Chapter 19

‘Something’s going on between dad and Minerva…’

            Those words echoed in Darwin’s mind, prompting him to yield a blank face towards Minerva as he sat beside her.

            It takes a little bit of control to not glare at Minerva, or at his dad.

            The lobster bisque in front of him is so aromatic that it made him tore away his gaze from his soon-to-be Mrs. Gray.

            Darwin had scooped a couple of spoonfuls of the soup when he turned his attention to Minerva. She, too, was having a lobster bisque soup. Except for the fact that she constantly hoists her face and glances at his father. 

His father. The man he respects the most, loves the most, cares the most.

            This made Darwin’s brows furrowed, his lips pursed in a silent emotion. His stomach churned to the thought that…no, his father would never do that to him. Minerva would never do that to him.

            “Nothing is impossible for two souls that are chained by unstoppable emotions,” Jocelyn said to him earlier as he went for a tour with her inside the Chateau Bellerose.

            Darwin was torned between his love for Minerva and his family. He admits that he doesn’t like Jocelyn as his stepmom. But Minerva as his stepmom—the supposed woman who fills his bedroom every night—will be swept away on the feet of Damon Gray is a complete torture for Darwin.

            ‘Shut it, Darwin!’ He scolded himself. Jocelyn saw his face and she smiled like a spider.

            As Jocelyn plastered a wry grin on her face that was bombarded with cosmetics, she slowly let her feet glide onto Darwin’s legs under the table.

            Jocelyn’s eyes narrowed, making Darwin push his chair a little bit from the table.

            “Are you okay, Darwin?” Minerva’s angelic face made his heart leap in joy.

            But the face of Jocelyn…it was as if she was warning him not to be blind of Damon and Minerva’s current “relationship”.

            Jocelyn signaled him to make a scene with his dad. He hesitates—but his body seems to oppose.

Minerva stared at Darwin’s shaking hand as he sliced his beef sirloin.

            “Are you okay, honey?” Minerva asked him in a voiceless manner. Darwin mouthed yes and gave the woman beside him a sheepish smile.

            He glanced at Jocelyn and his stepmom just rolled her eyes.

            Darwin shook his head off of it and continued to munch and feast the food on his plate.

***

Over the course of the dinner, Darwin just constantly nods his head when asked or just spat some phrases when questioned.

            He was not in the mood to talk to anyone, especially when the cause of his sudden shift of mood was just beside him and just across him.

            Technically, all three of them on this table gave him a headache.

            “I’m gonna step outside for some fresh air,” he remarked.

            “Great, son. Do you have a lighter for your cigarette?”

“No.” Damon then handed him the lighter and he just casually accepted it  as if he wasn’t feeling bad at his dad.

            His father always knew the word “fresh air” was another word for smoking. Darwin only smokes when he’s upset.

            “Are you upset, dearest?” He just walked away without answering Jocelyn’s query. He’s already having a headache, and seeing his stepmom made his mind sink deeper into the pit of insanity.       

            The melancholic orchestra was an amazing accompaniment while he enjoyed smoking. But seeing Minerva from afar as she ate a slice of cake…Darwin couldn’t believe himself to be this crazy for a woman. A pregnant woman.

            She may be a debt payment. But he doesn’t see her as an asset. He sees her as a treasure, a glinting diamond in the piles of hay. She was his kryptonite.

            Darwin turned his body away and feasted his sight on the clear night sky above. The crescent moon is shining brightly despite it not being full. He brought his arms on the ledge of the terrace and leaned on it, resting on it. In this manner, he was away from the things that made his mind frenzied.

            “They will not do that to me…” He spoke more to convince himself than to remind his heart.

            “Won’t they?” A voice of a woman interrupted his smoking session.

            “Jocelyn…” Darwin remarked as she stood beside him, a glass of white wine was between her palms.

            “Who else could it be? Your Minerva?” She glanced at their table, to where Minerva was conversing with Damon Gray in a delightful manner. “Huh, I doubt that she will even come to you for the coming days.”

            Jocelyn finished her wine but Darwin grabbed her arm with a ferocious glare on his face. “Say that again, woman. Perhaps you forget, I will never cower to push you from this terrace if you’d forget your place again. You are just my stepmom.”

            She seized her arm away from his tight grip, causing her to get a shoal from her bag and cover the slight redness of her white skin.

            “You’re just upset that your Minerva is more fond of your dad,” Jocelyn smirks, an insulting one. “Not to mention that Damon kept on staring at her picture, the one you gave, every night as if she was Deanna.”

            The echoes of Jocelyn’s fading footsteps was like a loud, disturbing ring on his ears. His father still kept on staring at the picture he gave of her. Every night.

            It was also under the stars that his father kept on staring at her mother’s picture back when he was young. Back when Deanna died young too, a part of Darwin seemed to crumble away with the wind.

            But it was his father who suffered the most. Every night, Damon would weep while staring at Deanna’s picture. And every night, Darwin’s heart would do the same.

            He may not see his flowing sorrowful tears wet the carpet floor—or perhaps he didn’t notice—but his fist would always clenched when he saw his father like that, heard his father like that.

            Now, more than a decade had passed, a vivacious and jolly Damon was seen by the world again. And seeing Minerva’s face, the face of Deanna, made Damon brighter. But to Darwin…it made him more gloomy, more torn apart. Sadness fills the void of his soul like how waters fill an empty dam.

            And if his speculation is true, what Jocelyn said earlier was true, then…then Minerva may be a Mrs. Gray. With his as her stepson.

            He doesn’t care what will happen to Jocelyn. She can easily find a man to hook with anyway.

            But deep inside Darwin, he doesn’t want Minerva to be swept away in another's arms. He doesn’t want to think that his supposed fiancée will be entered by his father instead of him. He doesn’t want to accept the fact, if ever there’s a thing between Damon and Minerva, that the lips of the woman he once tasted will be owned by the man whose existence gave birth to his life.

            Family is family. But love…it’s a dangerous game to play.

            So Darwin sauntered inside the ballroom. Jocelyn and Damon were now beside each other on the little stage as the former gave her words of gratitude to the guests.

            As he stood behind her, who was clemently having another round of ice cream cake, Darwin took a deep breath, holding his broken heart as if it was just a shattered glass. 

            Minerva probably noticed his presence and immediately turned around, beaming at him. “Hi babe!”

            Words seem to vanish on his tongue as he doesn’t know what to say upon Minerva calling him at that endearment.

            “Make love with me, babe.” It was all he could say. The ache on his heart, the tears that he immensely wanted to hold, and the fists that he silently clenched on his either side.

            “But we just recently did,” Minerva reasoned.

            “I just wanna make out with you,” a bitter and forced smile of Darwin Gray made Minerva scowl.

            “Okay then.”

            But before Minerva could fully lift her body from the chair, he grabbed her arm and dragged her away from the crowd, into the nearest empty VIP room.

            And Darwin kissed her. Passionately. 

            Love is never a dangerous game to play. It’s the players that make love vicious in the eyes of the broken-hearted ones.