CHAPTER 198: CHAPTER 198

ALVA

The sound of a car squealing down the road distracts me from my thoughts. I’ve got a lot on my mind lately but no matter how disconcerted it all seems, there’s a common thread; Demi Branson.

A sigh of relief escapes my lips as the message I have been waiting for finally buzzes into my phone. My eyebrows furrow with worry after reading it.

[Confirmed. Retrograde Amnesia]

What the hell? I want to believe it’s a mistake but Dr. Miranda hardly makes one. A bitter frown creases my forehead. Demi has suffered memory loss? What in the world? All this time watching her from the shadows, waiting, moving pieces on a chessboard only for this unprecedented move to get past me? How?

Before I can make sense of the situation and wrap my head around my next move, I get an unexpected call. Shit. I hope he doesn’t blame me for this. With an empty sigh, I answer.

"Where are you?" He barks into the phone. "Where the hell are you?"

Irritated, I plunk down on my sofa, cross my legs and give him another ten seconds to lash out. When his temper cools, I place the phone back on my ear.

"Where else would I be, uncle Marcel? I’m far away from your precious niece, like you ordered me to." Absentmindedly, I squeeze my stress ball tightly. "To what do I owe this pleasure?"

"Don’t get smug with me." I feel his frustration seeping out in his strained breathing. "You made contact with her, didn’t you? You simply couldn’t help yourself and managed to inflict more pain on her life by telling her about her mother’s condition. How could you?"

Demi found out about Camille’s delusion? I certainly had nothing to do with that but knowing uncle Marcel, he’s too biased to believe anything that comes out of my mouth as true. He has always detested me, rejected me despite my blood ties to his precious niece.

My birth, according to him was a sin that should NEVER have happened.

Not like Demi’s. She was always cherished even before Camille conceived her. Me? I am considered a disgusting blot in the family tree not worth mentioning.

Sighing, I shrug off the sting of his persistent contempt towards me. "Now, why would I do that to my dearest half-sister, uncle Marcel?"

"DON’T." He threatens through clenched teeth. The air is still between us for a bit. "DON’T."

"Don’t what? Call you uncle or her, my half-sister?" I can almost hear him growling on the other end of the phone. Sick of the pointless argument that might ensue if I tread this dangerous path, I opt to let it go. Maybe I’ll just accept the blame and see what he has to say. Maybe he knows how Demi came to lose her memory.

"She was bound to find out one way or another..."

"It wasn’t your place to tell!" He barks at me. "You’re not a part of my family even though Camille might have given birth to you. Get that into your thick skull." He heaves a deep breath and chills run down my spine at his next words. "You’re a product of the most horrible night of her life, a night that eventually resulted in her delusional disorder. You represent the darkest period of her life and the fact that you take after that rapist of a father makes you far more disgusting to me."

I grit my teeth. Though it’s nothing I haven’t heard before, it causes a fresh tear in my heart, a sharp pain in my chest.

"None of that was my fault." I reply coldly. "I didn’t choose to come into her life in that manner just like Demi didn’t exactly choose to be the product of a love marriage. Even if I am to blame for our mother’s illness, didn’t I pay the price after I was separated from my real family and given up for adoption?"

"You should have stayed in your lane and let us all be. You should never have gone searching for your biological mother. You should have given up your quest to weasel your way back into our lives."

"That’s not what I’m..."

"I know you moved to Danvarr five years ago. I know you’ve been keeping an eye on my niece." At my stunned silence, he continues. "I’m very sure you’ve found a way to be close to Demi without her knowing your true identity. She’s already been through a lot and you had the guts to shatter the good memory she had of her mother? Do you know the gravity of what you’ve done? I just got a call from her best friend and it appears Demi has suffered a significant memory loss due to the shocking revelation."

I remain mute but that only aggravates him.

"You already knew, didn’t you? You planned everything..."

