Chapter 6
Kai
I really didn’t think this through.
Regret hit me the second the car rolled away from the curb.
Being trapped in a small space with him—my so-called father—made every muscle in my body stiffen. My palms were slick with sweat, my stomach churned. I tried to remind myself he was nobody. Just a sperm donor. Nothing more.
Still, the air between us felt heavy. Suffocating.
I prayed the car’s soundproofing would be terrible.
Maybe then the world outside could drown out the silence was slowly eating me alive.
I kept my eyes fixed on the window, watching the blur of passing streets, refusing to look at him or acknowledge the fact that his presence still had power over me.
“Kai.”
My name rolled off his tongue, soft and deliberate—too soft. The sound shot straight down my spine, like someone unlocking a dark, rusted box I’d buried years ago.
“Listen.”
“What. Do. You. Want?” I said slowly, clearly. I wanted this talk over. I wanted to dump him by the side of the road, the same way he’d dumped me out of his life.
“I think it’s time…” he paused. Of course he did. He loved the dramatics—always had.
“Time for what?” My patience snapped. “Get on with it.”
“Divorce.”
The word hung in the air like smoke. I took a long, sharp breath, trying to process it like it was new—like I hadn’t seen this coming for years.
I’d rehearsed this moment in my head countless times.
What I’d say.
How I’d act.
How I’d make it sound like a win-win, so neither of them tore each other—or me—apart in the process.
But now that it was happening, I didn’t feel calm or ready. It felt… raw.
“Why now?”
“Jay just graduated from university.”
I turned to him, greeted by that smug, proud smile that made my stomach churn. “So?” I barked.
“He’s grown up now. Just like you.”
“We’re nothing alike.” I didn’t even know my brother that well, but I knew that much.
“Jay will be joining the company soon,” he continued, in a smug, rehearsed tone, like this was all part of some big PR announcement. “And I want him—and Mary—to have the recognition that they deserve.”
There it was. Her name.
Mary.
His gentle, perfect, kind-hearted woman.
He hesitated before continuing, and I could feel his stare on me.
“She’s a good woman, Kai. Such a gentle soul. She took care of me when no one else would. Don’t you think she did a good job raising your brother? I want her to have what she deserves—something I should’ve given her years ago.”
Every word felt like a nail driven into my skull.
Sharp.
Deliberate.
Cruel.
“You had no problem playing happy family with Mom when it suited you. Why change? Did Mary finally get to you? Did she ask for her inheritance—the one she’s been eyeing for years?”
“Stop that.” His tone snapped back to the one I knew too well—the commanding, dismissive way he used on me growing up. “You have no idea what it was like living with her.”
“Well then,” I replied, mocking the syrupy politeness of a call-center rep, “enlighten me. Go ahead—file your complaint.”
“Her mood swings were unbearable. I lived in fear for years. Everything I did made her angry.” His sigh filled the space, heavy and self-pitying. “Do you know what that’s like, Kai? To tiptoe around your own home? To wonder if today’s the day she kicks you out for breathing wrong?”
“I know,” I murmured quietly. “I lived with her.”
For a brief moment—just a flicker—pity stirred in me. He wasn’t wrong. Mom could be… difficult. Loving her wasn’t easy. But pity was quickly smothered by the years of anger I’d buried under my skin.
“Yeah, I’m glad you noticed.” He exhaled sharply and that made my stomach turn. “She got worse after your kidnapping. It was like something broke inside her. Her temper—” he shook his head, “—was like a demon let loose.”
“She is unwell.”
He blinked. “What?”
“She. Is. Sick.” I met his eyes. “She’s been… not herself for a long time.”
“Cancer?” he asked, his pitch suddenly sharper, guilt seeping through the cracks. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
I scoffed at the absurdity of it.
Now he cared?
Now he wanted answers?
His words stirred something dark in me—an ache I thought I’d buried.
The sound of him. The presence of him. The way he made everything sound like my fault.
Did he blame me for it?
For being kidnapped?
For breaking Mom beyond repair?
Was that why he left her—for something easier, softer, cleaner?
Because facing the wreckage of what he’d done was too much.
“No, she’s bipolar,” I snapped. The words slipped out before I could think twice. “She’s had it pretty much all her life.”
“What is bipolar?” Dad leaned back. Then he let out a dry, mocking sound. “It’s an act, I’m sure of it.”
“It’s not an act. I live with her.”
He tilted his head, eyes narrowing like I’d just joined her cult. “Sounds like she’s getting to you too.” His mouth twisted into something between pity and smugness. “She did this to me, too, you know. Don’t let her. Listen to me, Kai—she does this to control you.”
