Chapter 1 - The Day My Son Stopped Calling Them Family
Julian Mercer heard his five-year-old stepson crying before he reached the family room.
He had come back to his father’s Winnetka mansion almost two hours early because a client meeting in Lake Forest had been canceled. His keys were still in his hand when he heard Evelyn’s voice from behind the closed double doors.
“You belong with the trash. You’re no better than any of it.”
Julian shoved the doors open.
Nat was curled inside a large padded household bin that Evelyn used for collecting wrapping paper after parties. Crumpled paper and clean snack wrappers surrounded him. His cheeks were soaked with tears.
Evelyn stood over him.
Walter, Julian’s sixty-seven-year-old father, leaned on his cane a few feet away.
And he was laughing.
Julian didn’t remember crossing the room.
He lifted Nat out immediately and pressed the boy against his chest.
“What the hell did you do to my son?”
“Your son?” Walter said.
Evelyn reached for Julian’s arm. “He was throwing a tantrum—”
Julian shoved her hand away hard enough that she stumbled backward into an armchair.
Walter stepped toward him.
“Watch yourself in my house.”
Julian turned.
His open palm struck Walter across the face.
The sound shocked even Julian.
Walter’s head snapped sideways.
For one second, nobody moved.
Then Julian pointed toward the hallway.
“You treated a five-year-old like garbage in my house?”
Walter slowly straightened.
“It’s my house.”
Julian’s jaw tightened.
Walter touched his reddening cheek and gave him a look Julian had known since childhood—the cold expression that meant punishment was already being calculated.
“And he isn’t your blood.”
Julian pulled Nat closer.
“Then both of you can get out of my family.”
Evelyn’s face changed.
Walter’s did not.
Nat buried his face against Julian’s shoulder.
Then Julian felt the boy whisper something into his shirt.
“Dad…”
Julian rubbed his back.
“I’m here.”
“They do this every time you leave.”
Julian stopped breathing for a second.
Evelyn looked toward Walter.
Walter looked at the grandfather clock near the windows.
Not at Nat.
At the clock.
Then he said quietly, “You weren’t supposed to be back until six.”
Julian stared at him.
May you like
That was the first moment he understood this might not have been a cruel afternoon that had gotten out of control.
Someone had expected him to be gone.
