002 THE GIFT
1330 Words
CHAPTER 2: THE GIFT
Alex's legs went numb.
Grandmother Williams stood on stage with a proud smile.
“Emma Williams," the old woman said, her hand moving to rest on Emma's stomach, "is pregnant."
The crowd cheered. Diane rushed forward to embrace her daughter.
*Pregnant? We haven't had s*x in over a year.*
"The father," Grandmother continued, her ancient eyes finding Alex's across the room with surgical precision, "is Ryan Fletcher."
Alex didn't understand. Ryan was the father?
"We will be filing for Emma's divorce from the delivery boy immediately," Grandmother continued, her tone matter-of-fact. "The marriage was always a youthful mistake. But now" she squeezed Emma's hand, "Now Emma is carrying the child of a real man. A successful man. A man worthy of the Williams name and its legacy."
Ryan pulled Emma close, his hand possessive on her lower back. "We've been together for eighteen months," he announced, playing to the crowd. "I wanted to claim her sooner, but Emma asked me to wait."
Eighteen months.
She'd been f*****g Ryan for half their marriage.
"You've been—" Alex's voice came out hoarse, barely above a whisper. "For half our marriage, you've been—"
"Cheating?" Diane laughed, the sound mocking.
"You can't cheat on something that was never real, you stupid boy! Did you actually think Emma loved you?" Her lips curled in disgust. "We let you play house while we found her a proper husband. Someone with a future. Someone who isn't a complete waste of oxygen."
Alex looked at Emma. Waiting for her to say something. Deny it. Show some f*****g remorse.
She stared back and smiled.
"I'm sorry it took so long," Emma said, and she didn't sound sorry at all. Her voice was clear, firm, almost relieved. "But I can't keep living this lie. Ryan is everything I need. Everything you could never be."
"I worked three jobs," Alex muttered. "I did everything you asked. I endured your family's abuse because I thought we were building something together. I stayed faithful and believed in us."
"And you still couldn't afford to give me the life I deserve," Emma interrupted, touching the diamond bracelet on her wrist with obvious pleasure. "Ryan gave me this in one night. What have you given me in three years besides embarrassment?"
His hand found the box in his pocket. The necklace.
*Don't. Jeez. Don't give her another reason to laugh.*
But his hand was already moving, pulling out the box.
"Emma," he whispered and held it out. "I actually… I got you something, for our anniversary."
Conversations paused.
Diane's expression could have frozen hell itself.
Ryan snatched the box from Alex's hand before Emma could touch it.
"Let's see what the devoted husband got you." He held it up, playing to the crowd.
He opened the box with exaggerated care.
The silver phoenix caught the light. Simple and cheap. Nothing compared to Ryan's diamond bracelet.
Ryan's laugh started as a chuckle. Others joined in.
"This?" Ryan held up the necklace between two fingers like it might contaminate him. "You bought your wife this? What is this, gas station jewelry?"
"It's real silver," Alex said quietly. He hated how defensive he sounded. "It's not expensive, but it's from the heart. It's a phoenix, it symbolizes—"
"Forty dollars?" Ryan interrupted, turning to the crowd. "Maybe fifty? Your husband—" he said the word with dripping contempt, "—bought you a fifty-dollar necklace for your anniversary." He gestured to the diamond bracelet on Emma's wrist. "My gift cost more than his entire year's salary."
Laughter rippled through the crowd.
"Give it back," Alex said, his voice hardening. "It's not for you. It's for my wife"
Ryan's expression darkened. He stepped down from the stage, moving into Alex's space. "Wife? Did this piece of trash just call you his wife?"
The slap came so fast Alex didn't see it coming.
Alex hit the floor. His cheek was burning. His vision blurred.
"How dare you," Ryan snarled, standing over him like a conquering general. "You think buying cheap jewelry gives you the right to claim her? Do you know what Emma's lipstick costs? More than your entire wretched existence. If you even got a smear of it on your garbage clothes, you should spend the rest of your miserable life thanking God for the privilege."
Alex pushed himself up on his elbows, his head spinning, blood dripping from his split lip onto the floor.
Emma stood on the stage above him and watched.
"Emma," His voice cracked. "Just tell me the truth… if… you ever love me? Just a little?
Something crossed Emma's face. For one second, her eyes softened. Her lips parted.
Lauren stood in the corner, crying, mouthing words at her sister. Tell him.
Emma's hand lifted slightly, almost reaching him.
Diane stormed forward, her dress rustling, her face purple with rage. "You disgusting parasite! How dare you ruin Emma's special night with your pathetic attempts at relevance! You were always nothing but a charity case, Emma, don't let him manipulate you."
Emma's face went hard again. The moment died.
"I'm sorry," she said quietly. "But that girl who thought love was enough, she grew up. She realized fairy tales don't pay rent. You were always a fairy tale, Alex."
She stepped back into Ryan's arms.
What killed Alex wasn't the anger in her voice.
It was relief.
She looked relieved to get rid of him.
Security," Diane called, and two men in black suits emerged from the edges of the room. "Remove this trash from my property immediately. And burn everything he's left in the house. I don't want his poverty infecting my home any longer."
They grabbed his arms roughly.
"Wait—" Alex struggled weakly, still dizzy from Ryan's blow. "My things—my mother's photos—"
"You mean the trash in the garage?" Ryan smirked, adjusting his cufflinks. "Already on the curb where it belongs. We had the staff handle it this morning. Trash belongs with trash."
The security guards dragged him toward the exit.
Behind him, the party resumed instantly.
Emma's voice rang out, bright and cheerful: "Thank you all for coming! This is truly the happiest day of my life!"
The security guards threw Alex through the front door. He stumbled down the stone steps and landed hard on the lawn, his shoulder screaming in pain.
The massive iron gates of the Williams estate clanged shut behind him.
His stuffs was everywhere. Scattered across the grass like garbage.
His mom's photo lay face-down in the wet grass.
His hands shook as he picked it up.
"I'm sorry, Mom," he whispered to the broken image. "I tried. I really tried."
He sat alone on the grass, surrounded by the wreckage of his life.
His phone buzzed in his pocket.
For a moment, he considered ignoring it. What could possibly matter now? What notification, what bill, what final indignity could make this night any worse?
But his hand moved automatically, pulling out the cracked iPhone 4.
A text from an unknown number glowed in the darkness: Alexander, your father has left you something. This is not a scam. Your life is about to change. - Thomas Wright, Attorney at Law
Alex stared at it.
His father. Richard Kane. The man who abandoned him twenty-three years ago.
Sure, he thought bitterly. Perfect timing.
But something made him type back: If this is real, prove it. Tell me something only he would know.
Three dots appeared immediately.
Then:
Your mother sang you a lullaby. "From ashes we rise, from fire we're born." Your father wrote it the day you were born. He never stopped watching you, Alexander. Tomorrow 9 AM, 412 Oak Street. Everything changes tomorrow.
Alex's hands shook.
Nobody knew that lullaby. His mother never sang it after his father left. He only heard it in dreams.
How did this person know?
Unless his father really had been watching.
Unless this was real.
- Writer
