felt heavier, pulling me back into memories I didn’t want.
Jamie had always been the backbone of the home: Raymond’s anchor, Gregory’s mother, the only softness I’d known in this family that demanded perfection. Seeing her like this, weakened and fragile, was something I could never get used to.
She always called this her karma: for going out of wedlock, for causing division in the family, for following her heart.
She loved Raymond, but when another tugged at her heartstrings, she let him pull until she finally unraveled.
For the family’s sake and because he loved her, Raymond forgave her. But she never forgave herself.
Eugene tugged at me, skipping ahead just a little. “C’mon, Mom. Grandma’s waiting.”
His voice had almost brought me out of my head. She always emphasized how staying a unit was most important, made me naive enough to think nothing bad could happen as long as we were together.
I wished I could believe it.
We stopped outside the door, my hand hovering over the handle as he knocked.
“Come in,” came her faint but steady voice.
I pushed the door open, guiding Eugene inside. Jamie sat in the reclining chair, an IV snaking into the crook of her arm, her frame smaller than I remembered each time. Still, when her eyes lit on Eugene, warmth flooded her face, the kind of smile that erased every wire and needle around her.
“There’s my boy,” she breathed, reaching out with her free hand.
Eugene rushed forward, holding up the wrinkled paper with pride.
“Hi, Grandma! Hi!” He squealed as she hugged him to her chest, kissing his forehead as he beamed. He climbed carefully onto the edge of her chair, careful not to disturb the tubes.
“Did you bring me something?” she asked, and he nodded.
“I made this for you.”
His chatter filled the room, a welcome distraction from the steady beeps of the monitor.
After lingering by the door for a moment, I entered, her gaze flicking over to me, her smile faltering for just a heartbeat. She didn’t need to ask if something was wrong. She already knew.
“It’s good to see you, honey.” She smiled.
I sighed, forcing one back, though it barely reached my eyes. “You too,” I murmured, stepping closer before I sat on the chair across from her.
Jamie studied me for a long moment, her fingers absently stroking Eugene’s hair as he showed her the scribbled shapes and bright colors on the page. “You’re tired,” she said gently. “More than usual.”
“I’m fine,” I lied, too quickly.
Her smile wavered, but she let it go, turning her attention back to Eugene as he explained in depth the meaning of his drawing. My heart felt warm at the sight, but it was immediately filled with dread at the memory of the morning.
“Reid is back…” I whispered.
She sighed. “I know he is.”
Soon, Eugene hopped off the edge of the chair, eager to explore the expensive hospital room his grandmother called her home away from home. I hated that she called it that in the first place. I hated her being here in general.
Jamie’s eyes followed him for a moment, softening, before settling back on me. “Gregory won’t handle this well,” she murmured. “He never did when it came to Reid.”
I clenched my hands together in my lap, my knuckles turning a pale white as I squeezed them.
“You know how he is,” she went on, her voice steady despite the faint tremor in her body. “Proud, egotistical… always convinced he has something to prove.”
I could see first-hand how rattled Gregory was with Reid’s return. And Reid didn’t even have to lift a finger to break him. Just being here was enough.
“I’ll always love my son,” she whispered, her gaze distant, “but Reid… he was never the forgiving kind. He’ll make Raymond pay for turning his back.
He’ll make Gregory pay for taking everything that should have been his…
and he won’t make it easy for you either,” she said quietly, her fingers tightening around the folded paper Eugene had given her.
I swallowed the lump in my throat, my hands still twitching as silence fell over us. She had no idea just how right she was, how Reid’s presence had already bled into my life once again, infiltrating the parts I wanted to keep safe and sacred.
“Reid is the kind of man who doesn’t forget,” I muttered aimlessly.
Jamie shook her head. “I don’t blame him.
The betrayal, the lies, being pushed aside…
Raymond thought burying him would solve everything, but all it did was give him time to grow sharper…
stronger. Raymond is hoping for the best…
for us to at least be above water at the end of it… We’ll just have to wait and see.”
I smiled another sad smile, catching Eugene, who had now thrown himself into my arms.
Reid’s words wouldn’t leave my mind.
