CHAPTER 077

CHAPTER 077
«TRISTAN'S POINT OF VIEW»

I loosened the unpleasant tie around my neck as I sauntered into the mansion, exhaling lightly after what had felt like an unnecessarily long day. One by one, I popped the buttons on my coat and slipped it off my shoulders, hanging it over my arm as I headed straight for the kitchen, hoping to find something to eat.

Instead, I was met with the sight of my stepmom and little nut standing by the counter, chopping vegetables together. The sound of the knife hitting the cutting board filled the room, accompanied by the faint aroma of whatever they were making.

My stepmom smiled the moment her eyes landed on me, and I nearly flinched at how wide it was. It was… oddly unsettling, like it stretched too far. It struck a nerve I couldn’t quite place, leaving an uncomfortable feeling crawling beneath my skin.

For a brief moment, I simply stood there, watching her expression, trying to figure out why it bothered me so much.

“I wasn’t expecting you so early today.”

I walked over to the fridge and helped myself to a glass of water before answering, “I finished work early.”

“Oh, you will have to wait a few more minutes then. Dinner is not ready,” she said, and I nodded, taking a sip from the glass.

“Where’s Dad?”

“In his room. You should go get him.”

“I’m tired,” I muttered, already turning away.

I ambled out of the kitchen and headed up the stairs, my steps slower than usual, exhaustion settling heavily into my limbs, and the quietness of the mansion suddenly felt strange, almost oppressive.

But when I reached my dad’s room, I stopped short. The door was wide open, and the inside was pitch black. Instantly, a strange unease crept up my spine, prickling at the back of my neck.

“Dad?” I called out as I stepped cautiously into the dark room.

My hand slid along the wall until I found the switch, and I flipped it on. The room lit up instantly, and chaos greeted me.

Everything was a mess. Opened bottles, half-empty and carelessly discarded, were scattered across the floor and the bedside table. Clothes had been tossed around without a second thought, and the curtains remained tightly shut. The air was thick with the disgusting scent of intoxicants, making my stomach churn. And in the middle of it all… was Dad, passed out and completely out of it, like nothing else in the world mattered.

I stood there, staring. What the hell was this?

The question stayed trapped in my head, heavy and unanswered. My gaze swept across the room once more as I slowly shook my head, trying to make sense of the scene before me.

So I had been right. Dad was taking drugs.

That was the only explanation for the drastic change in his behavior over the year; one moment he was frantic, the next gloomy, and then dull and distant, like a man I didn’t recognize anymore.

My stepmom had been taking him to therapy every day, but clearly… it wasn’t working.

I sighed, rubbing my forehead as a dull ache settled behind my eyes. What a mess of a family I had. And it didn’t help that I felt like a total stranger in my own home, as though I no longer belonged within these walls and the distance between us all seemed to grow wider with each passing year.

With another sigh, I turned to leave, eager to put as much space between myself and the suffocating atmosphere of the room as possible, but something else caught my attention. I stopped mid-step.

What was that?

Frowning, I walked over to my father’s unconscious form, where several photos lay scattered around him. Some had fallen onto the floor, while others rested on the edge of the bed, as if he had been looking through them before passing out.

I slowly squatted and picked one of them up, but my breath hitched the moment my eyes landed on the familiar face staring back at me.

It was a photo of my birth mother.

I had a few copies tucked away in my room, so there was no mistaking it. My fingers tightened around the photograph as confusion swirled inside me. Dad never spoke about her, yet here he was, surrounded by pictures.

Curiosity got the best of me, and I reached for the others, flipping through them one by one, but as I examined each photo, I realized they were all pictures of the same man, his name boldly signed beneath every single one.

I stared at the unfamiliar face, unease slowly creeping into my chest. Who the hell was he?

“Dr. Sean,” I read out loud, but unexpectedly, my vision spun, and black dots invaded my sight. The room tilted around me, forcing me to steady myself against the bed. I shook my head, trying to get rid of the smog clouding my mind, but voices suddenly took over.

They were all familiar. And somehow, they all belonged to one person.

