The Homecoming: Book Three of The Psychopath Maker Series

Chapter 22: Evil Has A Name

Hallowed Halls. Malachi couldn't free his mind of the phrase as he and his mom followed an overly dapper butler. The estate that sprawled across the lush corner lot of 3 Washington Blvd. wasn't what he was expecting. He knew the Lemen were well-to-do or at most borderline rich. He assumed their status was based solely on their former Vice President patriarch and knowing the right people on the right pedestals. The Lemen also had a way with words—constructing lies and bending them to mimic the truth. It was a talent. A powerful ability that Malachi didn't suspect would also garnish wealth, not wealth like his mom's family. He underestimated them, again.

"Mr. Lemen doesn't condone being disturbed while he's working." The butler stopped in front of the closed French doors. Eggshell curtains covered the glass doors shielding the happenings inside from the eyes of whoever traveled down the marble-floored hallway. The bald man's crow's feet deepened as he narrowed his eyes and pulled his wiry eyebrows together, "His work is important."

Malachi tsked behind his mom which earned him a clipped glare from both the adults before him. He scowled at the man but gave his mom a timid shrug. "He's not a governor anymore. What important thing could he possibly be doing?" His words were under his breath but he knew his mom heard him from the way she cleared her throat.

"Like I said at the front door..." His mom squared her shoulders with a tilt of her head—her shoulder-length onyx tresses swept across her navy blazer effortlessly. "You can either disturb him now or I'll disturb him later, publicly."

"Threats do not work here, ma'am." Flints of anger sparked in the butler's eyes.

"Got us down the hallway." Malachi didn't cower under the man's gaze. "Doth protest too much. Mom, let's just go." He tugged on her arm but she didn't stir.

His mom chuckled lightly to herself then placed a hand on her chest sincerely. "I get it. Your job is to follow the directions and procedures of your employer. I understand, wholeheartedly but ignorance is not bliss and it's time for my son...our child..." She gestured from herself to the man who was hidden behind the closed doors. "Needs to know the truth. Now, step aside and I'll open the door myself." A pleasant smile spread on her lips.

The butler brushed his eyes up and down the woman with utter dislike then he scrolled his sight to Malachi. "You're that son." He humped with disdain and superiority that he wasn't entitled to and saunter back down the hallway.

"He wanted to say 'black' didn't he." Malachi watched the man retreat missing his mom twist the doorknob.

"Simone...what are you—" The male voice called Malachi's vision back in front of him. Nausea and indignation swarmed underneath his flesh, turning his stomach with a sickness he hadn't been acquainted with. "Malachi...son."

The familiar title tied to his name birth a chortle from Malachi as he entered the room joining his mom's side. It had to be a joke and jokes were meant to be laughed at.

"Nah," Malachi shook his head at the man's chocolate hair, eyes of brass, and skin of butterscotch. "You're confused. I'm not Alex or what's the other one's name..." He shrugged, it didn't matter the name of his other children—they weren't people he needed to know. "I'm not your son and you're not my dad. You just fertilized my mom's egg."

"Chi!" His mom snapped at him and he held up his hands in surrender when she turned back to the man standing behind the opulent teak desk. "Ben, I didn't come here to step on anyone's toes or cause unrest but Alex is in trouble and it's—"

"He's what?" Worry and confusion quickly took over his continence.

"Don't act as if you care." Malachi couldn't stop the words from slipping out of his mouth, they've been weighing his tongue down ever since he sent Alex to the mental hospital.