I’m here to take back everything that was taken from me.
Hope wouldn’t save me from him. Hope wasn’t going to be enough anymore—but I could only pray it would be for just a little while longer.
I brushed out my hair slowly, the lamplight throwing shadows across the mirror as it lit up the dark room. Jamie’s words still rang in my ears, quiet and damning, and no matter how many times I told myself to let them go, they clung to me.
Part of me wanted to run, take my son and leave with just the clothes on our backs.
I didn’t sign up for whatever this was becoming, for whatever Reid was trying to do to us, to me.
But the perfect home I forced myself to believe in was crumbling.
The facade I was lying behind, curated smiles, secrets I tried to hold…
all of it would come to light if he wanted it to.
The bedroom door clicked open. Gregory slipped inside, his tie askew, the scent of whiskey clinging faintly to him. His eyes caught mine. “You’re still awake.”
“Couldn’t sleep,” I murmured as he sank onto the edge of the bed.
“Is the little guy in bed?” he asked.
I smiled sadly. “Out like a light.”
He returned the smile, even though it was forced. “You should probably get used to this… late nights, early mornings. Reid’s got me running around like some junior associate, like I wasn’t the one calling the shots only a few weeks ago.”
I set the brush down, watching as he loosened his tie before tossing it to the corner. After a few awkward seconds, I stood and crossed to the bed, lowering onto the edge beside him.
“You’re still the one in charge, Greg.”
He gave a sharp, humorless laugh. “Tell that to the board. Tell that to my father. Hell, tell it to Reid. He’s unpacked half his life into the east wing already, like he plans to stay until the company bends to him.”
I bit the inside of my cheek, willing myself not to react to him officially being under the same roof as us. Breathing the same air. Sharing our walls, weaving himself back in as much as he possibly could.
Gregory leaned back, sighing through his nose. “Three years I’ve kept this family’s name above water. Now he shows up, and suddenly I’m the incompetent one.” He reached for his cufflinks, tossing them onto the nightstand with a clatter. “It’s humiliating.”
To that, there wasn’t much I could say. There wasn’t an answer that would make it better. There was a heavy truth to his words, a painful, realistic truth that even my softening wouldn’t be able to fix.
The silence lingered, his breathing heavy, mine tight. I tried to lighten the mood even if it didn’t mean much at that moment. “Tomorrow’s Eugene’s first day of little league soccer,” I murmured, forcing a smile that didn’t quite hold. “He’ll want you there.”
His eyes flicked to mine. For a moment, something softened in his face, the brittle edge of pride giving way to guilt. “Tomorrow,” he repeated, almost to himself.
I nodded. “He’s been practicing in the yard. He’d be happy if you were there. But…”
He looked away, jaw tightening again, the moment gone as quickly as it came. “The way Reid’s got meetings lined up from dusk till dawn, can’t exactly do anything other than what’s on his agenda. If I miss anything, I’ll look like I can’t keep up.”
“I know. Don’t stress it; I’ll document the whole thing for you to watch later.”
His lips found my forehead as he stood, a silent apology I assumed… only issue was this wasn’t the first time. All the other important milestones I’d documented for him, too: Eugene’s first steps, his first words, his first fall that ended with both of us crying on the kitchen floor.
I watched him silently as he walked to the bathroom, the shower turning on as the door closed behind him.
Moments I’d captured on film, pictures, videos, and clips saved just for him. But he never bothered to look. Always too busy. Too tired. Always later—but later never came.
I sat on the edge of the bed, the hum of the shower filling the silence he left behind. My fingers toyed with the hem of my robe aimlessly.
I had stopped expecting him to be there, stopped expecting him to notice the moments that mattered. But Eugene hadn’t. He still looked for his father in the late nights or early morning, waiting for promises that would never be kept.
My mind couldn’t stop replaying the image of Reid stepping in… of him filling the role he was never supposed to, of him getting close to the only thing keeping me sane.
His presence pressed through these walls even when he wasn’t here. Now that he was… escaping him seemed impossible when he held all the power in his hands.
Jamie had been right.
Reid wasn’t the forgiving kind. And I was running out of places to hide from a man who never forgot.