Storm's Mafia Princess

The Rapist

Rhyett's Pov

As I see Adeline exit our father's office, I
contemplate if I should follow her. Her red eyes and flushed look persuaded me to go after her but I stop.

She might need to be alone.

The conversation with dad must've been nerve-wracking for her. After all she was hiding it for so long now. I wonder if she would've told anyone just yet if she wasn't forced to tell me.

I stare at her retracting figure going upstairs to her room, wiping the remnants of her tears. A strange ache settles in my chest before I bring back my gaze to the door.

A moment later, I hear a loud thud followed by glass shattering. Dad must've guessed that she was already upstairs by now —as she never stops to spend time with us— and waited just long enough to take out his frustration.

I know he would wanna talk to me so I knock and enter before he replies. The sight I'm met with unsettles me more than I already am.

This isn't how I expected him to react. I knew he'd be shocked and worried but I didn't think he'd get ragged. No matter how gut-wrenching the news is, he never loses control like this.

The whole office is messed up. The broken vase lies on the floor accompanying the cupboard —holding records of our most beneficial and illegal deals.

Dad stands next to the window with his hands on either side and forehead resting on it in resignation. His hair are disheveled and coat has been discarded somewhere on the floor.

He doesn't bother to turn and see who entered the room. He knows it could only be me or Cyrus. No one else dares to disturb him in a bad mood.

With the whole situation, I instantly knew that it's worse than I thought. Dad would never act this way otherwise.

My mind swirls with thoughts that I don't want to be true.

When Adeline avoided answering questions related to the father of her baby, I had doubts. But when she woke up screaming from a nightmare, I couldn't help but draw out assumptions.

"Dad?" I call out and he silently turn around.

I know this conversation will be hard on both of us so I make my way towards the mini bar set in the corner -that's luckily far enough to not have gotten destroyed.

I take out the finest in the collection; a sixteen years aged whiskey. Pouring it in two glasses, I make my way to him and set the glass on the table, leaning against it —as there's no use of getting the beaten-up chair from the floor.

"Drink?" He exhales one last time and picks up the glass, chugging it in one go.

"You knew?" I could feel his fury even with the five feet distance between us.

"She told me last night."

"What happened last night that she suddenly decided to tell you about it and not me?" He pours himself another serving.

"She was bleeding and thought she was having a miscarriage-" Dad cuts me off.

"She was what?" His eyes widen and voice gets laced with worry.

"Everything was ok. The baby's fine and so is she. Apparently, it's normal to bleed a bit but she needs to take proper rest and restrict any sort of physical activity for it to not escalate further." I explain.

"I'll ensure that." He says deep in thought as if making a mental note for himself.

He suddenly seems to snap out of it and his eyebrows pinch together as he asks, "Where did you take her for the check up?"