I didn’t realize my eyes were already starting to blur until I tried to focus on my dying plant in the corner of the room. Quietly, I surge to my feet and jam a hand in my pocket. "Yeah. I did move back to Danvarr. I was curious to see how Camille’s perfect offspring was handling her demise while living in the same city as the perpetrators of the murder."

I cackle as a memory flit across my mind. "I didn’t have to lift a finger to prove Demi was no better than me in causing pain to Camille. Better the unfortunate child of a rapist than to have a marriage alliance with the very family that murdered my mother!"

Just as I thought, that got him to shut up.

"What, uncle Marcel? Cat got your tongue? I Know all the nasty things your precious niece got up to in the guise of trying to avenge our dear mother. Marrying one of those abominable quads, falling in love with a different one, getting pregnant for that family...yuck. I could go on. Yet, you never cease to defend her..."

"Because she’s family!" He thunders.

"And me? What am I?" His silence is very much expected so I continue with a short laugh. "I can’t believe your hatred towards me was greater than your proclaimed love for your niece to the extent that you preferred to let her stay with relatives who bluntly hate her. Did you stop to think that Demi might have escaped years of loneliness if she knew she had a sibling? Don’t you ever wonder that maybe she went on this badly scripted revenge mission out of a deep sense of loss and to fill the empty void in her life? I wonder what she’ll think of you when she eventually learns the WHOLE truth, one after the other!"

"Is that why you told her about Camille?"

"It appears I don’t have to do anything. The truth never stays buried for long no matter how hard we try. It always finds a way to come out in the light."

"Stay the hell away from MY family!" He belts out in anger before hanging up.

I stare at the phone for three seconds long before laughing wearily. I am such an idiot for still feeling pangs of pain each time I speak with uncle Marcel. Why does it still hurt despite how many years have passed and despite knowing exactly what he’s going to say? I should be impervious to his hatred by now.

The rage fizzles away when I reach for my necklace where my mother’s initials are intricately embedded. It usually calms my racing nerves almost as fast as the old photo I used to have of her, before it was ripped to shreds and burnt in front of me.

I continue to pad a thumb over my pendant while images of my mother’s face fill my front lobe. She was such a beautiful woman. I hate that Demi inherited even a sliver of her features, especially the eyes. That has been the hardest part about trying to hate my half-sister.

It constantly feels like hating Camille when all I wanted was a chance to prove to my mother that I can be a ray of sunshine in her life too. Unfortunately, she didn’t live long enough to receive my apology for the pain my conception and birth caused her.

"You never returned any of my letters." I mumble, staring at nothing while stroking my pendant. "Not a single birthday card or phone call came from you, but you died trying to get Demi a birthday present." Another hysteric laugh erupts from my gut. "I really should hate her for snatching you from me, mother. Maybe if you didn’t have her, you would have come back for me. You wouldn’t have given me up for so long."

Blinking away the tears threatening to spill, I tuck the pendant inside my shirt and exhale deeply. "I don’t think I could ever totally hate her, because I can’t afford to hate you. I always wanted her rose-tinted life to experience a few thorns like mine always had, but I never meant for you to die. I wanted a chance to be YOUR child too, Camille."

"Enough!"

The icy whisper of my father’s voice rings from behind me. "That’s enough."

He ambles forward, yanks the pendant out of my shirt and fumes at it.

"DON’T" I warn him with reddened eyes.

With a grunt of disapproval, he lets it go. Years ago, when he traced and found me with my new family, I’d always keel over and cry when he destroyed everything that connected me to my mother. It hurt to see my mother’s photo torn and burnt. Now, I just feel an ache in my chest over his hatred towards her.

"What is it with Camille and her children always spending a good part of their lives pining for her validation, huh? Haven’t you done enough of that? THE WOMAN IS DEAD! Get over yourself and LIVE."

"I AM LIVING."

He squares his broad shoulders and narrows his eyes at me. "I have done my best as your father to give you all the love you need. Still, you continue to beg the Bransons for acceptance."

