Page 24 of Absolution (Infidelty #3)

Kyle

My time with my mom has been… strange. A good kind of strange, though. Having to tell her Jackie left me because I cheated was painful, but necessary. I couldn’t risk her saying something to the kids without knowing the truth, even if it made her see me as him.

She stayed the whole week. Spent time with the kids. With me. The girls were thrilled, Jemma and Iris even decided to bunk in one room so mom could keep sleeping in Jemma’s bed. It felt like a snapshot of something softer. Something we never had when I was a kid.

I just got back from dropping the kids at Jackie’s. It’s still weird, calling what used to be my house hers. Like I’m visiting a past life.

When I walk in, I see all her bags by the door. She arrived with one. She’s somehow leaving with three.

“Wait, you’re leaving?”

She nods.

“Yes, it’s time.”

“I’ll drop you at the airport,” I offer.

She waves it off.

“No, sweetheart. You’ve got work. It’s fine. I've already called a cab and its nearly here.”

I watch her for a moment, not ready for her to go. She’s standing taller these days, less glass-fragile than I remembered. Before her cab arrives, she walks over and puts a hand on my cheek.

“You’re not like him, you know,”

she says softly.

“Mom…”

I begin, but she cuts me off.

“No. The way you are with those kids, the way you took responsibility for what happened with Jackie… You’re not like him. And you’re not like me either. You’re someone better. Someone I could only ever hope for you to become.”

I swallow hard.

“I’m sorry I disappointed you.”

She smiles gently.

“Sweetie, no one can be perfect. No matter what I think. The closest we get is taking responsibility. Owning our mess and trying to do better. And you are doing better.”

I nod, not trusting my voice. She kisses my forehead, like she used to when I was little, and walks out the door just before the first tear drops.

For once, I don’t feel like a boy shrinking under her judgment.

I feel like a man she finally sees.

My appointment with Dr. Nina isn’t until tomorrow. I can’t wait to tell her. Laughing to myself, I walk into the bedroom to get dressed. I feel like I’m in third grade again, rushing home to tell Grandma I made a new friend at school.

Grandma.

That’s another thing.

All my memories of her are fond. I adored her. She smelled like vanilla and always had my favourite cereal in the cupboard. I think I started worshipping my dad because she did. The way she spoke about him, like he could do no wrong, like he walked on water, it sank into me early. Shaped how I saw him. How I saw men.

And now? I feel guilty for loving her. For loving someone who made my mother’s life hell. Who took her only child and decided she wasn’t good enough to raise him. Who made sure I never heard her side.

She made my mom’s life miserable. And she loved me.

Both of those things are true. I don’t know how to hold them at the same time.

But tomorrow, I’ll try. Today, I go to work.

I love my job. It’s the one thing that’s never failed me.

I did try to nix the merger with my father’s firm, I thought it’d be simple. Clean break. Strategic differences.

But it wasn’t that simple.

Turns out, we had financial issues. Big ones. That’s the real reason the partners even considered the merger in the first place, something I wasn’t told until much later, after I’d already started making noise about pulling the plug. Being a senior partner doesn’t mean full transparency, apparently. Not when the cracks are deep and the foundation’s already starting to shift.

The truth came out in bits: an internal audit flagged discrepancies. One of the original name partners, retired now, had been skimming for years. Quietly. Smartly. By the time anyone caught on, he was dead. Gone with the money and the paper trail. No clean recovery, no public admission, just damage control and whispered meetings behind closed doors.

I was pissed. But not surprised.

They didn’t want the authorities involved. Too big a scandal. Too much risk. If word got out, it wouldn’t just sink us, it would destroy us.

So yeah, it was too late to stop the merger. The contracts were already in motion. The press releases half-written. My father’s name already worming its way into the firm.

But what I could do, what I did do, was step away from being the point person for it. No business trips. No more strategy calls. No more pretending I believed this was in anyone’s best interest but his.

I’m back to doing what I love now. Contracts. Depositions. Trials, though those are rare these days. Almost everything ends in a number. A settlement. A payout. Everyone’s got a price, even if they don’t admit it right away.

I’m good at what I do. Better than I’ve ever been.

Because now I know who I am.

And more importantly?

Who I’m not.

I’m in the middle of a deposition, opposing counsel is droning on about billing discrepancies, when my phone buzzes. I ignore it at first. Then it buzzes again.

Private number.

Excusing myself, I step into the hallway, and answer.

“This is Kyle Greyson.”

“Mr. Greyson, this is Austen Preparatory,”

a woman says. Her voice is tight. Controlled, but urgent.

