Chapter (Two Hundred) Forty Four: My mother is dead

I need your help

His father's words from their last conversation rattled around his brain like marbles in a glass jar. He thought about those words more than he should, more than he was willing to admit. He thought about Damien's words more. He hated that Damien acted like he knew far more about their family than he did. Damien knew nothing, knew nothing about him, their father or the family. Damien was just a man with a massive ego that hated being wrong.

He had years to become a good husband and father but didn't want to.

Where is he now he is free?

Ernesto hated how much Damien's words and taunts had gotten under his skin. It was like an incessant itch that only worsened the more he scratched it.

" Damien." Ernesto hissed under his breath as his home came into view. It sounded like a curse with how much malice laced between each syllable. " Fucking Damien."