Her Son
CULLEN
The room went quiet with silence after my father’s last words. I could hear the clock ticking on the wall and the faint hum of the air conditioning. My father sat down slowly behind his desk, folded his hands, and looked between us with a calculating stare.
“We need a plan,” he said at last. “Now.”
I didn’t say a word. Neither did Cyrus.
My father continued, “Sarah’s father hasn’t left that hospital since she was brought in. He hasn’t even gone home. And you know what he told me last night?” He looked directly at me. “He said if his daughter dies, the peace between our families dies with her.”
My stomach twisted. I knew Ronan Sullivan wasn’t bluffing. He was old school, loyal, but also bloodthirsty when provoked. And right now, he was standing on the edge of war, waiting for a reason to jump.
“We can’t let this get out of control,” Cyrus finally said, quieter now, his earlier arrogance dulled. “If he acts before we know what happened before Sarah wakes up, we might not be able to stop what comes next.”
“Exactly.” My father nodded. “We need two things. One— quietly investigate what the hell happened to Sarah. Not some outsider, not a cop. Someone ours. Two—we need to keep the Irish from lighting that fuse while we do it.”
He stood, turned toward the tall cabinet in the corner, and poured himself a glass of scotch. “Cullen, you’re going back to that hospital. Tonight.”
I blinked. “Why? You just said....”
“You’re her husband,” he snapped. “Her husband, Cullen. You walk in there like a wrecked man and sit by her bedside like you can’t breathe without her. You let Ronan see it. Let him see the pain in your face. Let him believe you're ready to burn heaven and earth for her. That’s how we stall him. That's how we buy time.”
I clenched my jaw. “And if he sees right through it?”
“Then pray he doesn’t,” Cyrus muttered.
“I’m not finished,” my father cut in. “Cyrus—you’ll make contact with the McCormack brothers. They’re close to Ronan, but they’re also businessmen. You get them to broker a temporary ceasefire. Whatever it costs. Promise money. Promise land—I don’t care. We need time, Cyrus. If they think we’re working with them, not against them, they might hold off.”
Cyrus nodded, lips tight. “I’ll handle it.”
My father was silent for a moment, his eyes shifting between me and Cyrus before he finally spoke.
“I’m working on it. I have to make some phone calls."
"Be quick. We’re waiting for you.”
Cyrus nodded and left the room without another word.
Now it was just me and my father, the tension thick between us as we stared at each other. It’s not like I didn’t like my dad, or that we didn’t get along. He just always tended to see me as the weaker one between the two of us. Cyrus was his golden child, and I? I was barely seen.
It was like I didn’t exist without Cyrus. As if I were an extension of him. It grated on my nerves. I think he saw me as soft because I spent a lot of time with my mother. But the truth is, he got a lot of his own advice from her. So really, he was just parroting her words—only when she said them, they were wise. When I echoed the same thoughts, suddenly I was a coward. Or foolish. Or both.
Right now? This was not the best time for the two of us to be alone in a room.
So I took the high road. Decided to be the bigger person. I ignored him and didn’t let the moment grow into something heavier than it already was. We had already talked. I didn’t even know why I was still here.
“How...” my father began.
I gritted my teeth. I really wished he had just shut the hell up.
“It’s just me and you here,” he said. “I need to know you can do this. I need to know that I can trust you.”
“What else do you want from me? We already talked. I already agreed. What more do you want?” I snapped. “I’ll cry. I’ll be a mess. I’ll do everything. I’ll probably even Google how to be such a wuss. I’ll do it all—just to prove how hurt I am with this. Does that make you happy?”
He went quiet, just staring at me. I didn’t know what he was thinking, and honestly, I didn’t give a damn.
“Can I go now? I have an acting career waiting to happen...” I asked, irritated.
“No,” he replied. “There’s one more thing we have to settle before you leave.”
“What is it?”
“Let’s wait for your brother to get back.”
"Just great. Let’s wait for the golden son."
That seemed to get to him. I saw the shift in his expression, and how quickly his mood changed.
“What is your problem?” he asked suddenly. “Where did I go wrong with you?.”
I scoffed. “Is that a real question, or are you joking?”
But he wasn’t joking. He kept going.
“That girl is beautiful. She’s young. She was vibrant before you drove her into drinking.”
I held my stare.
“She was the kind of person that, if you had just sat your head down for a minute and gave her a chance, I really think the two of you would have been a great match. Your mother even approved of her. She thought she was going to be good for you.”
“Well, my mother thinks everybody is good for everyone. She thought Bella was good for Cyrus. How did that turn out? And she thought Sarah was good for Cyrus, too, until Cyrus got with Bella. Then suddenly, she thought Sarah might be good for me. So, yeah, I wouldn’t take her judgment very seriously.”
“The only thing I see you saying,” my father said, “is that your mother thought Sarah was perfect for her son.”
“Which one?” I snapped. “She was just perfect, huh?
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