Chapter 202: Impossible Choice

"What is it this time?" Diana sighed.

Richard dragged a hand through his hair and started pacing, his fury shifting away from Ethan just enough for Diana to breathe again. "I sent someone acting as a lawyer to Bedford. He talked to Marianne and handed her the files to sign." He gave a bitter laugh. "She wouldn’t sign them."

Her stomach sank. "What happened?"

"She said she wanted to keep the files for a while. To read them. He thought something was fishy," Richard continued. "He wasn’t going to leave the documents there, so he took them and left."

Diana folded her arms, trying to think. "That doesn’t necessarily mean she knows anything."

"She is suspicious."

"She might simply be careful."

"She has been sitting in prison for years and suddenly she develops an interest in legal fine print? Something is cooking, and we don’t know when the hell it’s going to boil over."

Diana took a slow breath and forced herself back to the immediate problem which was Naomi’s husband. "Your man at the prison. Did he say if Dorian has visited her recently?"

"No, he hasn’t," Richard said.

"So maybe she truly wants to study the documents."

There was nothing left in him to argue with.

He was tired.

Tired of Naomi no longer being easy to control. Tired of feeling like every part of his carefully arranged life was beginning to pull apart at the seams.

"You handle your son," Richard said finally. "I’ll handle the rest." He turned away from her.

Diana exhaled slowly.

The argument was over for now, but nothing about the house felt settled. Hours later, after the lights had gone off and the house had finally gone quiet, Richard opened his eyes in the darkness.

Diana was asleep beside him.

He stared at the ceiling for a long moment. He then got out of bed, slipped out of the bedroom and made his way to the kitchen. It was dark, but he didn’t turn on the main lights. He knew the house well enough to move through it without them. He opened the knife rack.

He pulled one out.

The boy had heard too much, and Richard was no longer convinced threats of punishment would be enough. Ethan adored Naomi.

If he told her even half of what he had overheard, Richard’s problems would multiply overnight.

He closed the drawer and headed to Ethan’s room and pushed the door open. He stepped inside and switched on the light.

Ethan snapped awake almost immediately. His head lifted from the pillow.

Then he saw his father.

Richard stood there, waiting for a reaction.

The boy gave him none.

Richard didn’t know what to do with that.

Ethan was tired too. He was tired of the shouting, tired of feeling like every wrong movement in the house might become another reason for his father to turn on him.

So when he saw the knife, he didn’t feel the fear Richard clearly expected.

If his father had finally come to end everything, Ethan wasn’t even sure what his motivation would be to stop him.

At least then the hurting would stop.

Richard saw the emptiness in his son’s eyes and felt uncomfortable. He stepped closer, letting the knife hang loosely from his hand.

How did one threaten a child who didn’t appear afraid for himself?

Richard’s mind moved quickly.

Maybe Ethan didn’t care what happened to him.

Richard only needed to find the right pressure point. He stopped at the side of the bed. "You’re a big boy now. And even though you behave like you’re an idiot, I know you’re a sneaky bastard. So I’m not even going to mince words with you. I’m going to lay it all out so even you can understand."

"Seventeen years ago, I put my dick in the wrong pussy and it gave me you. If I’d known you’d turn out a freak, I wouldn’t have wasted my time and energy with you." He didn’t know what to do with Ethan.

The boy didn’t respond the way Richard expected children to respond. He withdrew. He avoided eye contact. He hated being touched. He disappeared into himself.

"You were such a good, healthy boy..." Richard continued, his mouth twisting. "Wish I knew what happened with you. Maybe your mother bumped your head somewhere. Despite your... weirdness, I have taken care of you. I’ve sent you to the best schools. I’ve given you a life people would envy you for. You tell your aunt Naomi what you heard, all of that goes away."

Ethan stared at him.

Nothing moved in his face. Just that same exhausted emptiness. If anything, Ethan’s eyes seemed to say that he didn’t care.

The comfortable life Richard was so proud of providing? None of it seemed to matter enough.

He believed money solved everything. People stayed because they depended on what you gave them. Wives tolerated because comfort was easier than starting over.

Yet Ethan sat there staring at him as though Richard could take every privilege away tomorrow and the boy would simply shrug.

So Richard changed tactics.

"If you tell your aunt Naomi, then I am in trouble. And if I get in trouble, I take all of you with me. I will kill your mother, your sister and myself, and I will leave you alive to live with the thought that it was all your fault. You did it," he continued. "You opened your mouth. You destroyed the family. You got everyone killed."

Ethan’s fingers tightened around the bedsheet.

"Choose wisely, son."

Richard straightened. He turned toward the door, convinced that was enough.

Then Ethan spoke.

"So it’s Millie or Aunt Naomi?"

Richard stopped.

The question itself mattered less than the fact that Ethan had actually asked it. That was the longest sentence the boy had said directly to him in a long time.

Richard turned slowly. "I thought you’d throw your mother somewhere in there too," he gave a quiet scoff. "But yeah. Millie or Naomi. Which one can you live with?"