Dirty Little Secrets

12.

KINGSLEY'S POV

The engine of my car screamed as I tore through the wet streets of New York, my heart slamming against my ribs with a violence that made it hard to breathe. The red flashing light of the security alert on my phone sat on the passenger seat, a glowing beacon of pure terror. My brutal argument with Summer in the alleyway was completely wiped from my mind, replaced by a suffocating dread.

All that I could think of was my mother.

The moment the car screeched to a halt in the driveway, I threw the door open and sprinted up the steps, bursting through the front door of our apartment.

"Mom!" I roared, my voice echoing off the high ceilings of the foyer. "Mom! Where are you?!"

I threw my wet jacket onto the floor, my eyes wildly scanning the pristine, quiet hallway. "Mom!"

"Whoa, chill out, bro! Stop screaming like the house is on fire!"

I rounded the corner into the kitchen and nearly collided with a familiar, lanky frame. It was Felix. He was standing there with a dishtowel slung over his shoulder, looking completely carefree and out of place given the sirens going off in my head.

"Felix?" I gasped, grabbing him by the shoulders. "What the hell are you doing here? Why did the security alarm go off?!"

Felix raised his hands in a calming gesture. "Calm down, man. Your mom accidentally tripped the panic button under the counter while we were moving some stuff. I came over to help her out with some chores. You know how she is—she called me complaining about the heavy groceries, and I couldn't just leave her hanging."

I let out a shaky breath, but the knot in my stomach didn't untie. My mother absolutely adored Felix; she saw him as her own son, always praising his loud, energetic nature as the perfect antidote to my quiet shell.

"Where is she?" I demanded, pushing past him.

"In the living room," Felix said, his easygoing smile faltering slightly as he noticed the raw panic still painted across my face. "Seriously, Kingsley, it was just a false alarm. She is fine."

We both got into the living room, our footsteps muffled by the thick rugs. The space was dimly lit, the heavy curtains drawn tight against the rain outside. Immediately I saw my mother, I gave her a big hug and loaded her with tons of questions.

"Mom! Thank God," I breathed, wrapping my arms tightly around her trembling shoulders. I pulled back, holding her at arm's length, my eyes scanning her pale face. "Are you hurt? Did something happen? Why did you trip the alarm? Are you okay?"

She didn't answer me. Her body was completely rigid under my touch, her eyes wide and fixed on a point directly behind me. A cold sweat broke out across my neck.

I slowly followed her gaze and I saw him—the man from the club, Mr. Robert: the calculative monster.

Sitting elegantly on our plush sofa, swirling a glass of amber liquid as if he owned the place. He had shed his wet overcoat, sitting there in his pristine designer suit, a chilling, dominant smirk plastered on his face.

I was so dumbfounded and could fathom why he was here.

My brain completely short-circuited. The world tilted on its axis. I looked at the contract-wielding psychopath from the club, then back to my mother’s terrified face. "You..." I choked out, my voice dropping an octave as pure, unadulterated rage began to eclipse my confusion. "Why the hell are you here? How did you get into my house?!"

There was a suffocating, lethal silence that followed. There was a staring competition between Mr. Robert and my mother. My mother's breath was coming in ragged, shallow gasps, her jaw locked as she stared him down with a mixture of profound hatred and deeply buried fear.

"Why is my mother afraid of him?" I thought.

Mr. Robert merely matched her gaze with an amused, superior glint in his eyes, completely unfazed by the hostility vibrating through the room.

I stepped between them, breaking the line of sight, my fists clenching so hard my nails bit into my palms. "I asked you a question! What are you doing in our home?!"

The man just told him, "Ask your mother." He took a slow, deliberate sip of his drink, his deep, smooth voice dripping with patronizing arrogance. "She knows exactly why I'm here, Kingsley."

Hearing my name roll off his disgusting tongue sent me entirely over the edge. Outraged, I grabbed him by his crisp lapels, ripping him forcefully off the sofa. I slammed him back against the nearest wall, a framed painting rattling violently against the drywall.

"Kingsley, wait! Stop!" Felix yelled from behind me, but I didn't care. I was blind with fury.

I leaned in close, my breathing heavy against his face, and warned him, "Listen to me, you psychotic bastard," I growled, the threat tearing from the darkest depths of my throat. "If you ever come near my mother again, or if you ever put your filthy hands near Summer Walker, I swear to God I will skin you alive. I will destroy everything you have."

Mr. Robert didn't panic. He didn't even try to break my grip. Instead, he just smiled, a low, twisted chuckle vibrating against my hands. He looked into my eyes, seeing the reckless, impulsive fire burning within me, and said, "Like father, like son temper."

The words landed like a physical blow to my chest, completely draining the strength from my legs. My hands slipped from his jacket. Like father, like son. No. No, it couldn't mean what I thought it meant. My mind raced back to the contract, to the way he had studied me in the club, to the chilling familiarity in his eyes. The room began to spin violently, a sickening realization blooming in my chest.

My knees buckled. Felix helped me to regain my posture, catching me firmly by the arm before I could crash onto the hardwood floor. "Kingsley, I got you. Breathe, man, breathe," Felix muttered, his voice tight with panic as he held me steady.

Mr. Robert slowly adjusted his tie, smoothing out the wrinkles my grip had left behind, looking thoroughly entertained by my collapse.

"Get out!" my mother screamed, her voice cracking with a raw, agonizing power that shook the entire room. She pointed a trembling finger toward the front door, tears finally spilling over her eyelids. "Get out of my house, Robert! Leave us alone! Get out!"

Mr. Robert sighed, checking his silver watch with an air of casual indifference. He picked up his coat from the chair, turning back to face her before stepping into the foyer.

"I'm going, my dear," he murmured, casting a sickeningly sweet glance over his shoulder. "But I must say... years apart haven't dulled your edge. You still look absolutely beautiful, Eleanor."

With a final, mocking nod toward me, he turned and strolled out, the heavy front door clicking shut behind him.

The silence that followed was suffocating. I stood there, leaning heavily on Felix, my mind screaming with a thousand questions I didn't know how to ask. "Mom..." I whispered, turning my head toward her. "Mom, what did he mean? Who is—"

Before the words could fully leave my mouth, her eyes rolled back into her head, and her body went entirely limp, collapsing heavily onto the floor.

"Mom!" I shrieked, tearing away from Felix and diving to her side, the world dissolving into complete and utter chaos.