Chapter 136: Edges of a ghost...
Rhett
I woke up to the weight of something pressing down on my chest
I hadn’t meant to sleep. I’d lain on top of the covers sometime before dawn, shoes still on, shirt unbuttoned. When I opened his eyes, light angled across the ceiling from the eastern windows, as though the morning itself had run out of colour.
A soft door sounded on my door before it slowly opened.
My father leaned in and called quietly. "Rhett?"
"Yeah." My throat was raw and scratchy. "Come in."
My father slipped inside with two steaming mugs in his hand. He set one mug on the nightstand and took the chair by the window, studying me like he always does.
We remained like that for a few minutes before he pointed to the steaming mugs.
"Black coffee," he said. "And... ginger tea. In case the coffee makes your stomach riot."
I reached for the tea, trying to control the tremors that shook my hand as I held the mug, but it only clinked against the ceramic saucer. If my father noticed, he didn’t comment.
I took a sip from the tea, loving the way the hotness warmed me from the inside. I sipped slowly, while my father kept staring at a spot opposite him. After a while, he cleared his throat.
"I’m divorcing Clara," he said quietly.
My hands froze on my lips, and the cup had already been lifted, and I turned to look at him. "Why? Dad, you can’t do that. She’s pregnant."
My dad scoffed slightly. "She was never pregnant to begin with. You know we’ve been trying for children for a while, and I’ve tried to do everything recommended by the doctors. We’re both fine, and I know Clara was so desperate for a child, but I discovered she lied to me about getting pregnant."
"So you would disinherit me?" I asked quietly.
My father looked up at me and nodded. "Clara was so insistent that I renounce you as my heir and name the new baby. She was so convinced that you would die any moment, and so it was pointless making you heir."
He leaned forward, picked up the coffee from the nightstand, and took a gulp, wincing at the bitterness before he continued.
"You know she travelled to her pack, something about being closer to home and getting help from her mom. For some weird reason, I decided to check it out, you know, find out how my wife is doing and my newborn baby, only for me to get to her pack, a month ago, to discover she wasn’t pregnant."
"I don’t know what to say, Dad," I whispered, but my dad flashed me a quiet smile, shaking his head.
"She was arranging to get a newborn baby by her due date. It’s a lot of messy information, and I wouldn’t want to bore you with it, but she had given me an ultimatum that if I didn’t renounce you as heir before the birth of the child, she would leave."
"Were you ever going to do that?"
My father smiled thinly. "Of course not!" he shook his head. "You’re my firstborn, and the law is clear about things like that. She’s accomplished a lot, and we started to grow apart three years ago. I even had several affairs with other women..."
I bit the insides of my cheek, trying to hold back the laughter that bubbled up in my throat.
"Don’t give me that look, Rhett. Women these days would do anything to get into your bed, and most of them were casual affairs. That doesn’t mean you can go around sleeping with women."
"I don’t go around sleeping with women, Dad. To say the truth, since the moment I met Charis, I stopped..."
I trailed off as the pain sizzled into my heart again at the mention of Charis’s name. I paused for a minute, fighting the sadness that filled me instantly. My dad and I lapsed back into silence until my father finally broke it.
"Your heart," He said finally. "Maxwell wants to run a new panel. He says the inflammation markers spiked again."
"Maxwell says a lot." I took a sip of my ginger tea. "I’ll go in later."
"You said that last week."
I kept his eyes on the tea. "I know."
Another long pause followed before my dad spoke again. "You don’t have to keep the engagement timeline with Lydia."
I looked up, startled. "What?"
My father’s gaze at me didn’t waver. "I’m sorry about trying not to accept that you’re in grief. I’ve lost a mate before, I know how it feel slike and she didn’t even die, she just left. Still, I couldn’t function for the first three years. If we’re being realistic, Rhett..."
He trailed off, swallowing hard.
"You don’t have three years," he paused for another minute. I could see tears in his eyes. "Maxwell thinks if you make it up to half of the new year, then you have luck by your side. When you’re gone, I never want to forget you, Rhett..."
A tear rolled down his cheek, and he dropped the mug on the floor, burying his face in his hand. "Do you know what I kept thinking, that maybe I should have listened to Maxwell and have Charis give you her heart since she’s your perfect match."
"C’maon, Dad!" I sighed.
"It’s true!" he vented. "I don’t want to lose you, Rhett. I’ve searched high and low for a match. The universe knows I’ll do everything in my power to ensure you stay here with me, but... what can I do?" he cried. "I have wealth, but I cannot save my son."
I stared at him, not knowing how to comfort him.
Before Charis, I’d always thought about dying. I’d spent days wondering about how it would be when it finally happens, but since Charis’s death, I’ve been too busy to think about that. Even right now, I wasn’t worried about dying.
"So please, you have to marry Lydia eventually and produce an heir. But I want you to heal first. I’d rather stand in front of every Alpha in the south than watch you carry something you’re not ready to carry."
My heart warmed. For a moment, it was just my father and me, and the space between us was a result of years of never communicating our feelings.
"Thank you, Dad," I whispered slowly. "Everything will be fine in the end, you’ll see."
He nodded.
"Also," I continued. "I keep feeling her, not memories but a certain warmth. Every time I try to follow up, it goes off. Do I sound insane, Dad?"
My dad shook his head. "When a bond is severed by death, it leaves a... silence," he said. "Like a clean tear. What you’re describing isn’t silence."
"Then what is it?"
"I don’t know." His mouth tightened. "But I’ve learned to trust what our wolves know before our minds permit it."
"Cian thinks she’s alive." It came out hoarse.
"What?" my father’s eyes widened. "Yes, last week... I started feeling the connection last week after our conversation."
My father regarded me for a few seconds before he nodded and rose, then placed a hand on my shoulders and squeezed it.
"Follow your hunch, Rhett. Charis is dead. What can be worse than that?"
When he finally left the room, I got up, pulled on a clean shirt, laced his boots, and left the house before anyone could stop me.