Reality

Chapter 27

As soon as the private jet lands, I'm out of the cabin and walking briskly down the runway, relieved to see Daniel with my car, like I asked.

"Daniel," I greet him, slipping into the driver's seat of my Corvette.

Daniel responds with a nod, closing the door after I jump in.

I quickly buckle my seatbelt and reeve the engine, throwing the car into drive. The tires squeal against the pavement, and I go racing forward, realizing I'm punching the gas harder than I intended.

The two hour plane ride in silence only made my blood boil, giving me time to really think about all of the shit Chris did and how he's lied to me for years, purposefully making my life a living hell.

I speed towards the city, cursing when I hit the beginning of the early lunch rush traffic. I swerve in and out of cars as fast as I can, determined to get to my destination.

Finally, I pull up to the large building that houses my record label and jump out, tossing my keys to the valet. I walk into the large lobby and take the elevator up to the nineteenth floor where I get off and the receptionist greets me, letting me know that Mr. Brant is in his office. Without a second thought, I go marching towards Chris's office at the end of the hall that he was given by the label and enter without even knocking.

Chris is sitting at his desk, his face hard and forehead creased as he leans back in his leather chair with his phone sealed to his ear, chewing someone's ear off. I notice the dark bruise on his cheek where I punched him, and a weird sensation of both satisfaction and guilt hit me at once. In fact, a whole swirl of emotions brew inside of me at the sight of him. Anger, disgust, disappointment, and most of all bewilderment. I just can't wrap my head around the fact that the man I grew up with—a man I considered family and trusted to always have my best interest at heart—could betray me and be so vile to purposefully hurt the only girl I ever loved.

Chris's eyes widen when he sees me and he hastily ends his conversation and slams the phone down in its base.

"Where the hell have you been?" he has the nerve to bark at me.

I grit my teeth, seconds away from losing it.

"I've been calling you nonstop," he continues. "You have a lot of nerve to just up and leave your father's funeral with her and then run away and not answer your damn phone!"

"I have a lot of nerve?" I seethe, taking a threatening step forward, and Chris stands from his chair. "I caught you fucking my mother in the bathroom of the funeral home!"

"Jesus Christ," Chris mutters, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. "And she's been fucking your father behind your back!" he retorts.

I quickly stride to the edge of his desk, leaning over the dark wood and jabbing my finger inches in front of his face. "That's not true and you fucking know it," I growl.