Page 154 of Discretion at Its Finest

I walked after him, catching him in Killian’s office as he paced the floor, hands pulling at his hair as he shook his head.

“I can’t,” he muttered. “I can’t. I can’t. I can’t. I can’t.”

I could see him preparing to shut down, his mind looking for an exit that didn’t exist, trying to process and hold the last twelve hours in a brain that was fighting against the past.

“Eugene… right here. You’re right here,” I muttered.

He stopped abruptly. “You made her leave us.” His eyes found me, pent-up rage, anger, resentment searing in his gaze.

“Eugene,” I said quietly, “that isn’t what happened.”

“Oh really?” He laughed humorlessly. “Because the way I remember it? One day I had a mom. The next, I didn’t… and when you showed up, you were always there… always. And when you left… she left.”

I shook my head. “I expect you to be angry,” I murmured, stepping closer. “I expect you to be furious, to hate me for every year you spent waiting at that door. For every birthday you thought she forgot, every night you held Brielle because no one else did.”

“She was all I had…” he muttered. “It’s not like my father was ever there for me. Ended up being the man I couldn’t wait to erase. For what he put Brielle through… he should be glad I put him out of his fucking misery.”

My heart pounded faster in my chest. Before I could even think of what to say next, the words spilled out of my mouth. “Your father isn’t dead, Eugene.”

Eugene scoffed, eyes still not reaching mine all the way. “I watched the light in his eyes fade when I killed him. Made sure of it the second go around… he’s gone.”

I let out a breath. “Gregory forged documents.” Eugene’s eyebrows pulled tight, confusion folding into something darker as his gaze found my own. “He faked paternity. He hid both you and Brielle from your mother. He probably kept every letter she wrote when she was able to. He intercepted every attempt she made to get back to you. He made sure she couldn’t reach you. Gave her the choice to stay and endure being trapped in her own home, or never seeing you both again.”

His eyebrows furrowed, the truth settling in a way he didn’t like. “No… No, that doesn’t make sense. My father was a coward. A drunk. A pathetic piece of shit who stole everything our grandparents left for us. He didn’t even have enough control over himself, let alone—”

“He still had the power, the freedom… I didn’t. I was put into hiding. I couldn’t keep your mother, Brielle,yousafe from where I was.”

Eugene’s jaw locked. His breathing spiked. His voice lowered, cold and shaking. “No. She left because she didn’t want us.”

“You don’t believe that.”

“I do.”

“You don’t,” I repeated, stepping closer. “If you did, you wouldn’t still be here. You wanted the truth, you want to know why.”

His eyes snapped to mine, wild, furious, terrified. “You weren’t there,” he seethed. “Shewasn’t fucking therewhen I had to raise my sister. When I had to be the one who took control of everything.”

“I know,” I said softly. “And I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

He shook his head. “Stop. Stop talking like you care.”

“I do care.”

“You can’t,” he snapped, voice breaking. “You weren’t there.” And there it was: the fracture beneath the anger. The abandoned child he still was beneath the soldier. “You weren’t there,” he said again, quieter, but the words shook. “I remember her leaving. I remember her kissing my forehead, our last hug, then her walking out the door. I remember waking up and she was just… gone.”

“It wasn’t an easy choice—”

“STOP SAYING THAT!” he exploded, slamming his fists into the desk so violently the lamp jumped. “Stop turning her into some helpless victim! Stop pretending she didn’t walk out on her own two feet!”

“I’m telling you the truth—”

“I don’t WANT your truth!” he choked out. “I want the mother who stayed. I want the mother who didn’t leave because everything got too hard. I want the woman I needed, and you’re standing here telling me she didn’t choose to be there for me when SHE CHOSE YOU.”

“Eugene—”

“She fucking chose YOU,” he repeated, voice cracking so hard, tears brimmed at his eyes again. “She didn’t choose us. She didn’t stay for us. She—she left for YOU.”

“She was alone,” I said. “She was the only woman in a home closing around her. Gregory would’ve had custody, had control regardless if she stayed or left.”