“We’ve been trying to reach Mrs. Greyson and haven’t been able to. We need you to come to the school.”

My spine straightens.

“What happened?”

“I can’t discuss details over the phone,”

she says.

“But we need you here as soon as possible.”

Then she hangs up.

No more information. No names. No assurance. Just as soon as possible.

Rushing inside, I mutter.

“Family emergency,”

to the room, not slowing down. I head straight for my office, snatch up my briefcase without breaking stride, and I’m back out the door in seconds. The elevator takes too long, so I take the stairs two at a time.

By the time I reach the parking garage, my heart’s pounding. I toss the briefcase into the back seat and slide behind the wheel, pulling out like the building’s on fire.

The feeling is too familiar, too damn close. My heart slams against my ribs like it’s trying to break out of my chest. Last time I was in this kind of panic, I lost a son. Oh God.

I blow through every red light, every speed limit sign, my hands clenched on the wheel like I can force the world to slow down if I just grip hard enough. By the time I screech into the parking lot of Austin Prep, my breathing is shallow, my palms are soaked, and every worst-case scenario I’ve ever imagined is clawing at the back of my mind.

I barely slam the door shut behind me before I’m through the double doors of the main building. The receptionist at the front desk calls something out, but I don’t hear it, I’m already turning the corner to the administrative wing.

Outside the principal’s office, the bench is occupied by all three of my kids. Jemma and Iris sit on either side of Levi, each looking stubbornly away from the other, arms folded tight. Levi’s eyes meet mine immediately, his face pale but calm.

I crouch in front of them, voice low, breath still catching.

“Are you okay? Levi?”

He gives me a short nod.

I glance at the girls.

“Jem? Iris?”

They both nod too, but their expressions shift. They must see it on my face, the panic, the storm behind my eyes because guilt sets in fast.

“We’re fine,”

Jemma says quickly. “Really.”

“We’re okay, Dad,”

Iris adds, eyes down.

Before I can ask more, the office door creaks open behind me and out steps Principal Williams, grey hair, thick glasses, a suit that hasn’t been fashionable since the early 2000s.

“Mr. Greyson,”

he begins, tone formal.

“would you mind stepping into my office? Just for a moment. Alone.”

I glance at the kids. Levi gives me a look like he’s trying to say it’s okay. Jemma won’t meet my eyes. Iris folds in on herself.

I nod.

“Stay right here.”

Inside the office, the air is cold, the overhead light buzzing faintly. Principal Williams gestures to a chair across from his desk, then sits down with the weight of a man who’s been doing this too long.

He folds his hands on the desk.

“The reason we called you is because there was a physical altercation during recess. Jemma and Iris were involved in an incident with another student from their class.”

My stomach drops.

“What kind of altercation?”

He exhales through his nose.

“They got into a fight. A fairly aggressive one. Levi and two staff members had to intervene to separate them.”

I blink. “What?”

Williams keeps going, voice calm but stern.

“While we understand emotional stress, this behaviour is serious. The other student’s parents will be notified. We were hoping to speak with Mrs. Greyson, but couldn’t reach her, which is why we contacted you.”

I clench my jaw.

“You called me and said I had to get here immediately. No context. Do you have any idea what that did to me?”

He raises a brow.

“My son-”

I stop, trying to breathe through it.

“I thought something happened. You don’t get it… I’ve already lost a child. You can’t call someone like that. Not without telling them what’s going on.”

His posture slumps, just a little.

“I… I apologize. That was not our intention. You’re absolutely right, we should have handled that differently.”

I exhale sharply, grounding myself.

“So, what happens now?”

“I’m recommending a one-day suspension for Jemma and Iris. No record, just time to cool off. They’ll be allowed back the day after. They will also need to apologise to the student and teachers.”

I nod, stiffly. “Fine.”

We step out together. The kids are still there, exactly how I left them, Levi straight-backed, Jemma chewing her lip, Iris gripping the hem of her shirt.

“Let’s go,” I say.

They get up slowly, silently. And we leave. I don’t ask what happened yet. Not in the hallway. Not in front of these walls. Not until I know they’re ready to talk.

By the time we get home, I’m doing everything in my power not to explode. I keep reminding myself: don’t yell, don’t assume, don’t pull a dad. Not yet.

I park in Jackie’s driveway, and wait for the kids to get off before answering my buzzing phone.

“Kyle, what happened?”

Jackie asks right away, worry already threaded through her voice.

“The school called me and then wouldn’t say anything except you picked the kids up.”

“I don’t have the full picture yet,”

I say, dragging a hand over my face.

