Chapter Two-Rex
1624 Words
Rex Malachi Sullivan was a household name.
Not the kind of name people simply recognized.
The kind of name people lowered their voices when they said.
In the business world, the Sullivan name carried weight.
Power.
Respect.
Fear.
Rex had built an empire with his own hands, starting with nothing.
He had been an orphan.
No wealthy parents waiting for him.
No family inheritance.
No powerful surname to open doors.
Nothing.
Just ambition, intelligence, and an almost frightening determination to survive.
By thirty-four, Rex owned businesses across multiple industries.
Hotels.
Real estate.
Technology.
Finance.
Luxury properties.
His face appeared on business magazines. His name appeared on the Forbes list. Men twice his age asked for his advice.
People called him ruthless.
Cold.
Impossible to negotiate with.
An ultimate alpha.
And perhaps they were right.
Rex was an alpha in every sense of the word.
Tall.
Powerfully built.
Commanding.
His presence alone could silence a room.
People respected him.
People feared him.
And strangely enough, people loved him too.
But there was one person in the entire world who didn’t care about his empire.
One person who didn’t care how much money he had.
One person who didn’t know that his father was considered one of the most powerful men in the country.
His son.
Kai.
Rex closed the file in front of him.
It was nearly midnight.
His office was quiet, the city glittering beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows.
Another night.
Another twelve hours buried in work.
Another night where he had successfully avoided going home early.
He leaned back in his chair and rubbed his face.
Five years.
It had been five years.
Five years since Kai had been born.
Five years since Rex had lost the woman he loved.
Five years since his entire world had changed in a single day.
Rex closed his eyes.
And there she was.
His wife.
Her smile.
Her voice.
The way she had looked at him during her pregnancy.
The way she had held his hand.
The way she had whispered that she couldn’t wait to meet their son.
Rex swallowed hard.
He could still remember the hospital.
The smell.
The lights.
The sound of machines.
The doctors moving quickly.
And then—
Silence.
His wife had died giving birth to Kai.
Rex had never recovered.
He had tried.
God knew he had tried.
But grief wasn’t something you simply conquered.
It lived inside you.
Some days quietly.
Some days violently.
And every time Rex looked at Kai, he saw her.
That was the part nobody understood.
His son had her eyes.
Her mouth.
Sometimes even the way he tilted his head reminded Rex of her.
Kai hadn’t done anything wrong.
He was a child.
An innocent child.
But Rex’s heart had never learned how to separate his son from the worst day of his life.
And that made him hate himself.
Because he loved Kai.
He knew he did.
He had never doubted that.
But love wasn’t always enough when grief stood between you and the person you were supposed to love.
Rex stared at the photograph sitting on his desk.
It was one of the few pictures he had of his wife.
He picked it up carefully.
“You’d know what to do.”
His voice was barely a whisper.
The photograph didn’t answer.
Of course it didn’t.
Rex gave a humorless laugh.
“You always knew what to do.”
He placed the photograph down.
Then his gaze moved toward the clock.
12:17 a.m.
Kai would be asleep.
He should go home.
He should check on him.
He should—
Rex stopped himself.
He always did that.
He always thought about going home.
And then he found another reason not to.
A meeting.
A contract.
A business call.
An acquisition.
Anything.
Work was easier.
Business was simple.
Numbers didn’t cry.
Contracts didn’t ask why their father didn’t hug them.
Investments didn’t look at him with innocent eyes.
Children did.
Kai did.
And Rex didn’t know what to do with that.
⸻
The first nanny had lasted three months.
The second lasted six.
The third lasted almost a year.
There had been more after that.
Rex couldn’t even remember all their names anymore.
It wasn’t because he didn’t care.
It was because he kept trying to find someone who could give Kai what he couldn’t.
Someone who would be patient.
Someone who would be warm.
Someone who would tuck him into bed.
Someone who would listen when he had nightmares.
Someone who could give his son the childhood Rex didn’t know how to provide.
But every time Rex came home, Kai would run toward him.
Every time.
Even after everything.
“Papa!”
Rex remembered the first time.
Kai had been two.
He had run across the living room with his little arms stretched out.
Rex had frozen.
He hadn’t known what to do.
The child had looked up at him.
Waiting.
