Stepbrother Billionaire(33)

I’m jerked out of slumber the next morning by the sound of screaming voices. Prying open my eyes, I notice two things straightaway. First, I am massively hungover, having eaten next to nothing yesterday and had half a bottle of vodka to drink. Second, I’m still lying beside the sleeping Emerson, despite the fact that it’s Monday morning and school is set to start in a mere twenty minutes.

But before I can worry about my attendance record, the crash of shattering glass catches my ear from downstairs. Two hysterical voices rage at each other as other objects go hurtling around the ground floor. Emerson’s eyes fly open at the sound of the unfolding chaos, and we turn to look at each other, at a loss. I recognize Dad and Deb’s voices at once, but I’ve never heard either of them so irate.

“Funneling my money to that lowlife junkie!” my dad bellows, as something heavy topples over.

“Your money?” Deb cries shrilly, “You mean your parents’ money, don’t you?”

“Don’t start with that class warfare bullshit—”

“I don’t have to! They already did. You think I didn’t see how they looked at me yesterday? You’d think I was wearing a g-string and pasties—”

“Well, you weren’t wearing much else!”

Something else smashes into a thousand pieces, and I grab for Emerson’s hand, panicked.

“Don’t try and change the goddamn subject,” my dad snarls. “You’ve been stealing from me for your scumbag ex and your loser drug baby!”

Emerson’s fingers tighten around mine, his body rippling with fury.

“My son is not a loser!” Deb weeps, charging up the stairs, “And he’s not staying here in this house for another second!”

The entire world grinds to a standstill as Emerson’s bedroom door flies open. Deb appears in the doorway, thick rivulets of mascara coursing down her cheeks. Emerson and I stare up at her, entwined in his bed, as my red-faced father appears on the top of the stairs. The four of us are frozen in a surreal tableau, and for a second I hope against all hope that this is just another terrible dream

But in the next moment, reality floods back in.

“What the f*ck is this?” Deb shrieks, falling back against the door in horror.

“We were just—We—” I stammer, looking helplessly at Emerson.

“Get away of my daughter, you piece of shit!” my dad roars, charging into the bedroom. He grabs me by my arm and wrenches me brutally out of bed.

“Dad, you’re hurting me,” I gasp, trying and failing to break free from his grip.

“Don’t touch her,” Emerson shouts, leaping to his feet and shoving my father away from me. He shields me from my dad’s wrath with his solid body, but my dad lunges for me all the same. The smell of booze seeping off of him turns my stomach.

“Are you drunk?” I gasp, staring at my father.

But his swaying stance and bloodshot eyes answer my question. I whip around toward Deb and see that she, too, is standing unsteadily, unable to focus on a single point for more than a second. It’s not even nine o’clock, and they’re both wasted.

“Jesus Christ, Mom,” Emerson growls, staring at his mother in disbelief. “Again?”

“Don’t you judge me,” Deb snaps, shaking her mess of wilted curls. “If you knew the sort of night I had…This man is a monster.”

“I’m a monster?” my dad returns, whirling unsteadily toward her, “You’re the lying, thieving whore—”

“Emerson, no!” I screech, as he cocks back his fist and slams it against my father’s jaw.

Dad goes reeling through the open doorway, and Emerson leaps after him. Deb collapses into a teary puddle as Emerson and Dad brawl on the landing. I rush toward them, ready to throw myself into the fray. But a loose punch from Dad hits me square in the stomach, knocking me back against the wall. Emerson snaps his face toward me, too worried about my wellbeing to focus on my dad. But in the moment of his distraction, Dad strikes back—sending a cracking blow railing against Emerson’s high cheekbone. A sickening crunch rings out through the house.

A scream rips out of my throat as Emerson stumbles against the second story railing. My dad tries to grab him by the front of his suit, but misses. In a burst of rage, Emerson grabs hold of my dad and slams him against the bannister, ready to throw him off the landing.

“Stop it! Emerson, stop!” I scream.

Finally, I seem to get through to him. With gritted teeth, he lowers my dad away from the edge, tossing him roughly onto the floor. He raises his blue eyes to mine, and my heart shatters as I see the furious tears streaming down his face. Stepping over my dad’s drunken, prostrate form, Emerson marches into his room and snatches his mother up by the arm. She can barely stand, beside herself with wasted emotion. Emerson swings her arm over his shoulders and all but drags her away, carrying her dead weight down the stairs.

“Wait,” I call out, my voice a strangled cry, “Emerson, where are you going?”

But he doesn’t answer me. He simply makes his way to the front door. I pull myself off the ground and race after him, grabbing for the back of his suit.

“Emerson,” I plead, clutching the bannister as I reach the final stair. “Stop. You can’t go. Not now.”