Ryan's Point of View
I woke up drenched in sweat, my muscles tense and heart racing from the recurring nightmares. This was just one of many nights where I struggled with the thought that I was responsible for her death. All I saw whenever my eyes closed was the sad smile that crossed her lips before she fell, whispering,
"I love you, Ryan."
I tried to save her but ended up putting her in danger. If I had just stayed that night, she wouldn't have been murdered by the assassin sent after me. Alice took the bullet for me.
Each day reminded me that I was a failure. Without Alice, I was nothing.
I swallowed hard, my head aching from the late-night partying. I clutched my head, observing the room where I had spent the night. The bedsheets were stained with blood—a reminder of the "fun" I had last night with a woman.
I found it hard to believe she had left without asking for money. Or, had I hallucinated? It sounded insane that I might have satisfied myself last night while hallucinating.
No, I was sure I had seen a woman at the party, and things had gotten wild. I could still hear her voice:
"Don't stop!" she'd moaned, her muscles tensing, pupils dilated as she grabbed a handful of my hair
I got to my feet, walked into the bathroom, and turned on the shower, letting the cold water wash away the grime from last night.
Just as I was done, wrapping a towel around my waist, a knock sounded on the door.
I walked over and opened it. Right in front of me stood an average-looking blonde woman, her eyes widening as they landed on my chest.
She opened her mouth to say something, but no words came out, she was too stunned to speak. I get that alot.
"You were saying?" I cleared my throat, snapping her back to reality.
Her cheeks reddened with embarrassment.
"Your…expired…" she stammered, still staring at my chest. I rolled my eyes and slammed the door before heading to the closet. My stay in the suite was over, and she was there to remind me to pay up and leave or settle my account to keep the room.
After dressing, I went out to pay for the room. I had a great time last night, ordering the most expensive strippers and wine. Money wasn't a problem for me—or so I thought.
I reached for my wallet and handed my debit card to the waiter.
"Insufficient funds, sir," he said, giving me back the card.
"Insufficient funds?" I scoffed. That phrase had never been associated with the Walters family.
"You've got to be kidding me," I said, but the waiter remained serious. Reality hit me—my father had frozen my accounts, just like he'd promised, because of my expensive lifestyle.
I called my brother George, who showed up and paid the bill. Disappointment was clear on his face. He was the pride of the family, while I was the black sheep.
"You need to stop this lifestyle, Ryan," my brother warned, his tone dead serious.
I shifted my eyes to the streets, not wanting to look at him nor exchange words with him.
Anger boiled in me, my fingers drumming in an agitated rhythm on the window.
The ride home was silent, the serene air occasionally punctuated by the humming of tyres and engine.
When we arrived at the Walters mansion, I stormed into the house, ready to confront him. I definitely needed to give him a piece of my mind
"Father, I think you've got some explaining to do!" I yelled, my face reddening with anger.
"Oh, did George break the news that you are going to become a groom?" he asked.
I paused right in my tracks, raising my brow in confusion. Groom? He got to be kidding me. Was this a joke to him?
"Groom?" I asked rhetorically, still confused.
"Yes, I got you a bride to tame your nonchalant attitude," he replied, his tone rising.
This was it. I had let him detect each step of my life. Not anymore.
"You are always detecting my life,father. I am not buying this!" I said, trying to walk away.
"That is because you are Irresponsible," he replied coldly, his tone unforgiving.
I paused, taking a deep breath. He has always considered me the useless son, anyway.
"The word 'irresponsible' never touched the Walters family until I had you as a son. You are a disgrace, and I'll tame you if I must. One more word, and you'll cease to be my son!" he bellowed before walking out, leaving the silence to amplify my chaotic thoughts.
"Ryan, your father…" my mother started, but I turned and walked out of the room, heading to the garden to clear my head.
This had to be a mistake. There was no way he could dictate my life. I had no intention of settling down—especially not with a lowlife from the gutters of Texas.
I reached into my pocket, took out a lighter, and lit a cigarette, my father's words echoing in my head. I took a long drag, sinking onto a swing. Just as I started to relax, my phone buzzed.
I reached for it and squinted at the caller ID.
"Kyle?" I muttered, confused. Kyle was my ex-girlfriend. After Alice's death, I had hooked up with her for a while, but we'd split when she left for a modeling gig in France.
"Hello, Ryan," she called. I took a deep breath, biting my lips in anger.
"What game are you up to?" I asked, my brow furrowing a little bit.
"Game?" she mocked. "I just decided to check up on you." she said in the most seductive tone.
"Can you go straight to the point?" I asked my temper flaring.
I could hear her exhale at the other end of the line.
"I think I have your baby, Ryan," she announced.
I felt goosebumps appear on my skin, my mind racing with thoughts.
"What baby are you talking about?" I asked.
"You are going to become a father, I am pregnant!" she announced.
What the Heck?!