Mated - Chapter 187: Chapter 187

“Excuse me, ma’am,” I called out, stepping back up to the desk.
She exhaled, rolling her eyes like I was the biggest inconvenience of her day. “Yes, Kasmine,” she drawled, her voice laced with exhaustion. “What now?”
I dropped the file on the desk between us. “These records aren’t… sufficient.” I tapped the thin folder with my fingertips, keeping my voice steady even as irritation licked at my nerves. “Some vital information seems to be missing. Is there a mix–up somewhere?”
She didn’t even pretend to care. Her eyes flicked to the file, then back to me, her expression blank with careful disinterest.
“This is all there is on Kester Hamilton’s records,” she said flatly. “I’m sorry.”
The apology was false, lacking any real sincerity. It only fueled the slow burn of frustration rising in my chest.
I leaned in slightly. “I’d like to speak to someone else. A doctor. Someone who was actually in charge of his case.”
I was also losing my patience. I didn’t know what game she was playing, but I wouldn’t let her win.
“You have to leave, or I’ll call security on you, ma’am,” Her tone turned unfriendly.
There it was. The shift.
She wasn’t just annoyed anymore. She was… nervous. Her fingers twitched slightly as she glanced around, her eyes darting toward the nearest security guard stationed near the exit.
Why?
I met her gaze, watching closely. And that’s when I saw it–fear.
It was almost as if they had been compelled to keep Kester’s records hidden from any other person who wasn’t him.
Why did I feel there was more to this woman’s demeanor than meets the eye?
Someone didn’t want these records seen.
The realization sent a sharp pulse of adrenaline through me, but I forced my expression to remain neutral.
Another perfect idea slipped into my head.
I flicked a glance at the clock on the wall. 17:18.
Perfect.
Four more hours until the close of work.
I plastered a smile on my face and met her glare. “Thanks, ma’am. Sorry for bothering you. Do have a splendid day ahead!”
In the actual sense, I wished she’d live the worst day of her life today for treating me the way she just did.
I strode into the living room and was greeted by a troubling sight.
My stepmother sat hunched up on the couch, her shoulders tense, her arms wrapped around herself like she was trying to keep from unraveling. Her eyes–puffy, red–rimmed, glassy–told me everything I needed to know.
Something was wrong.
Across from her, my father sat at the mini wine bar with his fingers curled around a crystal glass of his favorite whiskey. He swirled the amber liquid lazily, taking slow sips with a familiar frown, one I had long stopped giving a damn about.
I ignored him.
If there was ever a moment I felt absolutely nothing for this five–foot–three bastard–the man whose face, whose damn existence, was almost a mirror of my own–it was now.
The resemblance was one that even the blind could see. The same deep, green eyes. The same angular features, carved with an authority that demanded obedience. But where he wore his power like a carefully tailored suit, I was power itself–raw, unpolished, untamed.
The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, they say. But this particular apple? It rolled far, grew sharper and more dangerous edges, and turned into something far worse than the tree had ever intended.
I was the refined, more dangerous version of my father. And the best part? He had no control over it.
Pity.
I walked straight to my stepmother, lowering myself onto the couch beside her. She straightened as if forcing herself to snap out of whatever trance she had been stuck in, then offered me a tight smile. Forced. Weak.
I knew better.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, placing my arm around her shoulder.
Gods, I couldn’t love this woman any less. Each time I am around her, I feel alive with the motherly warmth I almost didn’t grow up to feel.
She is the one I can call my mother.
She shook her head quickly, her fingers tightening around the sleeves of her dress. “It’s nothing, Kester. Really. You should go upstairs and take a shower. You must be tired.”
Tired? Sure. But I wasn’t stupid.
I leaned in slightly. “That doesn’t answer my question.”
She forced another smile, this one even weaker than the last. “I’m fine.”
She wasn’t.
I exhaled, knowing she wouldn’t talk–not now, at least. If there was one thing I had learned over the years, it was that pressing too hard would only make her retreat further.