Trusting.
Rex had eventually picked him up.
Kai had wrapped his tiny arms around his neck.
And Rex had felt something crack inside his chest.
Because Kai smelled like his mother.
That was the moment Rex understood how broken he really was.
He had held his son.
And cried silently.
Kai hadn’t understood.
He had simply rested his head against Rex’s shoulder.
Rex had held him tighter.
For one brief moment, he had thought—
I can do this.
But the next morning, he had gone back to work.
And then the next.
And the next.
Five years later, he was still doing the same thing.
⸻
Rex finally stood.
He grabbed his jacket and walked out of the office.
His driver was waiting downstairs.
“Home,” Rex said.
The man nodded.
The drive was quiet.
When Rex arrived at the Sullivan estate, most of the house was dark.
He entered quietly.
The housekeeper looked surprised to see him.
“Sir?”
“Where’s Kai?”
“Asleep.”
Rex nodded.
He started toward the stairs.
Then stopped.
“Did he eat?”
“Yes.”
“Did he take his medicine?”
“Yes.”
“Was he okay?”
The housekeeper smiled softly.
“He asked about you.”
Rex’s chest tightened.
“What did he say?”
“He asked if you were coming home tonight.”
Rex looked away.
“And what did you tell him?”
“That you were working.”
Of course.
Rex nodded.
“Thank you.”
He walked upstairs.
Slowly.
Quietly.
He stopped outside Kai’s bedroom.
His hand hovered over the doorknob.
He hesitated.
Then opened the door.
The room was dim.
Moonlight slipped through the curtains.
Kai was asleep beneath his blanket, one tiny hand curled around a stuffed animal.
Rex stood there.
Just watching.
His son.
His little boy.
Five years old.
Five years of life that Rex could never get back.
Kai stirred.
Rex immediately froze.
The little boy opened his eyes halfway.
“Papa?”
Rex’s heart stopped.
“I’m here.”
Kai blinked sleepily.
“You came home.”
“Yes.”
A tiny smile appeared on Kai’s face.
“Are you staying?”
Rex swallowed.
He had no idea why that question hurt so much.
“Yes.”
Kai smiled.
“Good.”
His eyes closed again.
Rex stood there for a moment.
Then, slowly, he walked toward the bed.
He sat down.
His large hand hovered above Kai’s small head.
He hesitated before finally touching his hair.
Soft.
Warm.
His son.
Rex’s throat tightened.
“I’m sorry.”
Kai was already asleep.
He couldn’t hear him.
But Rex needed to say it anyway.
“I’m sorry I don’t know how to do this.”
His voice broke.
“I’m sorry I don’t know how to be your father.”
He looked at his son.
“I love you.”
The words felt foreign.
Not because they weren’t true.
Because he had never said them aloud.
Rex closed his eyes.
“I love you so much.”
A tear slipped down his cheek.
He wiped it away quickly.
He was Rex Malachi Sullivan.
Men feared him.
Businesses moved when he spoke.
Enemies knew better than to cross him.
He had survived being an orphan.
Built an empire.
Built a life.
But none of that had taught him how to be a father.
None of it had taught him how to look at his son without seeing the woman he had lost.
And that was his greatest failure.
Because Kai wasn’t responsible for his mother’s death.
He was her last gift.
The last piece of her that she had left behind.
Rex knew that.
He had always known it.
But knowing something and being able to live with it were two completely different things.
He looked down at Kai.
“I’ll try.”
His voice was barely audible.
“I don’t know how.”
He gently pulled the blanket higher around his son.
“But I’ll try.”
For the first time in five years, Rex stayed.
He didn’t go back to his office.
He didn’t answer another business call.
He didn’t open another contract.
He simply sat beside his son’s bed.
And watched him sleep.
Maybe tomorrow he would still be a terrible father.
Maybe he would still make mistakes.
Maybe he would still struggle.
But tonight, for the first time, Rex allowed himself to understand something.
He hadn’t lost his wife because Kai was born.
He had lost his wife because sometimes life was cruel.
And Kai hadn’t taken her away.
Kai was the only part of her he had left.
Rex reached down and gently kissed his son’s forehead.
“I’ll learn, little one.”
And for once, Rex Malachi Sullivan believed his own promise.
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