The table is alive with noise. Nolan’s telling some wild story about his soccer practice, Nova interrupting every other sentence to “correct” him, and my sisters are laughing their asses off.
I try to listen, I really do, but my mom’s voice from earlier still pulses in my ears.
The words are like a rock dropped into still water. The ripples just keep spreading, distorting everything around them and making it hard for me to breathe. Making it hard for me to focus on anything except what Mom and Sierra might have talked about.
I keep my head down, pushing food around my plate while joining in when I can.
I need to talk to Sierra. I need to find out what she told my mother. I need to know if Mom suspects
anything.
Sierra is cunning. She’s like a snake that slithers silently through the grass and you only notice it when
it’s too late. When it has already struck.
The way my mom kept throwing glances at me, is like she knows something… Or if she doesn’t, she
suspects something.
Every now and then, I catch her watching me from the corner of her eye, with a soft, knowing gaze. It’s the one that can peel a man down to his bones without her saying a word.
I shift in my seat and look away, joining in on Nolan’s chatter about school just to keep her from asking
anything in front of everyone.
But it doesn’t stop her. It never did.
When I laugh along with my sisters‘ banter, she’s still watching. When my dad tells a ridiculous story about the time Nolan tried to “fix” the lawnmower by shoving a plastic spoon into it, she’s still watching. It’s like she can sense every thought and every secret I’m holding back.
I deal with businessmenwith minds as sharp as a knife, but none of them can make me squirm like my
mother can.
“That’s not what happened!” Nova pipes up, pulling me back to the present. She’s giggling as she shoves a piece of bread toward my mouth. “You forgot the part where the ball hit Coach in the face!”
“That’s because you threw it,” Nolan says, smirking at her.
“It was an accident!”
I bite into the bread Nova is still holding and exaggerate a groan. “Mmm, I think this bread is even better
when Nova serves it to me.”
She beams, pleased with herself, while Nolan rolls his eyes and mutters, “Teacher’s pet.”
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The laughter at the table swells again, but I still can’t get rid of the unease in my heart.
Mom’s gaze is still on me, unflinching and unwavering.
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It doesn’t matter if I join in on Nolan’s soccer drama or tease Nova about her “accidental” aim–she’s
watching.
Her behavior just makes me more desperate to find out what Sierra told her. I’m sure the bitch ran to my mom the first chance she got and told her about her pregnancy.
This is probably a tactic she’s fucking using to trap and rope me into her life and the baby’s. She probably started by giving my mom just enough information to make her ask questions and start digging.
When Mom starts digging for answers, she doesn’t stop until she gets what she’s looking for. Once the truth is uncovered, then there won’t be going back. I’ll be forced to take responsibility and Sierra will win.
It’s subtle, and she won’t have to anything, while ensuring that things go her way… I can’t let that fucking
happen.
When dinner wraps up, the twins drag me to the living room for a game of “monster chase.” Nolan whacks my leg with a plastic sword while Nova wraps her arms around my neck to “capture” me. Their giggles echo through the room, and for a few minutes, the weight in my chest eases.
Then I hear my dad’s voice. “Noah, join me in the study for a minute?”
The twins groan in protest, but I give them each a tickle before following him and leaving them in the capable arms of my mom and sisters. They’ll keep them occupied for however long dad wants to talk to
- me.
The study smells the same as it always has. Leather and old books. My dad settles into the chair behind his desk, gesturing for me to sit across from him.
“How are you, son?” he asks, leaning back.
His grey eyes, so similar to mine, study me… but not in the same way Mom’s did. This is more assessing than trying to reveal my secrets.
I relax, just a tiny bit.
“I’m fine,” I reply automatically.
It’s only now that I realize how I’ve been saying that a lot lately. Am I lying? Definitely, but I can’t have them worrying about me every single time.
His brows lift. “You look tired.”
“I’ve been busy.”
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He nods slowly, not pressing. “I wanted to talk about the company. The board’s on track with the transition plan. We can start the handover officially within the next two months.”
“That soon?” I ask.
His mouth tugs into a smile. “I’m ready to retire, Noah. Spend more time with your mom and your sisters. I’ve worked for more than twenty years; it’s time for me to retire and for you to take the reins fully.”
The thought hits heavier than I expect. I’ve been preparing for this for years, but hearing him say it out
loud makes it real.
“I know you’re ready,” he continues. “I saw it when you were eleven, standing next to me at the kitchen counter, helping me balance the accounts for the first time.”
I’ll admit that for some time when I was nine or ten, I lost respect for my dad after finding out the cruelty he made mom go through. I couldn’t understand how the man I had admired could do something to hurt my mom like that. He eventually built the respect he lost after he redeemed himself with my mom.
Aren’t you doing the same thing to Sierra? A voice asks,
I stop but push that thought away. My mom was innocent; Sierra isn’t. She deserves this, while my mom
didn’t.
I smirk despite myself. “I only agreed because you promised me twenty bucks.”
“And I did give you the money,” he chuckles. “But you stayed up until midnight asking me questions
about profit margins.”
The memory warms me for a second before reality sinks back in. I nod, forcing my focus on him. “I’m
ready, Dad.”
“Good. We’ll talk more next week.”
When we returned to the living room, the twins were piled on my sisters, who were in the middle of
planning a weekend “kidnapping” so they could have the kids all to themselves. My mom’s laughing with
them, but her eyes flick to me again.
I avoid her gaze, busying myself by helping clear the table.
“Something is wrong,” she murmurs when I pass her a plate.
I freeze before replying, “I’m fine.”
She hums low but her eyes are unconvinced.
The rest of the evening passes in a blur.
We say our goodbyes, the twins getting smothered in hugs from their aunts and grandparents. Once they
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are buckled in the car, I slide into the driver’s seat and immediately dial Lilly’s number.
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