Resolution (Mason Family 5)

When I’m feeling like this.

Alone. So, incredibly alone.

“So, Dara, darling,” Grandfather says, each word paced. “I wanted to bring you here tonight to discuss with you some big family news that will be announced in the coming days.”

“Okay.”

He sits up in his chair. “I have decided to make a bid for president.”

President. President of what?

Oh.

President of the United States.

Although we’re sitting at the same height, Tyra still looks down at me as if I’m a plebian. And maybe I am. Maybe I’m the scum on the bottom of her red-bottomed heels. I certainly don’t have a string of pearls around my neck or a diamond bracelet that has to be hard to lug around all day.

But I am not beneath her. No. Fuck that.

I turn my attention solely on my grandfather.

“That’s exciting,” I say, measuring my response.

“It is. It is indeed. We were hoping that you would attend the press conference with us in Atlanta next week. On Thursday, I believe.”

What?

I’m still trying to figure out what any of this has to do with me when Kimberly speaks.

“Yes,” she says, smiling ruefully. “We would hate for the media to harass you if you aren’t there.”

“And why would they harass me?”

“Because …” Kimberly bats her lashes. “How would it look for the family if news breaks that Curt Bowery has a granddaughter that’s a bastard?”

“Kimmy.” Grandfather admonishes her with a scowl. “That’s not what we mean.”

But it is what he means. I can see it on his face.

I acknowledge that I have a biological child, Dara Alden. I choose with a sound mind and in front of the witnesses named below to exempt her from this document.

My breaths can’t quite get enough oxygen to my brain. Every thought takes a few seconds too long to process. My mouth goes dry.

Grandfather scoots to the edge of his chair and rests his elbows on his knees.

“The media are vultures, darling,” he says. “They are going to pick through my life with a fine-tooth comb and expose any unsavory pieces that they can find.”

Tears dot my eyes. “And that’s me, right? I’m the unsavory piece.”

Kimberly’s shoulders shrug, but I don’t acknowledge it.

I can’t.

Oh, my God.

I’m too in shock to process the entirety of this conversation. I’m too blindsided to react.

He doesn’t want me here. He doesn’t want me in his life.

“That’s not what I mean, Dara,” he says, his words firm. “You are a delightful young lady who we are just getting to know. And I think it behooves everyone involved if you join us from the beginning so that we may show a united front. It leaves little for anyone to investigate.”

My body is eerily still.

“You mean that you want to show a united front so that people don’t realize that you have a granddaughter that you’ve never bothered to get to know,” I say.

My words are as firm as his. I lock eyes with Curt and wait for him to react. I learned this from Wade—how to be strong and not bend to someone’s will.

Wade. Why didn’t I just let you come?

Curt sighs. “We are getting to know each other now. I’m building you a house, for heaven’s sake.”

No, you’re buying me off.

I stand. They all flinch, surprised by my sudden movement. I stand above them.

“Bless your hearts,” I say.

Tyra rolls her eyes. It makes me chuckle angrily.

“You’ve made a lot of money over the years, so you’re clearly not an idiot,” I say, looking at Curt. “But let me explain something to you.”

His jaw sets.

“If you wanted to get to know me, you would’ve called. Texted. Invited me to dinner—and did it yourself. Not through your assistant,” I say. “Building me a house is not getting to know me. It’s manipulation. You’re trying to put me in a situation where I can’t say anything bad about you to the press.”

“Dara—” he booms.

“Dara Alden. That’s my name. Not Bowery. I have never been a Bowery, and it’s clear I never will be.”

Curt stands. “While I appreciate your backbone, I do think it might be best for you to sleep on this before you make decisions that you can’t take back.”

“Your son already did that.”

He narrows his eyes. I narrow mine right back.

“I’m not indebted to you. I don’t want anything from you. To be clear—I won’t accept anything from you whether it’s dinner tonight or a house ever.”

I suck in a breath and feel tears welling. The pressure mounts. I need to get out of here before I let him see me weak.

“Thank you,” I say, taking them in one by one for the final time. “Thank you for letting me see what I thankfully missed out on. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

I pivot on my Target-label shoe and head to the door. Curt calls out for me, but I don’t look back.