Shattered Dynasty by Ava Harrison
2
Payton
I can’t believeRonald is dead. After finally learning what happened to him, the sense of relief I thought I would get isn’t there. It hurts.
I never expected this reaction.
A part of me always assumed he left us because my sister did something to him. That she hurt his pride, but eventually, he’d lick his wounds, come back, and apologize. But that wasn’t the case at all.
Instead, I found out everything was a lie.
That’s the hardest part about sitting here. I’m grieving for him, but I’m also having a hard time reconciling all the truths that have come out since Erin’s phone call.
I’m out of place.
I know absolutely no one but my sister.
From where I sit in the back of the church, I watch the front row. People who I assume are his family sit side by side in the pew closest to Ronald’s coffin. They must be related to him since they always reserve the front row for family. Not the back row. The back row is reserved for people like us.
People who sneak in, hoping no one recognizes them for what they are . . .
Homewreckers.
There is no way to sugarcoat what we are.
The truth stabs me in my chest.
The lie my sister kept from me all these years is finally out in the open for me to fully understand.
Ronnie was never our Ronnie.
He was their dad.
Someone else’s husband.
I stare at the people I assume are his daughter and son.
A blond woman and a handsome man are sitting in the front row. Beside them, an older woman weeps into a handkerchief.
The person he promised to share a life with. That’s the part I have a hard time reconciling. Watching them hold each other is a dagger in my heart.
He said he loved us. He said he loved me and he’d take care of us.
It was all a lie.
That voice in my head hasn’t shut up all week.
Beside me, I hear my sister huff. The sound grates on my nerves. It’s like nails on a chalkboard.
She knew.
I might have been ignorant, but she always knew.
She’s staring at his family too, but instead of remorse over the part we’ve played in their lives, she’s shooting daggers at them.
“They can cry all they want. Wait until they find out the money is mine,” she mumbles to herself. I turn to face her, shocked by what she just said, and she shrugs. “What? I put up with that man for almost ten years of my life. It’s time to get my money.”
I wish her bitter words shocked me, but they don’t.
We shouldn’t have come.
I told Erin we should just go to the reading of the will, but she insisted on being here for this too.
But Mr. Baker, Ronnie’s lawyer, told us we had to be here after the service, that we were all to meet down the block at his office to discuss the provisions of the will in person. But that didn’t mean we had to come to the funeral; this is all Erin. Probably a way to hurt his family even more than she already has.
I only came because, despite the truth of the situation, I know in my bones Ronald Aldridge loved us, and we should pay our respects.
What that means for our future is the question.
Last night, Erin sat me down and told me Ronnie had another family. That he was estranged from them.
Ronald Aldridge was not the man I knew. He was a criminal, apparently. For these past few years―the ones I spent worrying about him―he was in jail for murdering someone. Erin claimed he was innocent, but after all the lies, how could I believe her?
She squeezed my hand, acting like a sister for the first time in years. “He didn’t want you to know.”
So, she’d accused me of sleeping with someone I considered a father instead of telling me the truth? But it got worse.
Her hand retracted. She swiped at her hair, then stared down at her nails. “He said if I told you the truth, he’d stop paying our bills.”
Something must have happenedbetween them when he was in jail because he stopped paying hers. Cue the freak-out and daily calls to me these last few months.
At the time, I tried to piece the puzzle together. Now I finally know the truth.
I will never see him again.
Ronald died in prison.
Someone got ahold of a knife and killed him.
The police have no suspects, but from what Erin told me, Ronald didn’t lack enemies.
My stomach turns every time I think of how he died. Yet, despite everything I found out, I still love him.
Which is why I’m here, paying my respects even though no one wants me here.
The service goes on, and I’m surprised no one in his family speaks. It’s short and lacking emotion. It feels sterile, and I want to get up myself and speak of the man who was the only person to put me first.
I don’t, though.
It’s not my place.
By the time they conclude, my sister is standing and walking out the door before anyone can see her. I’m quick to follow, adjusting my glasses.
“Go to Mr. Baker’s office.” She points at the building a block away from where we are now standing. “I’ll be there shortly.”
“Okay.”
Mr. Baker instructed us to meet him in one of the meeting rooms in the building. Apparently, things wouldn’t take long.
I’m surprised we are doing this now. Surprised we aren’t going to a cemetery first. But I guess the shock of the location isn’t enough. The speed of the cremation and service and now, the reading of the will have my mind swirling. Is there no burial because his family found out about us and are still angry? Did they care about him? They went to the service, but no one spoke . . .
