Bound By Lies - Rafe Cameron

Chapter 52

Rafe's POV

I sit at the dining room table, staring blankly at the breakfast in front of me. I haven't touched it, haven't even looked up since Ward sat down. My mind is elsewhere—lost in the mess I've made, the damage I can't seem to fix, no matter how hard I try.

But then Ward's voice cuts through the haze, bringing me back to reality.

"Rafe, are you listening?" he snaps, irritation clear in his tone. "I'm talking about John B's trial. You know, the thing that could ruin our family if he somehow gets off the hook?"

I barely suppress an eye roll, my fingers drumming impatiently on the table. "I heard you, Dad. You don't have to keep repeating it."

Ward's eyes narrow, and I know that look—he's pissed. But I can't find it in myself to care. Not when my whole world is falling apart right in front of me.

"We need to be prepared, Rafe. If John B gets off, the press is going to be all over us again, and we can't afford to have any more slip-ups. You understand that, right?"

"Yeah, whatever," I mutter, glancing out the window. The sky's overcast, heavy with the threat of rain—perfect. Just what I need. More gray. More darkness.

Ward slams his fist on the table, making me jump. "Goddamnit, Rafe, look at me when I'm talking to you! This is serious!"

"Honestly?" I snap back, finally meeting his eyes with a glare. "Who gives a fuck about John B's stupid trial? He's a dead man walking either way. The judge isn't going to let him off for something this big, so why should I care?"

Ward's jaw clenches, his eyes burning with anger. "Because it's our family's reputation at stake, Rafe! And it's your responsibility to protect that. You can't keep screwing around. You have to get your head in the game."

But I just scoff, leaning back in my chair. "Oh, so now you care about reputations, huh? Where was all this concern when you were making deals behind everyone's back? Where was it when you decided to let me clean up your mess?"

Ward's face flushes red, and for a moment, I wonder if he's actually going to hit me. But he doesn't. He just shakes his head, disgust etched into every line of his face.

"You're pathetic, you know that?" he hisses. "All you ever do is whine and blame everyone else. Maybe if you actually did something useful for once—"

"Shut up!" I yell, jumping to my feet, the chair screeching loudly against the tile floor. "Just shut the fuck up! I don't care about John B, I don't care about the trial, and I don't care about this goddamn family!"

"You're obsessed," he mutters, shaking his head. "That girl's going to be the death of you, Rafe."

I swallow hard, my throat tight. He's not wrong. But what Ward doesn't get is that I can't live without her. I can't just let her go and move on like he's suggesting.

"If I can't have her," I say softly, staring down at the table, "then I don't want to live at all."

Ward's face twists with something—pity, maybe. But I turn away, not wanting to see it. I don't need his pity. I don't need anything from him.

"Focus on the trial," he says quietly, his voice lacking its usual edge. "Do what you need to do, but don't forget what's at stake here. You might not care now, but you will... when everything falls apart."

But I just shake my head, my mind already drifting back to Teresa. "I don't care about any of it, Dad. Not the trial. Not John B. Not the family. All I care about is her."