Total pages in book: 148
Estimated words: 143253 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 716(@200wpm)___ 573(@250wpm)___ 478(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 143253 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 716(@200wpm)___ 573(@250wpm)___ 478(@300wpm)
I stepped back and stared at my father.
“He’s as much mine as he is yours, if not more.”
Dad laughed. “Really? How do you figure that?”
“Because I take care of him all of the time. I take care of the others, too. I always have.”
“Bullshit, you had a nanny most of your life.”
“Most of my life?” I repeated on a laugh. “Mom fired her when Kane was one because you were fucking her, and Mom never said that you could. We haven’t had a nanny since then.”
Dad waved his hand in front of me, dismissing the truth.
“Ryder, Damien will be fine. Don’t worry about the brat.”
Worrying about Damien and my other brothers was all I did.
“You have no clue what it’s like to worry about them,” I said, my jaw tensed. “You have no fucking clue.”
Dad sighed, and checked his watched, clearly done with this conversation but I wasn’t ... not by a long shot.
“I’m five years older than Kane, but I’ve always took care of him. I can remember being six and having to go into his and Alec’s bedroom because he was crying and neither you or Mom were home to take care of him. I was terrified. I had to climb into his crib and then climb out with him because I wasn’t strong enough pull the bar down.” My eyes stung with unshed tears. “I didn’t know how to change a diaper, so I stripped him naked and cleaned him as best as I could with wet wipes. I carried him down to the kitchen and had to lay him on the cold floor while I got regular milk and heated it up in the microwave. I cried the entire time and so did Kane. I put the milk in a bottle, picked him up, and carried him up to my room. I held him until he was fed, then I tucked him and Alec into my bed and watched over them until morning. I did that with them a lot, then I did it when the twins were born too. I did all that, never you.”
My dad shook his head. “Is there a reason you’re telling me this story?”
“They’re my kids!” I hissed, my voice low. “I’m telling you so you understand one thing. I’m sick of you disregarding them as if they’re nothing. They’re worth hell of a lot, and I’m not going to work for you if you don’t make sure they’re taken care of when I’m not here to do the job myself.”
“Ryder,” Dad glared. “They are my sons—”
“They’re mine!”
My father raised both of his eyebrows. He didn’t care that I was declaring that his sons were mine; he was surprised that I was raising my voice to him, and that infuriated me. He should fight for my brothers because they were worth fighting for.
“I’ve been everything that you have never been to them. To me. They’re my brothers, but I’m the one raising them. If they’re anyone’s kids, they’re mine, and fuck you if you think otherwise. I’m fucking done acting as your puppet. If I’m old enough to work for you, then you better start treating me like a man and respect me, or you can get fucked.”
Things were silent for just a few moments until my dad spoke.
“Ryder”—he sighed, long and deep—”if you want them, you can have them. I honestly don’t give a fuck. All that matters to me is that you and your brothers contribute to our business. It’s the entire reason I made your mother have you guys in the first place. I wanted only sons to strengthen our empire. There is a reason she aborted the girl she got pregnant with a few years after the twins were born. I can barely deal with your mother, never mind another bitch.”
I felt like air around me suddenly disappeared. I had never known this piece of information before now, and I wanted to scream and ask if it was the truth. I could have had a baby sister ... but I was robbed of that, just as I was robbed of having decent fucking parents.
“You ... You checked to see what our genders were before you decided on whether or not we would be born?”
“Yes,” Dad answered, unashamed. “Like I said, I only wanted boys. Girls serve no purpose to me unless they go to work.”
I balled my hands into fists because we both knew what ‘work’ meant for girls who got involved with my father and Marco.
“Listen,” I said, gruffly. “I’ll do this job, and I’ll do it well, on the condition that when I’m not here, my brothers are taken care of.”
My dad regarded me for a long moment, then said, “Deal.”
“Good,” he continued. “Now, come on. No more bullshit talk about your brothers. From now on, our only conversations are to be about runs.”