"I am still a part of their family. Demi is my sister after all."

"HALF-SISTER AND THE DUMBEST DAMSEL I EVER MET IF I DO SAY SO MYSELF" His chest heaves with deep breath as he leers down at me. "I am not putting up with your obsession anymore. You made Mr. Rahl give her that job at the bookstore. You made me bankroll Elizabeth Collin and her daughter for years in the guise of Demi’s inheritance from Camille, just so they take Demi in. That mother and daughter duo don’t even know you are Camille’s child." Frustrated, he paces a bit, scratching his perfectly trimmed beard.

"And when that foolish Demi married into the Rollins family, you forced me to hide all the information and rookie mistakes that could have gotten her caught way earlier in the mansion. I literally manipulated her identity for so long the Rollins family couldn’t peg her as Camille’s daughter early enough. I abused the trust they have in me, all to please you" He grabs at my shoulders. "THAT’S ENOUGH NOW. You have overcompensated as Camille’s unwanted child. You have done more than enough for Demi. Let it go. It’s time to live your life."

When I shrug away from him, he rolls his eyes.

"C’mon, what exactly do you think would happen when Demi discovers your identity? There isn’t going to be a happy reunion. She’ll also hate you, the same way Camille hated you. Demi lacks the spine to go against the grain. Her mother’s enemies have to be her enemies. She’ll hate you..." He swallows hard. "...especially when she realizes you are MY child."

I lock eyes with him. "Yeah, I guess she won’t be able to stand the child of the man who brutally raped her mother."

Angrily, I yank my jean jacket off the sofa and shrug it on.

"I have..."

"Apologized countless times. I know that." I streak a hand through my hair. "Unfortunately, your poor decision that one night will forever cause my life to be an exercise in futility when it comes to being accepted by my maternal family."

"Alva..."

"It’s Raz to you, Mr. Duncan."

"And it’s Dad to you, Alva" He puffs out a breath and edges closer to me, laying a gentle hand on my shoulder. "You’re NOT a secret, not to me. Your mother had no right to name you that."

I shrug noncommittally at him. "Well, that’s the only thing she gave me after birth. Now, she’s dead. I have nothing else of hers. Best believe I’m holding onto my shitty name." I pause by the door and throw him a glance. "By the way, I am a secret to EVERYONE, including you. If I wasn’t, you wouldn’t hide the fact that you have a child from the family you’ve worked with long before I was born."

Before he can defend himself by claiming it’s all for my protection, I slide out of the door into the brightness of the afternoon sun.

This has always been my life. Everyone has a damn near perfect reason why my existence ought to be a secret. I feel like a stain on their perfect lives, and you’d think I’d know better than to pathetically pine for a visible spot in everyone else’s lives. Unfortunately, I am pathetic.

I hate it but I can’t help it.

I am the fool who’s still dogged about proving everyone wrong, especially a dead woman.

Why can’t I just move on and embrace the life my father has carved out for me? Why do I care so much about proving a point to my maternal family that I am every bit as precious as Demi?

These questions live rent-free in my head but nothing changes with every waking day. It’s like I can’t find any other meaning in life except shadowing my half-sibling in a bid to appease our late mother.

Demi. I shouldn’t care that she’s lost her goddamn memory. I shouldn’t be interested in rewriting myself into her life, instead of watching her from the shadows while she mucks up her life and revenge plan over and over again.

My dad’s right. I have done the best I can for her. Maybe it’s time to take a step back, breathe and not hate my life because certain people feel I am not worthy of love.

Tilting my head back, I stare up at the sky. "I tried my best to save your precious daughter even from herself. She’s a real piece of work, you know that? Well, it’s up to her fate now, mother." And silently in my head. "I hope that was enough to prove to you that having me wasn’t such a disaster."

I get into my car and feel my phone buzz.

A new post just dropped on Billion-Err and this time; it’s not about Demi for a change. It’s about Skylar Sanders.