“Apparently Jemma and Iris got into a fight with another kid. At recess.”

“Jesus,”

she mutters.

“I was in the middle of my practical when they called.”

“They’re okay,”

I say quickly.

“And yeah, I, uh… brought them to your house. Figured it was still their week with you. Hope that’s okay.”

“Of course,”

she says. Then after a beat.

“Kyle… my practical isn’t done yet. Would you mind staying with them… just, until I get back?”

I don’t even think twice.

“You don’t have to ask. Of course.”

Another pause. Then I say.

“Good luck, Jackie.”

“Thanks,”

she says and hangs up.

I step inside and immediately notice how quiet it is. Too quiet. Backpacks dumped near the stairs. Shoes tossed. But no sound. No sign of life.

I set my keys down and call up the stairs, firm but even.

“Living room. Now.”

A moment later, three sets of footsteps shuffle reluctantly down. Jemma’s hugging a throw pillow. Iris is scowling at the carpet. Levi’s walking like a little soldier in between them, eyes flicking back and forth like he’s about to step on a landmine.

They sit on the couch like they’re waiting for sentencing.

I take a seat opposite them. Exhale.

“Which one of you wants to start?”

I ask, calm. Controlled. Still holding the reins.

Silence.

“Jem?”

I try again.

She shifts.

“It wasn’t a big deal.”

“Doesn’t look like not a big deal.”

She sighs dramatically.

“Tracy Collins said something. At recess.”

“What did she say?”

Iris mutters.

“Stuff about Mom.”

“What kind of stuff?”

I press gently.

Jemma bites her lip, glancing at Iris, then finally blurts.

“She said Mom had a sleepover. With their neighbour, Lucas.”

My heart drops, but I stay quiet.

“She said it all smug,”

Iris snaps.

“Like she wanted people to hear. Said her mom told her. And then she was like, ‘guess your mom likes playing house next door now.’”

I clench my jaw.

“So then what happened?”

“She said Mom was easy,”

Jemma explodes.

“That Lucas probably doesn’t even like kids and Mom was just desperate.”

I rub a hand over my face.

“So, you punched her?”

“No!”

Iris says quickly. Then, lower.

“Well… not at first.”

“I threw a juice box at her,”

Jemma mumbles.

“She dodged it,”

Iris adds, as if that makes it better.

“And then what?”

Levi looks down at his shoes.

“She said Lucas would be our new step-dad.”

The air in the room shifts. Dense now. Heavy.

“She said he’d never let us see you again,”

Iris whispers.

My chest tightens.

“She said what?”

“That’s when I went for her,”

Jemma says flatly.

“I don’t regret it.”

I lean forward, elbows on my knees, trying to keep my voice even.

“You know that would never happen, right? Your mom and I, we’d never let that happen. You’d always see me.”

Jemma scoffs.

“What?”

I ask gently.

“Shut up, Jemma,”

Iris mutters.

Jemma doesn’t. She lifts her chin.

“Why do you even trust her anymore? She broke our family.”

My heart stutters. “What?”

Jemma folds her arms tight.

“I know Mom asked for the divorce. I know you didn’t want it.”

“Jem-”

Iris tries, but she’s cut off.

“Shut up, Jemma,”

Levi snaps this time. Firmer. Sharper than I’ve ever heard him.

I sit up straighter.

“Who told you that?”

Jemma looks away.

“No one. We heard Mom. Talking to Aunt Marianne. She said she didn’t think you’d give her the divorce that easy.”

She pauses. Then looks at me again, eyes hard.

“She broke us. And now she’s dating.”

Now all three of them are watching me. Waiting. Like the truth is a choice I have to make in real time. And I know, I know, this is the moment where I could protect my image. I could stay the good guy. Let them blame Jackie.

But I won’t.

I can’t let history repeat itself.

I take a breath and say, steady.

“The reason your mom asked for the divorce… is because I cheated on her.”

They all just stare at me.

“I hurt her. A lot.”

My voice cracks, but I don’t stop.

“And she didn’t deserve it. She gave everything to this family. To you. To me. And I broke that. She didn’t break our family. I did.”

No one moves. Not even Levi.

“I’m not proud of it. I wish I could undo it, but I can’t. What I can do is be honest. And show up. And love you the way you deserve to be loved.”

Jemma’s jaw is tight. Iris is blinking fast like she’s holding something back. Levi doesn’t look away. Doesn’t flinch. Just nods slowly.

“I asked her not to tell you,”

I add.

“I wanted to tell you myself, but I was scared… I needed time. And your mom… she gave me that time. That’s the kind of mom she is. Stronger than you know.”