Alexander

 

 

 

“Alexander, let’s talk.” My mother leaned against my desk as I entered my office.

I swallowed, unsure if she’d found out. When we left Edgar’s place yesterday, I made Edgar and Mrs. Bechmann swear they wouldn’t say a word about me buying Henrik Payne’s condo for Aria, not even to Evaleen. They had promised but I didn’t know them like I knew Aria. I had to believe if Aria trusted them, then I could, too.

“What is this about, Mother? I have somewhere I need to be.” I walked past her as if my mother’s presence wasn’t causing my blood pressure to skyrocket.

When I changed the locks and security access for Bradley, I was tempted to exclude my mother from accessing my home. But Aria mentioned that it would be too obvious if I did that. That it might cause my mother to do anything necessary to get to me, and possibly get rid of Aria.

“Has Ms. Dixon finished her masterpiece yet?” My mother’s lips curled and yet through sheer medical intervention, no wrinkles appeared on her face.

I turned over some papers on my desk, feigning a search for something to gaze at other than my mother’s bitter eyes.

“No.” My blunt answer was anything but satisfying to her as I knew it would be.

She sighed tempting me enough to look up. My mother’s eyes bore into mine but something in her stare altered. If I wasn’t mistaken, it appeared to be uncertainty. Of course, knowing my mother, she might pretend to be unsure to trick me. That seemed like a more plausible excuse.

“She sure is taking her time. How long has it been now? A month and a half? I know artists that would take half that time to paint an entire room, not just one wall,” she said as she gracefully lowered herself into the chair opposite me.

I was used to my mother’s cutting comments. She prided herself on slicing people to their core just by a few calculated words. But today, something about them rankled me the wrong way. I knew she was feeding me crumbs of doubt for Aria until I was so full I would be too tired to challenge the words that left her mouth.

But that was the old me. Before I knew the achingly beautiful, highly talented, and strongest woman in my life, both past and present. Aria made me realize my mother’s vile anger disguised as critiques were only words, as sharp as a puff of air.

“I guess that’s what makes Aria so much better than your artist friends. Talent takes time. Only a hack would rush it.”

Her eyes flared and for a moment I thought she would stand, challenge me with her body, but I was wrong. My mother, even with as many spies as she had in her pocket and rooms she had bugged, still didn’t realize that the couple of months I had known Aria changed me. Even if my mother made sure my worst nightmare happened—that she would be right and Aria would only be using me for my money—I could never go back to her control.

I needed to make my mother see that she held no power over me anymore.

She believed me weak and easily manipulated. At one time I was, but not anymore.

“I do admit the woman does have talent. That’s why I went back over the rental agreement and was surprised, as were you, to find out the building was in your name. I wanted Ms. Dixon to paint for you.” Her syrupy smile appeared more tart than sweet.

I rolled my eyes. “Do you honestly expect me to believe you anymore, Mother? You have lied to me since I was a child. Sheltered me for years to the point I had anxiety when I went outside in public during the day—”

My mother cut me off, finally standing to beat back my words. “I did that to protect you, Alexander.”

I leaned forward, pressing my fingers into the wood of my desk until I couldn’t feel them anymore. “From what? What exactly were you . . . are you protecting me from? From the paparazzi or some gold diggers? Why don’t you let me worry about that now? I’m a grown man.”

“You don’t understand, Alexander. There is so much more to all this than money. Fine. You want money, take it. Take everything, but understand I did this because you are my son and I won’t let anyone take my offspring from me. Even a fair-haired artist.”

I stared at the woman who gave birth to me. She finally told me something that remotely felt like love. In her sick mind, what she did was for affection, for her family. I hadn’t felt her tenderness for twenty years. Perhaps by standing up to her she finally admitted to having any feeling for me.

But it’s too late.

“Unfortunately, Mom, I will always be your son. Not even Aria can break that link,” I said as I straightened my back and flexed my fingers, running them through my hair.

“This is all your father’s fault. If he hadn’t gotten himself killed, we would be so happy.” My mother turned her head as she wrapped her arms around herself.

