Chapter 3
Lucas
Pulling up to my father's fifty million dollar mansion, I'm reminded just how different I am from the rest of the family.
The sprawling stone and glass building was beautifully integrated into the gently slopping hill at the far end, giving it a natural look and blending it into the lush green surroundings nearly seamlessly.
An unbroken view of Caldwell Hope stretched out in the valley below in all its glory. Blue-tipped mountains seemed to cradle the property and framed the house in a way that would make postcards jealous.
This was a castle fit for a King who liked to watch over his kingdom.
I slowed my bike as I crested the driveway and made my way toward the garage and main entrance. There was no front yard. Instead there was a massive man-made pond and waterfall. The early afternoon was cloudy enough that the accent lighting which ran up each pillar was visible in the shimmering water before it, making the already huge house look much bigger.
If you could hire God for architecture side work this was what he'd build.
I killed the engine and sighed at the picturesque tranquility of it all. Yeah, it was pretty. All of it was super impressive...in a fucking useless and selfish way.
So much money wasted that could've been put to better use.
Of course, I didn't think that way when Molly and I were lovestruck kids and I was trying to impress her. That was a lifetime ago when everything made sense. Seventeen years old and we had it all figured out.
We were going to be together forever.
Forever wasn't as long as it used to be...
No matter how far I ran, thoughts of Molly were always just a heartbeat away. I clenched my jaw at the familiar pain. Seeing her today was going to fuck with me for a long time.
I hadn’t been here a full day yet and I already wish I'd never come back.
“Greetings, Master King,” the young valet called out from the opening garage door and rushed out to meet me. My father's extensive classic car collection glistened against the polished white floors and overhead lights. It was less a garage and more of a showroom.
I snorted out a chuckle. Here I was, a billionaire heir, and the only vehicle I owned at the moment was a motorcycle.
“Hey, kid. You got an extra shirt?” I laid my jacket over the bike's seat and stretched out the road soreness. It was too warm for thick leather when I wasn't riding.
“I don't think so, but I can have someone pick one up for you.”
“It's cool. Don't worry about it.” I checked my phone. I was only about two hours late for lunch. Not bad for me.
What the fuck happened to my shirt? At some point last night I lost it, but when?
“Uh, sir?” The apprehension in the way the valet looked at my bike was clear as day. His job was to park and maintain cars. He probably had no idea what to do with my beat up motorcycle. It didn't help that I'd parked it in the dead middle of the driveway, blocking the easiest path into one of the garage bays.
“Leave it.” I shrugged off his concern, spotting my brother Richard, who'd just stepped out the front door on his phone. I walked toward the inevitable argument. “I won't be staying long.”
Richard hung up the phone as I ascended the final steps to the front door landing. We stood there for a long moment, sizing each other up. Even in the growing heat of late spring, Richard was immaculately manicured in his expensive three-piece suit.
“You're late,” he said, behind thick sunglasses. He crossed his arms disapprovingly and flashed an expression that said he wasn't impressed. Richard was tall, clean shaven and had a pretentious side-fade and short shock-top hairstyle that was all the rage these days.
He looked like someone smashed together the covers of GQ and Forbes magazines.
“That depends on your perspective.” My posture stiffened, chest out, shoulders rolled back. He might've been able to make lawyers and other CEOs piss themselves, but he'd never been able to intimidate me. “I got here exactly when I wanted to.”
We both had the same color hair and eyes, but other than that we couldn't be any more different. He was taller than me, but I was more muscular. If it ever came down to it, I’d take him apart in a real fight.
“You expect the world to adjust itself to your every whim.”
“I don't expect a damn thing from anyone.” I shrugged. “I just do what I want.”
“They say that every seven years each cell in your body has been replaced. You're an entirely new person. So why is it that I'm still talking to a seventeen year old boy who still can't handle a shred of responsibility like arriving somewhere on time.”
My brother was such a judgmental prick. He'd made it perfectly clear that I was wrong for doing my own thing. I didn't want college or grad school, I wanted music. I didn't want to be groomed to fall in line with the family business like some good little duckling. I wanted to tour with my band.
“Spare me your fortune cookie wisdom. Ten years later you're still a dick, Dick.” It'd been at least that long since we had an actual conversation, but from the look on his face I could tell he still didn't like the nickname. “Growing up doesn't mean putting on an overpriced suit and firing people.”
“This is coming from a guy who doesn't even have a shirt. You lose it in a fight or a card game?”
“Dunno. Last night was pretty hazy. Whatever happened, I'm sure it was a hell of a good time.” When given the option, it was impossible for me not to try and rile him up. There was brotherly love, but this was more like brotherly hate. “It's called fun; you should give it a shot some time.”
“Dad's not going to be around forever. Some day you're going to have to man up and make something of yourself.”
“What do you call two number one hits then?” Nothing I ever did was good enough for Richard. Success was only measured on his terms.
“Where's your band now?”
“Fuck you. You self righteous prick.” My fists balled up out of habit. It was no secret that the band dumped me after a few world tours. Apparently I was too much of a rock star for them to handle.
Inevitably some drunken redneck would call me out at a bar and get put on his ass. What was so wrong with that?
