Chapter 147 Broken Bonds

Chapter 147 Broken Bonds
Daniel POV

The cold wind cut through my jacket, but I barely felt it. My boots slammed against the asphalt as I left the basketball court behind.

Every step felt heavy. My palms still burned from catching Liam’s aggressive passes, but the real sting was the cold certainty in his eyes.

I don't need a mother, and you know that.

Liam’s voice echoed in my head over and over. He stood on that concrete court looking at me like I was pathetic—like I was the only one holding onto something already dead.

I turned the corner onto my street. Our house stood at the end of the block, the porch light throwing a warm yellow glow across the driveway. I shoved my hands deep into my pockets, stepped up to the front door, and unlocked it.

The moment I pushed the door open, my father looked up from his stack of paperwork spread across the dining table. He set his pen down, rubbing his eyes with an exhausted sigh.

"Daniel," my father said, checking his watch. "It's late. Where have you been?"

I kept my eyes on the floor, stepping toward the stairs. "Just out."

My father stood, stepped closer, and rested a warm hand on my shoulder. He lifted his other hand and checked my temperature against my forehead. "Your body is cold; you look exhausted."

"I'm fine, Dad," I said, my voice tight as I stepped back so his hand fell away.

My father let out a slow sigh, turning his attention back toward his papers. "Your stepmother has been up in her room all evening. I need to finish reviewing these documents before morning—go up and check on her, will you? See if she needs anything."

A cold knot twisted in my stomach. A sharp pang of guilt sliced through my chest as I looked at my father's tired, unsuspecting face. He genuinely cared for her, completely clueless that the woman he loved was keeping a massive secret.

"Yeah," I said quietly. "I'll check on her."

I turned away and headed up the stairs. Ever since I confronted her about who Liam really was, the house had been an absolute warzone. I had spent years keeping my distance from her after my birth mother left, terrified that if I trusted Mrs. Olivia, she would disappear too. It took years for me to let my guard down—only to learn she had been keeping Liam a secret the entire time.

I stopped outside Mrs. Olivia's bedroom door, taking a slow breath before turning the handle and stepping inside.

Mrs. Olivia was sitting on the edge of her bed, staring down at a photograph in her hands. She jumped at the sound of the door opening, her head snapping up, and quickly shoved the picture under a pillow on the mattress.

"Daniel," she said, her voice trembling as she stood up immediately.

I ignored her tone and walked straight toward the bed. Before she could react, I reached out, yanked the pillow back, and snatched the old, worn photo.

Mrs. Olivia gasped, reaching out a desperate hand. "Daniel, please—don't!"

I looked down at the image. It was a young Liam, smiling in a faded school portrait. A sharp surge of disgust and bitter betrayal rolled through me. I felt like a fool for ever lowering my guard for her.

Slowly, holding her gaze, I gripped both sides of the photo and tore it straight down the middle.

Mrs. Olivia let out a sharp, choked scream, dropping to her knees on the floor. "No! Daniel, give it back!"

Her hands scrambled wildly across the carpet as I dropped the two ripped pieces onto the floor. She reached up, clutching the torn scraps against her chest as if trying to press the paper back together, tears instantly streaming down her pale cheeks.

For the first time in days, a dark wave of satisfaction washed over me—a toxic sense of control over the person who had shattered my trust.

"I just met him," I said, my voice cold and biting. "I came straight from where we met."

Mrs. Olivia winced, her shoulders shaking violently as she cradled the torn photo against her heart. "Daniel... what did Liam say?"

"He told me to keep you away from him," I said, stepping closer. "He said he doesn't need a mother. He doesn't want you in his life, and he sure as hell doesn't want you near mine."

Mrs. Olivia pressed her hand over her mouth, a choked sob escaping her chest. She looked up at me from the floor, her voice shaking uncontrollably. "If you hate this so much... why haven't you told your father yet? Why are you keeping this from him?"

A dark, bitter smile touched my lips. "Because I enjoy seeing you like this."

Mrs. Olivia flinched as if I had struck her, clutching the paper closer as fresh tears spilled over her hands.

"I want you to sit in this room every single night, terrified that I'm going to ruin your perfect marriage," I whispered, leaning down closer. "I want your conscience to eat you alive until you can't even rest."

She stared up at me, speechlessly gripping the ruined memory of her other son, her chest heaving with sobs.

I turned around, opened the door, and stepped out into the quiet hallway, slamming the heavy wood shut behind me.

The sudden sound echoed through the upper floor. I hurried down the stairs, taking the steps two at a time. My heart pounded against my ribs. My father stood near the bottom, frowning as I brushed past him toward the kitchen.

"Daniel!" my father called out, turning to follow. "What was that? Why are you slamming doors at this hour?"

I​ pulled open the refrigerator, grabbed a cold bottle of water, and twisted off the cap. I took a slow drink before looking back at him.

I looked back over my shoulder at my dad.

"She's fine, Dad," I said, my voice dead flat as I set the bottle on the counter. "There's nothing wrong with her. She's just tired."

My father searched my expression, but I forced every bit of emotion off my face, turned on my heel, and walked out of the kitchen toward my bedroom.