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“Then send it to fucking legal for review!”
“Yes, sir.”
New waves of frustration not only lead to my jaw throbbing but me barking, “I cannot believe you never told me my father had an affair!”
“I cannot speak on the subject.”
“That he cheated on my mother!”
“I cannot speak on the subject.”
“She was supposed to be your friend too! How could you let him get away with it?!”
Clark’s mouth twitches in what appears to be agony, yet he repeats, “I cannot speak on the subject.”
“How could you let him hide a fucking child from her?!”
“I cannot speak on the subject.”
“From me?!”
Finally, his stoic demeanor along with the repeated robotic phrasing cracks, “Weston, I am begging you on behalf of them both…on behalf of this family…to let them as well as this subject lie in peace.”
“No.” The viciousness of my bite buttons his lips. “Now, get that document to Hawthorne by morning or me your resignation letter.”
Without another word, he politely moves past me, hopefully to retrieve the former rather than write the latter.
Because its existence has to be the only reason, he would’ve kept this from me.
That anyone would’ve kept this from me.
Could’ve.
But why?
Why have no record of it in any document, anywhere?
Not even a secret file?
Why live under an alias?
Why cheat to fucking begin with?!
Why wasn’t my mother enough?!
Why weren’t we enough?!
Why did he need a second family before he could appreciate his fucking first?!
Roars rip from my chest as I storm into the office right after the last of the materials has been left behind.
I guide myself around the seemingly endless collection of belongings from Simmons family, gawking at the boxes.
Glaring at the possibilities that may be found inside.
The hidden truths.
The hidden lies.
