Page 30 of Blue in the Deep Blue Sea

“Good luck with that, Dad.” I kept walking.

“Not just this house, Oliver. Everything we own, including the yachts.” His voice stayed calm as he lay back and closed his eyes. “You’re on your own.”

I knew I’d been pushing my luck with him, especially lately, but he’d done this before. Every time, he was the one begging me to come back.

I wasn’t one of those sons who depended entirely on their father, burning through a fortune on exactly the things he accused me of. I’d used the allowance he gave me to start my own company, and it had grown across Europe, earning me enough to cut ties with him forever. Even so, I knew I had to keep a small part of what belonged to them. My mother had built the company alongside my father. Somehow, even though I stillhadn’t forgiven her for leaving me the way she did, I wanted to carry on her legacy.

She was the brains behind the company. She’d even come up with the idea of partnering with the art academy and funding scholarships for anyone who needed them. My father, on the other hand, only cared about making money. After she died, every new idea stopped. He simply held on to what was already there, buying, and preserving what was left. I knew that was his way of keeping her close after she was gone, but I also knew guilt played a bigger part than he would ever admit. Somewhere deep down, he believed he was the reason she killed herself.

In the end, I didn’t want to spend the rest of my life carrying a reminder of both of them. I wanted something I could look at and honestly say I’d built it myself.

The first thing I bought with the money my company earned was a yacht. I named herDeep Blue, and tomorrow she was set to sail, with me and the crew on board.

As I stepped inside the house, I spotted Viola, my father’s fiancée, sitting at the bottom of the staircase in a black silk robe. She was turning a necklace over in her fingers, staring at the chain with its blue hydrangea flower. Before wiping away her tears, she slipped it into the pocket on the left side of her robe.

“Can we talk?” she asked.

Her green eyes were swollen and red, and her blonde hair was still tousled from sleep.

“No,” I said, brushing past her as I headed upstairs.

“It’s about your mom.”

I stopped. Turning around, I stepped back down the stairs I’d just climbed and pointed a finger at her.

“No,” I shouted. “You have no right to talk about her.”

“I know.” She lowered her gaze.

“No, you don’t.” My jaw tightened. “I know you somehow knew her, and honestly, I don’t give a fuck how. But I do knowyou chose to fuck my dad and become his new wife. So, hell no. I’m not talking about my own mother with the gold-digging bitch who stole her place.”

Tears slipped down her cheeks.

“Okay,” she whispered.

“I don’t have time for this bullshit.” I threw my hands up and turned away, taking the stairs two at a time. I just wanted to get out of here, and fast.

I reached my bedroom and stormed inside, slamming the door behind me.

My phone lay on the white sheets of the king-size bed, vibrating while I stood there punching the air, trying to push the anger out of my body.

I was always like this whenever someone mentioned her.

My mother used to be everything to me, and now I couldn’t even remember her.

The part that hurt the most was people telling me how much we looked alike. I never knew what to say, because how was I supposed to know what I looked like compared to someone I couldn’t remember?

Some memories came back in dreams. Others came when I caught the smell of certain food or stood by the sea. But they felt more like dreams than memories, disconnected from anything I could truly call my own.

It was funny how the people we loved the most faded with time, while the faces we desperately wanted to forget found their way back when we least expected them.

Ever since the night I found her, I remembered her cold skin. I remembered the note she left. I remembered the way her body stood there, stiff and still.

But I couldn’t remember her face. No matter how hard I tried, my mind had carved it out, leaving nothing behind.

My phone vibrated again.

I snatched it off the bed, flipped it open, and barked, “What?”