Page 46 of Xander

“That’s where you’re wrong.”

“Xander, I respect that you and Henry have your differences, but I won’t listen to a word against him,” she spoke out of the corner of her mouth. Outwardly, she put on a fake smile for the curious guests to mollify the cringeworthy situation.

But I didn’t give a shit if they stared. “He has brainwashed you,” I snapped.

“He didn’t,” was her rebuttal. “He was there for me when my life fell apart. Do you know what happens at a court-mandated mental institution? They said I was a danger to myself and society. No one could get me out, but Henry stepped in and took responsibility for me. He even petitioned for conservatorship to check me out of that horrible place.”

What the fuck?

I stared at her in horror. “You willingly gave him power of attorney?” I asked, appalled.

When they got married, Henry forced my mother to give up her career and rely solely on him. I was stunned upon learning that Jordan planned to keep working after the wedding. The puzzle pieces finally fell into place.

It didn’t bother him if Jordan “kept herself busy” because he already owned her. If there was one thing Henry loved more than a beautiful woman, it was having complete control of her life. She could never go against him. He’d have her committed if she tried to leave him, saying she was mentally unfit to make the decision.

Jordan had signed her life away.

Fuck.

I shook her shoulders with urgency. “What have you done, Jordan?”

“What do you mean?” she asked, perplexed.

“He’ll never let you go if he’s your conservator,” I stated the disturbing truth. “He’ll destroy you.”

My chest constricted at the thought of evil darkness absorbing this beautiful, bright light. The sun would set forever and would never shine again.

A dagger sliced through my chest, and I finally grasped why I didn’t want to walk her down the aisle to marry another man—why I couldn’t let her go and was making a spectacle in the middle of her wedding.

I have fallen in love with my father’s bride.

The weight of the realization slapped me hard. I knew this weekend would end poorly; I merely didn’t foresee the reason.

I wanted to take Jordan in my arms and run. Anywhere with her was better than the most luxurious places without her, but where could we go? I was nineteen and in college. It’d be short-lived happiness even if I somehow convinced her. My father lived for vengeance. He’d institutionalize her as revenge and leave Mom and Jasper penniless to punish me.

Resentment like I had never known flowed through me. It was directed at my brother, my sick mother, and everyone I loved. Every time I wanted something for myself, my hands were tied because of them. I gave up a career with the NHL and attended college locally to save Jasper from Henry’s wrath. I did as Henry asked so he wouldn’t cut Mom’s monthly stipend.

I had happily made those sacrifices but never saw this one coming—the one that’d wreck me—giving Jordan up.

Jordan was a queen. She’d never run away with a teenager without money or income, and everything she owned belonged to him. The same man paid for my home as well as my bills.

If he’d allowed my mother to work during their marriage, he couldn’t have kept the three of us under financial captivity. Economic abuse was also a form of abuse, and I vowed one day to break free of it. I’d achieve everything to give her the life she deserved—one fit for the sun.

One day, she’d see what I had accomplished, and finally, she’d want to hold my hand and walk out of this hellhole together.

Jordan gazed up at me with glassy eyes, trying to understand the conflict warring in my expressions. A whisper of gossip broke out amongst the guests as we stared at one another. It was enough for Henry to lose his calm. He jokingly assured the guests that the blushing bride was feeling shy, though I didn’t miss the bite in his tone. Angry footsteps approached us, and I knew my worst fear was about to become a reality.

Our time together had come to an end.

A single noteworthy tear slid down her right cheek. Perhaps it finally dawned on her that she’d been dismissing Henry’s reg flags until it was too late, and she was in an inescapable predicament.

Or could it be that she was also mourning what we never had?

Neither of us looked away as Henry gripped her hand. He tore her away from me and walked her toward the ceremony. With this small act, Henry accomplished the one thing he had been trying to accomplish my entire life.

He had finally pushed me far enough to break me.

A single tear, similar to the one Jordan had shed, slipped out of my left eye as I turned and walked away, refusing to look at the sun ever again.