“What’s all this about us getting written out of the will?” I relaxed my hands. I wasn't going to pick a fight with him, not yet anyway, and definitely not here. Dad asked me to come home immediately, so I did. I only got the voicemail from the lawyer last night when I was drunk and I managed to erase it by accident.
I was going into all this more or less blind.
“We don't start and stop at your request, little brother.” He shoved the door open for me. “Go find out for yourself.”
Fine by me.
I brushed past him and went inside. The sooner I could get out of here the better.
The scent of cleaners and hardwood filled my nose and triggered my nostalgia. I immediately thought of the one time I snuck Molly into the house when she was supposed to be at her friend's sleepover. That was well before we fooled around for the first time. We stayed up most of the night talking about the places we'd go together once we turned eighteen.
The butler told me that Dad had had the first floor reading room retrofitted into his new master bedroom. That struck me as odd. It was smaller than any of the actual first floor bedrooms and was the farthest away from the kitchen. I knew he was sick, but why he'd choose a room without a bathroom or even a closet was anyone's guess.
I ducked into each of the empty bedrooms I passed until I found a silk button down shirt in one of the closets. It was a little tight, but it'd do fine. I didn't want to see my father looking like a complete scrub. Dad and I didn't always see eye to eye, but I respected the man and I knew he loved me.
I walked through the foyer, the kitchen and the family room. The house hadn't changed much from how I remembered it. The ebony Steinway piano had the same high gloss shine and was lit in a way that made the entertaining room glow. Mom desperately tried to get Richard and I to play, but we just weren’t having it.
Molly played though. Holy hell could she play...
Whenever she came over the whole family would stop whatever they were doing and listen to a few songs. I could still see her fingers gingerly wandering up and down those ivory keys like it was yesterday. I'd rarely ever seen my mother smile so brightly with pride.
Everyone loved Molly.
I shook the image from my head and forced myself from the room. I had to get out of there before the damn memories ate me alive.
“Ah, shit,” I muttered under my breath, entering Dad's new bedroom.
It was the IV stand and the EKG machine I saw first, then I was hit with the scent of lemon pledge and a concoction of chemicals that I'd never be able to name. A nurse stood next to his new deluxe hospital-style bed and marked down his vitals on a clipboard.
All of the new sensory information smashed together creating a gray sludge in my head. None of it made any sense. The room and the experience of coming home was more or less familiar, but completely alien at the same time. It was like when a character was suddenly replaced by a different actor on your favorite TV show.
I knew it was bad, but I didn't know it was this bad.
“Lucas, come on in.” Dad was bare to the waist and looking tired. He usually kept a figure whose jolliness rivaled Santa Clause and now… Well he was thinner than I'd ever seen him, and it scared the hell out of me.
“Hey, Dad.” I slowly stepped into the room; careful not to knock any wires loose. The nurse flashed me a respectful smile as she walked past. No doubt to give us a moment to ourselves. “How're you feeling?”
“With both hands.” He smiled, slowly pushing himself off the bed. For being an industry giant he was always surprisingly quick with a few bad Dad jokes. He put a shirt on, then clasped his hands over my shoulders and looked me over as if seeing me for the first time in a decade.
Dad and I weren't super close, but we still talked occasionally. After Mom died we all stopped doing the holiday get-togethers. It was amazing how much she held the family together.
There was never any reason to come home anymore, but I'd still see Dad a few times a year whenever we both happened to be in the same cities. He'd usually take me out to dinner and tell me about some new breakthrough in medicine or technology his company was working on.
“How have your jokes gotten worse over the years, Dad?”
“Practice, my boy.” He patted my shoulder. “If it's worth doing once, it's worth doing—”
“A thousand times.” I smiled cutting him off. He'd probably told me that around a thousand times too. It used to annoy the crap out of me, but this time I was glad to hear him say it. It made this whole experience feel more normal.
“It's good to see you, Lucas.” He hugged me and I hated how far my arms were able to wrap around him.
“You too, Dad.” My voice broke off at the end. My eyes started to water like I’d been punched in the nose. Again.
Shit. I wasn't prepared for any of this. I thought I was coming back to hear that he was getting remarried or something. I should've known better. Mom was the only one for him. I'd never seen him with any other women after she died.
King men only ever fall in love once, and when we do, we fall hard.
The only exception to that was Richard. He’d never fallen in love, at least not to my knowledge. I wasn’t even sure the corporate robot knew how to spell the word love.
We broke apart when the nurse came back in with a tray of steaming food. Dad made his way to the wall of windows, dragging the wheeled IV stand behind him like he was leading a child, then put a hand on the glass.
It was only then that I realized why it was this room instead of any of the others. From here he could see all of Caldwell Hope.
With his factories and his charity work; a lot of families depended on him. It was more than just that though, he put this place on the map and had the biggest hand in its growth. It was obvious that he cared a great deal about the people here.
He still thought of it as his city.
He was their protector.
“How bad is it?” I asked the nurse. She hesitated, drew in a deep breath, considered her words, then just frowned. Dad didn't bother to turn back around.
Jesus... my stomach twisted. I had spent so much of my life actively trying not to give a damn about anything and all that training was undone in but a few moments of tense silence.
I was really worried.
Richard walked in a moment later. All the elitism and disapproval he'd thrown my way earlier was gone. There was only an uncharacteristic graveness in his features, which bordered on genuine sadness. Then he looked at me, “It's bad.”