I looked away. But it didn’t help. His words still crawled into my ears and stuck there like poison.
“She’s mentally unwell,” I breathed, louder this time.
“If you mean she’s crazy,” he paused slightly as if he was thinking, “then I couldn’t agree more.”
“Don’t call her crazy.” My tone snapped like a whip. “Bipolar runs in the family. If you’d ever cared about her—really cared—you’d know that.”
He scoffed, but I didn’t stop. The floodgate had already opened.
“What kind of husband runs away at the first bump in the road?” I asked. “Instead of caring for your wife, you found a younger, prettier replacement—with perfect health and no baggage. Must be nice, huh? To just run away, start over, and toss your problems aside like trash.”
I had never spoken to him this much in my entire life. Normally, I stayed quiet while he lectured, while he threw around words like discipline and respect. But now? I couldn’t shut up.
“It was all made up,” he said, brushing off my words with a wave of his hand. “I don’t believe in this bipolar, depression bullshit. People these days—so fucking weak. They can’t handle real life, so they blame it on their head.”
“Shut. The. Fuck. Up!”
“Excuse me?” His eyes flared in disbelief, like no one had ever dared to talk to him that way.
“You should try living in my head for a day,” I growled. My throat burned, but I didn’t care. “Try to handle what I’ve seen—what I’ve felt—then tell me about weakness.”
A cold, hysterical part of me clawed its way out. It startled even me. For a split second, I thought I’d lost control completely.
Something cracked open inside me—the part I’d locked away for years.
Not just about him.
About her.
About me.
Hot tears burned down my face before I could stop them. I didn’t care anymore. I didn’t care if he thought I was weak, emotional, broken—whatever word he’d use next to humiliate me.
“Son.”
That word again.
It hit like a slap.
He wasn’t my father. Not really.
I clenched my fists, forcing the words out through gritted teeth.
“I’m not your son.”
His expression stiffened. Then, the sneer returned.
“You’re just like that mad woman,” he hissed. “I thought you were better than this, but you’re the same—unhinged, manipulative. You should’ve gone into acting. You’ve got the face for it. The body. The money. You could go far.”
He let out a brittle sound, sharp and cruel. Like every sound that came out of him was meant to cut.
“You don’t mean that!” I shrank back, trembling with anger. “Tell me you don’t mean that!”
He leaned closer, his cologne and whiskey breath mixing in the air between us.
“I want out. That’s what I mean. This—this right here—is exactly what I was talking about. Her. You.”
He twirled his finger in front of my face like a wand, circling me as if I were a problem he could just erase.
“No,” I shouted, the word trembling out of me. “You can’t walk out like we don’t exist. She’s the woman you married. You made vows. You signed papers—didn’t that mean anything to you?” My words were filled with disappointment. “And me… You can’t just walk out like I don’t exist.”
The car seemed to shake. Maybe it was my body trembling, or maybe it was the pressure building inside my lungs.
Then his finger jabbed at my chest—hard.
“You ungrateful piece of shit,” he scolded. “You should be thanking me for breathing. Everything you have—it’s because of me. Without me, you wouldn’t even exist.”
“Thanks,” I hissed, my voice dripping with venom. “But no thanks.”
He blinked, taken aback for half a second. That was all I needed.
“You could’ve chosen differently,” I reminded him.
“What?”
“You had a choice!” I roared. “You could’ve used a condom if you weren’t ready to be a parent!”
He froze.
“Did you ever ask if I wanted to be born?” I shouted. “Mom told me everything! You didn’t even want me, did you?”
His face paled. “You were… necessary.”
“Right.” My cry was bitter and empty. “An accident. A convenient little by-product of your ambition. Something to trap Mom into staying.”
A coldness settled in his eyes.
And then—
Thwack.
The sound of his palm colliding with my face echoed inside the car like a gunshot.
The sting spread like it was on fire. The burn spread down my spine, across my back, until my whole body felt like it was lit up from the inside.
“You don’t know what love is,” he snarled.
“And you do?” A broken sound escaped me. “Why didn’t you show me any of that, huh?”
“Your mom and I…”
For years, I refused to believe I was born out of something other than love.
Even when Mom confessed—how she kept me even after he refused.
She knew Dad wasn’t right for her. Her parents weren’t after money; they didn’t care about marrying her off to something rich.
They just wanted someone who truly loved her.
And they were right. They saw right through him before she did.
“What a gold digger! You were after her money, her family’s fortune.” I finished the sentence for him—something he’d never have the guts to admit.