“Nice to meet you, Kitten.”
“Mi amor.”
“You are mine.”
“Eres hermosa.”

I shook my head again, harder this time, desperate to silence the voices echoing inside my head. Suddenly, I felt sweat trickling down my forehead as I stared at the photo more closely. My eyes scanned the man’s familiar features: his jet-black hair, his thick eyebrows, his dark gray orbs, and his red lips. The longer I looked at him, the stronger the strange feeling in my chest became, like I was supposed to know him.

Who was this person?

He was handsome, that much was obvious, but why did Dad have this many photos of him? And why did seeing his face make my heart pound so violently against my ribs? So many questions that I needed answers to. Quickly, I snapped my head over to my father.

“Dad!” I called, shaking his hand.

Almost instantly, his eyes snapped open, and I gasped as I was met with a pair of unfamiliar bloodshot green eyes. They were wild and unfocused, nothing like the eyes I had grown up seeing. I watched as his gaze flickered between my face and the photo clutched in my hand. Then, suddenly, his jaw clenched, and his eyes shot daggers at me.

Instinctively, I took a step back, but the next minute, he was on top of me.

He tackled me to the floor with enough force to knock the air from my lungs, his hands wrapping tightly around my neck. My eyes widened in horror as I clawed at his wrists, desperately trying to break free, but he only tightened his grip.

“Dad, what are you doing?!”

The man on top of me could no longer be recognized as my father.

“You took him away from me! Why can’t you die like your wretched mother?”

Panic surged through me. Acting on instinct, I drove my knee into his groin and shoved him away with all the strength I had left. He stumbled back, and I immediately scrambled to my feet, crashing against the wall.

Suddenly, my hand flew to my chest as I fought to suppress the agonizing ache spreading through it, the stinging, pinching sensation that made every breath feel impossible. My breathing grew faster and more uneven as I struggled to steady myself.

My unsteady gaze drifted back to my father, only to find him glaring at me with pure malice, anger, hatred, and rage. What had I done to deserve this?

“Not only did you take Sean away from me, but you also killed my son, you ungrateful thing! I should have killed you the same day I killed your stupid mother. You wouldn’t have had the chance to take anything away from me!”

For a moment, I simply stared at him, my mind refusing to process his words.

Killed my mother? I killed my brother? What the fuck was he talking about? Perhaps he was mistaking me for someone else.

My thoughts shattered when his fist came flying toward my face. I ducked just in time, and his knuckles slammed into the wall with a sickening thud.

I spun toward the door, intent on escaping, but before I could take more than a few steps, he lunged at me from behind, and the impact sent me crashing to the floor. Then, without hesitation, he grabbed a fistful of my hair and repeatedly slammed my forehead against the ground.

But as my head continued to meet the floor, more voices took over. Images flashed before my eyes, scenes unfolded one after another, and I found myself slipping in and out of consciousness. Fragments of memories that weren’t mine or perhaps memories I had long forgotten collided inside my head, making it impossible to think.

Meanwhile, my heart went wild and crazy.

It was painful, unbearably painful, and with every frantic beat, I felt as though it would explode at any moment. A sharp ache spread through my chest, stealing my breath little by little, while my dad didn’t seem to care in the slightest. Then, suddenly, my stepmom arrived at the scene.

“Help me!” I cried out, my voice cracking as my lungs struggled for air. Extending a trembling hand toward her, I fought against the darkness creeping into my vision. I couldn’t bear it anymore.

The agonizing pain in my chest had only worsened, the rhythm of my heartbeat growing faster and more erratic with each passing second. My entire body trembled beneath my father’s weight as I stared at her hopefully, silently begging her to do something, but she didn’t move.

She simply stood there, watching the horrifying scene unfold with an awful glint in her eyes that sent a chill through me.

“Don’t kill him yet, Dan. I still need to get his signature on those papers.”

The words struck me harder than any blow, and for a brief moment, everything seemed to stop: the pain, the shouting, the desperate struggle to breathe. And those were the last words I heard before the world around me slowly faded away, swallowed by darkness as my body went completely numb.