I make my way down the block, my black dress clinging to me in the heat. My legs don’t want to move. Now that I know Ronald is dead and has a family, a whole slew of questions arise inside me. I don’t want to think them, but I can’t help where my brain goes.
What does his death mean to me? To my bills? To my school? I hate myself for thinking of this as my heels click on the pavement, but what if that’s why I’m being called to this meeting? What if I am ten seconds from finding out that I’m about to lose my dreams?
When I step into the lobby of the building, the cool air hits me and makes me shiver. Or maybe it’s just the nature of the day.
Of losing him.
I make my way to the fourth floor, where Mr. Baker told Erin the meeting room is. Last door on the right.
I’m not looking forward to this. Having to meet the eyes of his family will be hard. How can we look at them after what Ronald did? I know I didn’t see the truth, but they don’t know that. They have every right to hate us. To hate me.
If I were them, I’d hate me, too, for being here.
In the elevator, the music is low and depressing, matching my mood.
The air is too still.
It’s hard to breathe.
As I ascend, I try to calm my fragile nerves, but it’s useless.
Eventually, the elevator chimes, and the doors open.
In life, things get thrown at you—crazy batshit things—and you just have to adapt. Either that or die. I choose the former.
Pushing back my shoulders, I muster the strength to face this head-on. It doesn’t take long before I reach the door Mr. Baker told my sister was his.
The cold metal knob bites my palm as I turn it. There’s no going back.
I swing open the door.
A squeak escapes my mouth.
In the far corner of the room is a desk, where a handsome man sits behind it.
Is this Mr. Baker?
It would make sense, seeing as he’s working behind the desk.
Did my sister know he’s gorgeous?
No, not gorgeous. That’s too simple a word for the man sitting there.
Then, as if it couldn’t get any worse, he lifts his head, and his gaze meets mine.
Jeez.
My stomach feels like a dozen butterflies have exploded inside me. Their wings flutter rapidly with excitement.
I have never seen eyes that blue.
Deep blue. Like the depths of the ocean. Bottomless. I shouldn’t be swooning at a time like this, but Lord.
I need to stop staring, but I can’t pull my gaze away.
“Hi,” I say nervously. “I’m here for the reading.”
He doesn’t answer me. Just continues to stare from where he’s perched.
“I’m here before my sister, I guess? I’m so nervous. I don’t know why I’m here. I—he never told me”—I shuffle my weight between my feet nervously—“about them. About . . . you?”
The air feels heavy with Mr. Baker’s silence. Uncomfortably, I look around the office and take a seat in a chair as far away from the desk as I can.
This lawyer is much more intimidating than I thought he would be.
“You’re not who I pictured,” I say before I can stop myself. I can feel my cheeks turning a shade of red I’m sure makes me match a tomato.
“And what did you picture?” When he finally speaks, I am not at all prepared for how gravelly his voice is.
Heat sweeps across the exposed skin by my collarbone, melting me into a puddle.
What is wrong with me?
Drooling over a man is not why I’m here.
“You’re younger than I thought—from your voice on the phone.” His lips tip up, and he smirks at me.
If I thought he was handsome before, he is downright deadly with that smirk.
Not why you’re here, Payton.
“Anything else?” he probes.
“Um . . .”
By now, I’m sure I could pass out. I want to fan myself. It’s like I have never met a man this handsome, which is ridiculous. But not really.
I’m used to college boys. He is definitely not that.
Nope.
He’s all man. An attorney. And apparently, Ronald’s attorney.
I shake my head to right myself.
“I can’t believe I’m here. I told my sister we shouldn’t come. That we should honor him privately, but she insisted. I can’t imagine his family will be happy to see us.” I bury my face in my hands at the thought of more private proximity to them. It was easier for some people to be civil in public. “Do you think they know about us? I don’t think I can face them. Imagine finding out your dad has another family.”
When Mr. Baker doesn’t respond, I move my palms away from my eyes and look at him.
The playful look is gone. In its place is a look I can only describe as pure hate.
A look I don’t understand at all.
A fine line appears between his brows, and his lips are no longer turned up. A scowl wears them down.
But that’s not what makes my back go ramrod straight.
What makes my body shiver are his fists, I can now see, balled by his sides with white knuckles showing.
I’m about to ask him what I said to upset him, but the door swings open, and in walks a man closer to Ronald’s age.
He strolls up to me and extends his hand.
“You must be Payton. I’m Larry Baker, Ronald’s attorney.”
I look from him to the man who I now realize is not him across the room. I shake Mr. Baker’s hand, but my eyes never leave the blue-eyed stranger who stalks over to us like an angry beast.
“Trent Aldridge. And who the fuck is this girl to my father?”
His father?
Shit.