Fifty-Five
The three sisters and a large scary-looking man walked into the dining room.
He waited to call attention to himself until one of the girls asked about the evening before and why their mother was upset. “I happened,” Dominic said.
He watched his sister’s face as they were told he was their brother. He expected resentment or anger, but all he could see was confusion and then surprise and joy.
“Wait, he’s the child that was born before me and was stillborn?” Faith asked.
“Your father took him away from me and told me he had d-died.”
“What the hell?” Hope yelled. “That fucking bastard. I hope he’s rotting in hell where he belongs.”
Dominic had to agree if he was dead. The man had been a bastard to his soul.
“So, why did you come now? You’re what? Twenty-five?” Faith asked.
“My-our father hadn’t called me lately, and no one would give me answers when I called here, so I decided to visit.”
“I wish you had come sooner,” Hope said. “It would have been nice.”
Fuck, he didn’t need this.
“You don’t want to get to know us at all, do you?” Angelica asked.
“For what purpose?” he asked.
“You come into our home…” Faith said.
“It’s mine,” he interrupted.
“What?” Faith asked in confusion.
Aria spoke up. “When I pass away, the estate goes to Dominic. You three will have inheritances that we can go over later.”
“I know I don’t want to deal with the business side of things,” Faith said. “I’ve got enough to deal with with my husband.”
“Watch it, babe,” Graham said.
Dominic got the same vibe from the man standing behind Faith that he did with the Alastair guy the night before. “Who are you?”
“I’m Graham Maclean, your sister’s husband. The other two are also married to a few of my brothers.”
“How cozy, keeping it in the family.”
Dominic stiffened when the man locked eyes with him. He reminded him of the man the night before that was the scariest guy he’d ever met.
“Listen to me, punk. If you dare hurt this family, you will have the Macleans all over your ass, and I guarantee you won’t survive. So show some fucking respect.”
“How long are you staying?” Faith asked as she patted her husband’s arm.
“A few more minutes,” Dominic said.
“Will you come back?” Angelica asked.
“There’s nothing for me here until your mother dies, so why would I?”
Fuck, one of the men jumped on him before he could move and punched him in the jaw and stomach. They had to pull the man off him. Dominic stood up, righted his clothing, and then set the chair upright before he sat back down. Dominic tried to look calm as he blotted the cut on his lip.
“You need to realize something, boy. Do you think you had it rough? I’d love to see how you act when you know how they were all treated.”
Dominic snorted. “What? They didn’t get a pony?” he asked sarcastically. Damn, why did he have to act like a bastard?
One of the girls talked about their bad childhood, and he rolled his eyes. The thought of these women getting that kind of treatment was obscene.
One of his mother’s men stepped in and told him a few things that shocked him. His father always made it sound like they were having the time of their lives and were spoiled rotten.
His stomach tightened when the youngest daughter asked if he would talk privately with the three.
He shrugged. “Sure.”
“Follow us,” Angelica said.
“I’ll be outside the door,” Graham said.
“What, you don’t trust me not to hurt my sisters?” Dominic grinned.
“Fuck no, I don’t trust you. You come in and judge them by what your father told you even though you know what a bastard he was, and you act like a spoiled, vindictive child.”
That hit home for him and made him feel slightly ashamed. The shame turned to fear when the man threatened him again with a bullet in the brain.
Dominic needed to get the conversation over with and head out for now. There were too many emotions and too many people.
Dominic walked through the door into what looked like a sitting room.
“Have a seat,” Faith said.
He walked to the farthest chair against the wall and sat. His sister turned a few chairs around to face him.
“I’m not sure why you’re here,” Faith said. “I’m hoping it’s to get to know us, but I won’t hold my breath if you’re anything like our father.”
Fuck, that hurt.
He shrugged and smiled. “I’m not sure what I’m going to do. I was looking for Father, but no one will tell me where he is.”
“The bastard’s dead,” Hope said. “That’s all you need to know.”
He had a feeling he was gone.
“I have a question,” Angelica said. “Tell us a normal day in the life of Dominic, and then we’ll tell you ours.”
He almost snorted. “We’ll compare our traumatic childhoods and see which is worse?”
“It will give us ideas on what the other might be feeling,” she said.
“Okay, I’ll start,” he said. “I grew up an only child with an aunt who didn’t give a fuck about me.”This text is © NôvelDrama/.Org.
“Were you able to leave the house at all?” Hope asked.
“Yeah. I had school every day. I played football and baseball, so I did some traveling.”
“It sounded like you had a lot of freedom.”
“Yeah, I guess. My aunt didn’t care what I did if I stayed out of trouble.”
“Did you ever leave the state?” Angelica asked.
He laughed. “Yeah.”
Faith sighed. “I never left the house after eighth grade. Before that, I went to a strict Catholic school that was horrible. I wasn’t allowed to have friends, not even my sisters. I haven’t been to the back garden of this house, but I got to look at it from my bedroom window.”
He couldn’t believe their lives had been that bad. “At least you had a mother that loved you.”
“We weren’t allowed to spend any time together. We could see her when Father had dinner parties, but he was horrible to her and ignored us until he dismissed us,” Hope said.
“We heard her crying out when we passed by her door for whatever reason. We always had a guard with us, so we were unable to do anything to help her,” Angelica said.
“Cry out?” he asked. “Why?”
“Yeah, when Father was beating or raping her.”
Fuck, it felt like someone smacked him. How could his father treat such a small woman like that? He was learning more and more about his father, and none of it was good. He had hated him before, but that quickly turned to pure, deep loathing.