Chapter 115 A Little About The Past

Chapter 115 A Little About The Past
Nicholas’ POV

My eyes are fixated on the woman before me. They say it’s only when tribulations occur that we know those with true strength. That is exactly what’s happening.

My mom is seated opposite me; her face is in contrast with mine. Her hair is well-packed, her makeup is intact, and her skin is smooth and glowing like she had a long sleep. Nothing about her is out of place.

She’s busy with someone on the phone, and her voice is still as cheery as ever—like nothing happened, like nothing is about to change.

We are patiently waiting for Father... her husband to join us. I need answers; I’m sure she does too, despite how calm she looks.

“You can set up another meeting with the shareholders. I’ll send a representative. Okay, have a nice day ahead too. Thank you.”

When she drops the phone, she shoots me a sweet smile. Now I’m scared. I should be happy that she’s handling this well, but what if it’s all pretense?

She doesn’t point out how disheveled I look or how swollen my eyes are.

“Is Fiona okay?” she asks, her smile not faltering.

“She will be.” I didn’t want her to see me hurting. She already had so much on her plate, and the last thing I’ll do is worsen things for her.

Life must be playing a cruel game here. I’ve been blocking my mind from thinking of it.

Charles? No. Never.

Even if it were someone else, I’d still feel this way, but it being Charles just makes it worse. I know he wasn’t involved in Steph’s plan, but I pretty much have enough reason to hate him.

The air grows thicker when Mr. Riley joins us. I don’t need to look up to know that he’s seated opposite me. No one talks for the next couple of minutes until my mom breaks the silence.

“Should I tell the maid to serve you your regular coffee?” Her voice is painfully sweet. Too sweet.

“No,” he declines instantly. Is he scared of being poisoned? I scoff at the thought. Poisoning him would be too painless.

“Can we get this over with?” I bite out. The more he stalls, the more irritated I get with his presence.

Although I’d like to know: if I hadn’t followed him to meet his secret investigator, would he have told us about the discovery?

He clears his throat, his voice empty.

“I’d like to keep this as a secret between us to avoid scandals.”

Everywhere goes silent first, before my brain processes his words.

My jaw clenches so hard that I could crush my teeth. I take deep breaths. We don’t need to fight. We need to talk.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

“Okay,” my mom dismisses, picking up her phone like it’s nothing—like having a son outside the family has no weight, and the only important thing is to keep it a secret to protect the family’s name.

“Who is she?” I finally ask, looking at his face, searching his features to find any trace of guilt, remorse, or shame. But it’s unreadable.

“Who?”

“The mother of your… son.”

He pauses, looking at my mom first before reluctantly answering.

“Someone I had something to do with in the past.” His tone softens a little, like he’s remembering something significant.

“Did you know until now?” I shoot, trying to get all my answers as quickly as possible and get away from his disgusting face.

“No.” I don’t believe him. “That’s why I kept investigating.”

“What led to the investigation? At what point did you think you had a child elsewhere?” Now, I feel like an investigator. And trust me, it’s not fun.

“When he… he was deported for interrogation. The resemblance was striking. I didn’t take notice of it at first because of everything happening.” He pauses, looking away. “And when I did, my men tried getting words out of him concerning his background, but he wasn’t yielding.”

“Resemblance?” I muse. “For you to remember someone’s face clearly over the years, it shows that there’s a deeper connection.” I hum, deepening my gaze on his every move. “You didn’t know he was your son, but he looked like someone you knew? And this someone… care to explain?”

“I don’t think it matters now.” A hint of pain flashes through his eyes for a second before he blinks it away. Interesting.

“It does. If you are going to be honest with your family, you have to do it completely,” I point out.

He doesn’t say anything.

“Mom, do you know her?” I know that it’s not right to drag her into this, but we are all part of it now.

“Lexie,” my mom says. Her smile doesn’t reach her eyes—progress, finally. I’m surprised my mom knows her name.

Now that I think of it, I remember Charles saying that he named his company after his mom.

“Who is she?”

No one answers me. I drum my fingers on the table. Am I the only person taking this seriously?

“Let me guess. You loved her.” His body freezes, and it proves my point. “But… she probably didn’t come from a powerful family like Mom’s.” I smirk.

“It doesn’t matter anymore.”

Something in me snaps. I slap my hands on the table, startling both of them. It’s already bad enough that I’m being kept in the dark, but what’s not okay is this person called my father telling me what should matter or not.

“Riley Duncan! Don’t give me that bullshit!” I bark. My hands are shaking.

“It’s ‘Father’ to you.”

He still has some guts.

“What have you done to prove that you are my father? Is it because you never loved my mom that you kept treating me like I was never important? Like I never mattered? Now you are telling me what matters.”

My chest is tight. There’s a burning sensation spreading fast throughout my body. I want to hit something, but more than anything, I want answers.

“Answer me!”

“It has nothing to do with Lexie or her son. You were just reckless, and I don’t hate you.” I laugh at his words.

“Nick. Sit down. Let’s talk like a family,” my mom orders.

“I will, if you promise to tell me everything.”

“We will,” she assures.

With a heavy heart, I sink into my seat.