Page 150 of Blue Gold

“I didn’t turn gay. I was born that way,” I said, proud.

“Be quiet.”

“Never.”

His eyes nearly bulged out of his big head as a vein popped at the side of his temple. “Be quiet, or I’ll⁠—”

“You’ll what? Pour another drink in my face? Fire me again? Do it.” I smiled at him, not at all intimidated. “It won’t change a thing, and I won’t care either way.”

He stepped away from me, but I wasn’t nearly finished with what I had to say to him.

“Why can’t you accept me the way I am? Why can’t you just be happy for me?”

He looked up, his face an ugly shade of crimson. “As long as you’re with that thing, you’re no son of mine.”

“But I am. Whether you like it or not, I am your flesh and blood.” I made sure to look him dead in the eyes. “And I love him. I love him more than you’ll ever know.”

His eyes burned with hate.

“Love? Don’t make me laugh. Two men together—” He shook his head. “—it’s a perversion.”

“It’s not. It’s beautiful.”

“It’s nasty. That’s what it is!” he growled, his voice echoing through the office. “You immoral freaks.”

Bowing my head down, I huffed, my lips pulled in a smile. “People who live in glass houses shouldn’t throw stones.”

“What are you on about?” he snarled.

Looking up, I stared at him, unfazed. “You’ve been unfaithful to Mother since the day you got married, fucking girls young enough to be your daughters. Mom is no better, screwing whoever catches her interest while wasting your money on only God knows what. Catherine is a shallow, selfish girl who shoplifts in her spare time, and Andrew? He’s completely lost himself in drugs and booze, almost getting kicked out of school as a result. And instead of actually helping him, you fixed the problem by tossing money at it like you always do, as if money is a substitute for good parenting. And yet, you think you have the right to lecture me about morals?”

By now, his face was so red that I feared the vein on his temple would burst, and yet, I didn’t budge. Instead, I stood there, more confident in myself than I’d ever been before. Why? Because at last, I saw him for the pitiful, small man that he was—one without a drop of love in his life.

He stayed quiet for a few moments, then rounded the wooden table in his office, pulled something out of one of the drawers, and tossed it at me.

A letter.

“You feel all high-and-mighty, don’t you?” he said as I picked it up from the floor.

“What is this?”

“Proof that you tossed your life away for an unfaithful tramp.”

Opening the envelope, I pulled out the letter.

“I’ll save you the translation. It’s from one of his previous prey, another man who lost himself in this madness, who seems to still lust over your whore. Clearly, they’re keeping in touch, given the lewd crap he wrote there.”

“How did you get it?” I asked as I pushed the letter back inside the envelope.

“A guy I sent to follow that whore of yours picked it out of the garbage after he tried getting rid of the evidence. Sneaky little bitch.”

And while I couldn’t care less about what was written in the letter itself, I did care about the envelope. With Father’s nonsense playing in the background like a broken record, I flipped it, my eyes going to the address written on the top, including the name of the small village in Provence, France, this letter was sent from.

I found you.

“You see, it’s a shame you risked it all for a mere slut. A man, at that. But if you agree to get back on the right track, I’m willing to forgive⁠—”

“Elliot Dufort.”