Page 32 of Ex- Factor

Dr. Bailey’s office always smelled the same—cedar and paper—but it didn’t feel the same.

I was slouched on his couch, one leg bouncing, eyes locked on the bookshelf like if I stared long enough, the spines might rearrange themselves into answers.

Eshe sat beside me, her hand warm against my thigh.

I loved Eshe. God, I did. But I didn’t want her here.

This was my church. My confessional. And I wanted to be the only member.

She had just finished telling me about her encounter with my father. The mahogany desk. The envelope. The hundred grand. The “legacy” speech. With every detail, a cold, familiar rage began to burn in my gut. It was an old friend, that feeling. The one that made me want to break things.

Dr. Bailey steepled his fingers. “Silas? How are you feeling right now?”

I looked from the therapist to the woman I loved. The rage was a fire, but her face was a bucket of cold water. She’d stood up to him. For me. She’d looked that powerful, terrifying man in the eye and told him no.

A laugh burst out of me. Harsh, surprised even me. “You should’ve taken the money.”

Eshe’s jaw dropped. “Really?”

“I’m serious.” I leaned forward, elbows on my knees. “You should’ve said yes, taken the cash, and then just... never left. What’s he gonna do, sue you for breach of verbal contract? He’d have to admit he tried to pay you off. That’s a hundred K you could’ve blown on me.”

I was joking. Mostly. It was the only way I knew how to process it without letting the rage out. If I let it out, it would consume everything.

Eshe stared at me, then a slow smile spread across her face. “Angel said you’d say the exact same thing.”

Dr. Bailey almost smiled. “So you’re not angry?”

“Oh, I’m pissed,” I said, the humor fading from my voice. “Angry that he’s still trying to pull my strings. That he thought he could get to me through her. That he looked at the best thing that’s ever happened to me and saw a transaction.” I looked at Eshe. “Are you okay?”

She nodded, her shoulders relaxing. “It didn’t bother me at all. The worst part was trying to figure out how to tell you without you crashing out.”

The rest of the session was a blur. We talked about boundaries. Dr. Bailey called what my father did a “profound violation.” I called it “some typical Rutherford bullshit.” We were both right.

We left the office, and I laced my fingers through Eshe’s. Her hand was warm and solid in mine. The sun was too bright. The world felt too normal after the bomb she’d just dropped.

“So,” she said, squeezing my hand. “What now?”

“Now,” I said, pulling her closer, “we go about our day.” I wasn’t wasting a Saturday with her thinking about my father.

And we did. We got lunch at some expensive Thai place Eshe had wanted to try.

We picked up Ekon and went to the park and watched him try to feed his entire peanut butter sandwich to a pigeon.

I even managed to answer a few emails. I was fine.

I was handling it. The rage was a low simmer, a pilot light in my chest, but it was under control. I was a new man. A therapized man.

But the whole day, in the back of my head, was a single, persistent thought: He contacted her. He was in the same room as her. He could have hurt her. I never thought Eshe would actually take him up on his offer, but still... the violation of it itched under my skin.

As we were getting ready to figure out dinner, something in me snapped. The image of him sitting across from her, sliding that envelope like she was a problem to be solved, flashed behind my eyes. The pilot light flared.

“I gotta run out for a second,” I said, my voice casual. “Forgot I had to... check on something for Ekon. His birthday coming up...”

She looked up, a slight frown on her face. “Right now? Dinner’s almost ready.”

“I’ll be back before it’s done.” I kissed her, quick. “Promise.”

I jumped in the car and hurried out of the driveway.

Donte was driving into his house next door when I left.

That annoyed me—his presence a reminder of the normal, domestic life I was supposedly heading toward, while I was actively driving away from it.

My hands were steady on the wheel, though.

The GPS said it would take forty-five minutes to get to my parents’ vacation house on the water. I made it in thirty.

The house was a monster of glass and steel, looming over the dark water like a spaceship that had landed and decided to stay. Every light was on. Of course.

I killed the engine and just sat there for a minute, watching.

The pilot light in my chest was a bonfire now.

All the calm from the day was gone, burned away by the drive.

This was who I was. This was the old Silas, the one who burned bridges just to feel the heat.

This is who I was trying to get rid of. And yet—my father wanted this version of me.

If he didn’t, why would he have contacted her?

This was the feeling I had the night I saw Solomon enter the house that Ekon lived in, looking like he was ready to murder someone. A primal, possessive fury.

I got out of the car. The air smelled like salt. My footsteps crunched on the crushed-shell driveway. I didn’t have a plan. I was just going to walk up to that giant glass door and—

“What the fuck are you doing here?” a voice drawled from the shadows.

I froze. Cassius stepped out from behind a giant live oak, arms crossed, looking disappointed. A second later, Jonas materialized on my other side, leaning against the car like he’d been there the whole time.

“What the hell are you two doing here?” I snarled, my fists clenching.

“Preventing you from getting a murder charge,” Jonas said, pushing off the car. “And saving you from yourself. Again.”

“Eshe called,” Cassius said, walking toward me. “The second you left. Said you had that look in your eye—the one that says you’re about to do something stupid and irreparable.” He stopped in front of me. “We broke every speeding law known to man to get here before you did.”

“Maybe you should’ve married Angel,” Cassius joked, a grim smile on his face. “She said you’d end up right here before the night was over. We’ve been waiting all day for Eshe to call and say you snapped.”

I stared at them, the fight draining out of me all at once, leaving me hollow and tired.

They knew. They all knew me better than I knew myself.

The therapy, the progress... it was all just a thin veneer.

Underneath, I was still the same explosive bastard, ready to torch my entire life over a slight.

Cassius clapped a heavy hand on my shoulder. “He’s not worth it, brother. He’s not worth your freedom. He’s not worth having to see Ekon and Eshe through prison glass.”

“Let’s go get a drink,” Jonas said. “A real one. And we can talk about your feelings if you want. We’ll listen if we have to. It’ll be more tolerable after some whiskey.”

I looked past them at the stupid, beautiful house. I pictured my father inside, probably sipping a scotch, completely unaware that his son was standing in his driveway—and that two of my friends, the brothers he’d never understand, had just saved us all from me.

I took a deep breath. The salt air didn’t feel like money anymore. It just felt cold.

“Yeah,” I said, my voice rough. “A drink sounds good.”

I let them lead me back to the car. I didn’t look back.