Tyson
I didn't call ahead. Didn't give them warning. I just drove straight to my parents'
house, Caleb's words still ringing in my ears, the image of Preston's confused face
burned into my brain. ”Why was Daddy mad?” My hands were shaking as I pulled
into their driveway. Celeste's car was there too—that piece of shit Honda she was
always complaining about, the one she apparently needed ten grand to r eplace
before her European vacation. The sight of it made my blood boil. I didn't knock. I
walked right in like I'd done my entire life. Mom was in the kitchen, Dad in his
recliner watching the news. They both looked up when I entered, and I saw Mom's
face brighten before she registered my expression. "Tyson, honey—" "Where is
she?" Mom's smile faltered. "Celeste? She's upstairs. Sweetheart, why don't you sit
down and—" "Celeste!" I shouted toward the stairs. "Get down here. Now." "Tyson."
Dad was on his feet, his voice taking on that warning tone he'd used when I was a
teenager. "You need to calm down." "Calm down?" I turned on him. "Calm down? I
just left my four-yearold son crying because he doesn't understand why his daddy
left. My pregnant wife won't even let me in the house. And you want me to calm
down?" Celeste appeared at the top of the stairs, her phone in her hand. She looked
annoyed, like I was interrupting something important.
"What's your problem?" "My problem?" I took a st ep toward the stairs. "My problem
is that you're a liar." Her face went pale, but she recovered quickly, lifting her chin.
"I don't know what you're talking about." "The DNA test. It was fake, wasn't it?" The
silence that followed was deafening. Mom's hand went to her throat. Dad's face
hardened. "Tyson, that's a serious accusation," Dad said. "Is it an accusation if it's
true?" I k ept my eyes on Celeste. She was gripping the banister now, her knuckles
white. "Answer me, Celeste. Did you fake that DNA test?" "I—" She looked at Mom,
then Dad, like they could save her. "Brook probably told you to say that. She's
trying to turn you against your own family." "Brook hasn't said anything to me
because she won't talk to me!" My voice cracked. "Because I was stupid enough to
believe you. Because I chose you over her." "Tyson, please." Mom moved toward
me. "Let's all just sit down and talk about this rationally." "No." I held up my hand.
"No more talking. No more excuses. Celeste, I'm going to ask you one more time,
and I want the truth. Did you fake that DNA test?" She stared at me for a long
moment, and I saw it—the moment she realized she was caught. Her defiance
crumbled slightly, r eplaced by something uglier. Resentment.
"So what if I did?" She descended a few st eps, her voice rising. "Brook's always
been stuck-up. Always acting like she's better than everyone. Better than me." The
words hit me like a physical blow. "You... you admitted it. You actually—" "She
never liked me!" Celeste was shouting now, tears streaming down her face, but
they were angry tears. "From the moment you brought her home, she looked down
on me. Always so perfect, so put-together. And you chose her. You always chose her
over your own family." "Because she's my wife!" I roared. "She's my wife, and
Preston is my son, and you—" I couldn't even find words. "You tried to destroy my
family because what? Because you're jealous? Because you wanted money for a
fucking vacation?" "Tyson, language," Mom said weakly. I whirled on her. "Are you
serious right now? Mom, she faked a DNA test. She blackmailed Brook. She made
me think my son wasn't mine, and you're worried about my language?" "We didn't
know," Dad said, but he looked shaken. "Tyson, we didn't know she—" "You should
have known!" I was shaking now, everything pouring out. "You should have
questioned it. You should have asked me if I really believed Brook would cheat. But
you didn't. You just sided with Celeste automatically." "She's our daughter," Mom
whispered. "And Brook is my wife! She's been part of this family for seven years.
Seven years, and the moment Celeste showed up with some bullshit story, you
threw her away like she meant nothing."I let out a sob. “Just like I did.”
Celeste was crying harder now, but I couldn't feel sorry for her. Not even a little bit.
"How did you even do it?" I asked, my voice cold. "How did you fake a DNA test?"
She wiped her nose with the back of her hand. "I found forms online. Filled them
out myself. It's not that hard." The casual way she said it—like it was nothing, like
she hadn't just blown up my entire life—made me want to put my fist through the
wall. "You're selfish," I said, my voice shaking. "You're cruel and selfish, and you've
destroyed everything. My marriage, my family, my son's sense of security—all of it,
because you wanted money for a trip. Celeste, you have done nothing but try to
destroy Brook from the first day.” "Tyson, that's enough," Dad said. "She made a
mistake, but—" "A mistake?" I laughed, but there was no humor in it. "A mistake is
forgetting to pick up milk. This was calculated. This was malicious. She blackmailed
Brook first, did you know that? Demanded ten thousand dollars or she'd tell me
Preston wasn't mine." Mom gasped. Dad's face went red. "She's eighteen," Mom
said desperately. "She's young, she didn't think—" "She's old enough to know
better!" I shouted. "She's old enough to understand that actions have
consequences. And you—" I looked at both of them. "You're still making excuses for
her. Even now." "We can fix this," Dad said. "You can go home, explain to Brook
what happened—"
"Fix this?" I stared at him. "How exactly do we fix this? How do I fix the fact that I
looked my wife in the eye and told her I couldn't stay in our house? That I chose to
believe the worst of her instead of trusting the woman I've loved since I was
seventeen? How do I fix the fact that my son watched me walk out?" "You made a
mistake too," Mom said softly. "Brook will understand. She loves you." "I don't
deserve her understanding." The truth of it settled over me like a weight. "I don't
deserve her, period. And you—" I looked at all three of them. "You all chose wrong.
You chose to believe a lie instead of trusting someone who's never been anything
but good to this family. And I'm disgusted with myself for listening to you." "Tyson,
please," Celeste said, her voice small now. "I'm sorry. I didn't think—" "No, you
didn't think . You didn't think about anyone but yourself." I headed for the door,
done with all of them. "Don't contact me. Any of you. I need to figure out how to fix
what I've broken, and I can't do that with you in my ear." "Tyson!" Mom called after
me, but I was already out the door. I sat in my truck for a long moment, my hands
gripping the steering wheel so hard my knuckles ached. There was relief—God,
there was relief in finally confronting them, in finally standing up for Brook the way
I should have from the beginning. But underneath that relief was horror. Pure,
sickening horror at how much damage had been done. At how easily I'd let it
happen. I'd chosen wrong. And now I had to live with that. The question was: would
Brook let me try to make it right.