To my surprise her hand lifted and swiped a tear from her cheek. How could she be upset by my father’s death? She never cried over his plane going down. I even caught her smiling on the phone with the police as they discussed the details of his death. She pretended she was yawning but I knew a smile when I saw one.

“You hated Father.”

Her head turned back to me as a whisper of a grin curled her lips. “If you only knew, Alexander. Then maybe you would understand. Which is why I came to visit you today.”

Frustration, and pain so old it felt like a dull knife lazily sawing at my skin, boiled as I shook my head to try to fling it away. “Why did you come then? Just tell me so I can make my meeting.”

I hadn’t lied to her about that. I was about to leave with Aria—who was hiding out in my bedroom working on the mural. We were meeting Henrik Payne to pick up the keycard to his old condo. He had agreed to a quick closing and Henrik agreed to let Aria stay there until the sale was finalized in a few weeks.

“The man you know as your father, Zachery Hawthorne. The one that died in the plane crash twenty years ago was not your actual father. Your real father was his brother, August Hawthorne. He died in a car crash six months before you were born.”

Whatever bitterness I had for my mother drained away to something much worse—emptiness. I felt hollow and my throat tightened as I tried to speak, to cry out, but nothing came. I stood, watching as my mother’s tears dried and she composed herself.

“He was the man I loved, Alexander, you have to believe me. Yes, I may have lied to you over the years, but I am telling you the truth now. Even today, I still miss August. He was everything Zachery wasn’t. He was charismatic,” she explained as she stepped closer to me, “and intelligent, and so talented. Do you know you get your love of art from him?”

She reached over and placed her hand on my arm. It felt strange and normally I stiffened or pulled away from her touch, but my soul needed to feel her. And I suspected she needed my warmth, too.

I struggled to control my emotions, to process what she told me as I asked her what I needed to know, “Why haven’t you told me before? I deserved to know.”

“There were so many times I wanted to tell you everything. Your father, your real father, discovered something. Something that very powerful men in this country would never want the public to know.” She sighed and gestured to the chairs for us to sit.

Once we were seated she continued, “One of the powerful men was his father and later, his brother. Their hands were dipping into political pockets, criminal elements, and terrorist organizations. They took their power as a free pass to do anything they wanted. They were nothing more than white-collar criminals but more elite. A powerful CEO may go to jail, take the fall once caught after years of debauchery, rape, and stealing, but twenty others would continue in his place.”

Her jaw tightened as her face flushed. “August threatened to go to the CIA and the press. To expose their criminal activity. You know what his father, your grandfather, did?”

“No.” My voice quiet as the heavy weight of her words sunk in.

“He had August killed. The police said it was an accident. A drunk driver that drove away from the scene but that drunk driver managed to get out of his car, moved with perfect gait, and reached into your father’s car to make sure he was dead.”

I shook my head. “But how would you know that?”

“Because my sister, Bradley’s mother, was out for an early evening walk with Bradley who was only a year old at the time. She saw the crash and started to run off to get help but looked back just as she turned the corner to see what that driver did. I promised her, as she feared for her safety and the safety of her son, that I would keep it a secret.”

I rubbed my forehead and sat back in my chair. “My God, was that why you hired Bradley?”

She nodded. “His mother told him a long time ago. He wanted to make sure you were safe. Especially after he heard what happened to your sister.”

My eyes widened. “Sister? I don’t have a sister.”

For the first time in almost twenty years, my mother’s eyes softened. Her whole body relaxed as a tear trailed down her cheek. She reached up and cupped my face with her hands. “You do. They took her from me after your birth. I thought she died during birth but she lived. It was your grandfather’s way of threatening me. That he had the power to take everyone I loved away whenever he wanted. Why do you think I kept you hidden for so long?”

“We were twins?”

The slight nod from my mother had my world spinning. The only thing I could think of doing was leaving. So, I did. I left my mother and went to get Aria. I needed time to process everything. But more importantly, I needed time to find out if what my mother said was true or just another evil trick.

I feared that this time it was no trick.