The Family Origin

Chapter Thirty-Three: JOSEPH POV

I was sitting in the dining room when I heard someone knocking on the door. We never had visitors in the evening, especially after the sun had already mostly set. I moved into the living room and peeked past the curtain to see Vincent standing on my porch. His lips were pursed into a tight scowl as he banged his fist against the door. I sighed and ran my fingers through my hair as I walked toward the door. The pace of the loud banging continued as Vincent was desperate to gain my attention.

Before I opened the door, I could already predict why he came to our house. Edith must have told him about helping with Maisie's birth. Despite not being there during the labor, Edith gave me all the information I needed for delivering my grandchild.

I cracked my knuckles before pulling my key off from around my neck to unlock the door. The floor upstairs creaked, and Miles would probably rush to the door. Hopefully, Maisie stayed away from whatever was about to happen.

When I opened the door, Vincent's hands were balled into fists at his side. I struggled not to take a step back because it looked like he was going punch me. His shoulders heaved with each heavy and exaggerated breath. He gritted his teeth as he snarled.

"What the hell is your problem?" he shouted.

"Vince, what are you doing at my home?" I asked, trying my best to keep my voice calm and even.

"What were you doing at my home? Why were you talking to Edith?"

My suspicions were correct. I refused to lie, but I was also not going to back down. I crossed my arms over my chest and stood straighter. He could not pound on my front door and try to intimidate me. He and his family were no better than us.

"I asked Edith for help," I said.

"Why do you think she would want to help you?" Vincent asked. His words were filled with venom like he thought that would scare me. "She does not need to help anyone in your family."

Vincent lifted his chin to look over my shoulder. I glance behind myself to see Miles walking down the hall. A crease formed between his brows as he walked forward. One of his hands was slightly behind his back. He stopped a few steps behind me.

"A wife?" Vincent said in disgust. "I don't believe it."

"Why did you come here tonight?" I asked.

"There is no way he found a wife," Vincent said, ignoring my question. His attention was focused on Miles. "No sane girl would ever agree to marry him."

Miles's footsteps were heavy as he stormed forward, closing the space between us. I stretched my arm out and placed my hand against the doorframe. Miles was capable of pushing past my attempt to block him, but he stopped when his chest touched my arm.

Vincent turned his focus to me. His fists remained clenched at his side, and I could see his body trembling. His scowl deepened.

"What did you do?" he asked. "Edith said you had met a girl when visiting your brother, but you must be leaving out some details. How did you get a girl to come here?"

His eyes scanned my house as he shook his head.

"You could not have paid her or her family," he said. "How did you convince a girl to marry him?"

I refused to answer, and the worst possible answers must have came into his mind. His eyes widened, and his angry scowl disappeared as his jaw dropped. He craned his neck to try and get a better look into our home. I did not want to appear suspicious and look over my shoulder, but I prayed Maisie would stay out of sight.

"Joseph, what did you do?" he asked again, but his voice was lowered.

"You need to leave," I said.

I struggled to keep my voice even and not let it waver from the anger coursing through my body. Miles had not moved, and I did not look over at him to see if his expression had changed.

"What did you do?" Vincent asked one more time.

"You need to leave," I said.

The color drained from his face. He took a step forward to try and get a better look in our home. I locked my elbow to make my arm stronger in case Miles tried to push forward.

"Who is she?" Vincent asked. "What poor innocent girl did you force into your disturbed family?"

"She wants to be here," Miles said.

"She wants to be here?" he said in disbelief. "No one would ever want to be part of this family. No girl would want to be with you. You are a freak. After everything you have done, you are an absolute monster. Now, you are making a girl be your wife against her will, and you forced her to have your child."

Vincent swore loudly. He ran his fingers through his hair as he took a step back. I prayed that he would walk away without continuing to fight. Even if he went to the police, I was not scared. Maisie loved being a Wilcox. She would not say anything bad about our family.

"That is not true," Miles said. "You can talk to her yourself."

I furrowed my brows as I looked over at Miles. He took a step back. His expression remained unreadable, and his hand was slightly behind his back.

What was he doing? He hated Vincent. He probably hated Vincent even more than I did. Why would he be inviting this man into our home? Why would he want him to be near Maisie?

I bit down on my lip to stop my jaw from hanging open. My mind went back to what Miles said after Clara's death. His words played over and over in my head. He refused to let anyone also hurt our family.

He was going to kill Vincent.

Before I could stop him, Vincent pushed past me and stepped into our home. Miles was close behind him as he charged down the hall.

Where was Maisie? I prayed she stayed upstairs.

Vincent walked straight into our kitchen. He froze as he looked around. He had never been in our home before and had no idea where he was going.

Miles's movements were quick. I saw a quick flash of metal before he reached forward and grabbed Vincent's shirt. Vincent stumbled as Miles pulled him back into his chest. His scream was short and cut off when Miles placed the knife against his throat. In one swift motion, Miles dragged the blade from one side to the other. The blood sprayed across the kitchen cabinets and floor. Vincent's body dropped to the floor, and a pool of his own blood formed around him. The knife stayed in Miles's hand, and his arm was soaked with the sticky crimson. Beads of blood dripped off the end of the blade and landed on the floor.

Another lifeless body was laying on my kitchen floor. I was torn about how to react to this death. It was not my loving wife nor a deranged intruder. Instead, it was a man I knew but had no emotional connection to. He was not a stranger, but he was someone who was threatening my family.

The floor upstairs creaked under Maisie's steps as she ran. The bedroom door slammed shut. Miles let out a deep breath and dropped the knife on the floor. He stepped toward the staircase.

"Where are you going?" I asked.

"I need to talk to Maisie," he said.

"We need to clean up this mess," I said.

"I will do it myself, but I am talking to Maisie first."

Miles rushed up the staircase. I sighed and rubbed the sore muscles in my neck. The door slammed again. How much had Maisie seen and heard?

I stepped over Vincent's body and opened the blood splattered cupboard. My whiskey bottles had been missing for awhile, but I held onto the hope one would be lingering at the back of the shelf. Unfortunately, one did not magically appear. I muttered a few curses before placing my hands on the edge of the counter. I looked over my shoulder at Vincent's body.

Miles was telling the truth. He would do anything he could to keep the family safe.