Author's note-
I would like to thank everyone who left a review and liked the story! Here's the second chapter. I hope you all like it! Do leave a review!
Chapter 2
POV- Christian
HOLY FUCK.
That's my son.
MY SON.
It has to be. It just has to be.
And she hid this from me. All those years I spent pondering over how she probably aborted the baby, she didn't. She kept it. She kept him. How in the world did she think she could get away with this? Well she did Grey, for five whole years, I think to myself.
"Sir, is that?..is that-", Taylor stammers.
"Yes Taylor. That's Anastasia. And that's my son. Who she hid from me for five whole fucking years", I say through my gritted teeth.
"Sir, calm down. Let's think this through. Maybe…maybe he isn't your son...maybe..." Taylor says visibly shocked.
"OH REALLY TAYLOR? ISN'T IT FUCKING OBVIOUS?! LOOK AT HIM! HE IS MINE. HE LOOKS EXACTLY LIKE I DID WHEN I WAS A KID! FUCK HER PRIVACY! THAT'S MY SON AND I NEED TO KNOW HIM", I scream, almost ready to burst with pure anger.
"Sir, you can't meet him now. Do you want your son to know his father as the man who screamed and threatened his mother? We need to go back to the hotel and think this through", Taylor says, eerily calmly. Over the past few years Taylor has gotten pretty close to me. Some would call him my confidante and damn if he wasn't so right all the time.
"Fine", I say and think about how Anastasia Steele's perfect little bubble is about to burst.
Upon reaching the hotel I straight away call Welch. "Welch I need all info on Anastasia Steele. I want to know where she lives what she eats and who she fucks", I say curtly.
"Sir, but you told us never to-", he says but I cut him off, "Fuck what I said Welch. She has a son. MY SON. And I have the right to know everything", I say, still bursting with rage.
"Right away sir", Welch says without missing a beat. I begin to pace around the room, unable to control my restlessness. It'll take Welch about a day to come up with all the information. What shall I do till then? Should I talk to Mother? I can't. Not yet. I instead call Taylor and tell him to cancel my jet and extend my stay at the Brown which he has already done. He's so damn resourceful and cares for me in his own way. Which you don't deserve, I think sub-consciously. I then Googled the name of the kid's school. Seems to be one of the nicest ones in London. School timings are from 8:30 to 3 pm which is when I saw them. Hmm...I wonder if the school takes generous donations…
_THE NEXT DAY_
POV- Charlie
Why do birds fly? And bees sting? Why is it that the color red called red?
All day, such strange questions pop in my head like little butterflies that sit on flowers. Some mates call me "wacky!" because I don't like to play with sand. Sand makes me clothes dirty. I dream about sand monsters coming after my lolly. I love lollies. They make me smile. Misha likes lollies too. We always eat them together. She too thinks I'm wacky. Ms. Morley calls me a 'genius'. I know what that means.
I opened mum's dictionary and saw the meaning. Sometimes my mates stare at me when I recite my essay. Is talking about universe, the stars, and the constellations bad? Mum told me that it was brilliant. I have heard her talking Ms Morley though they talk in hushed tones. About me being a genius. Again that word. About how Mum should think about letting me join higher grades. I don't want to leave Misha or any of my other mates. I like solving grade 9 maths problems but I don't want to sit with them in their class. They are meanies. I have told mum that I don't want to sit in their class. They are so big.
Mum always lets me read her manuscripts and look for words that I don't understand. She always buys me the thickest of problem solving books and my favourite toys. She is always smiling around me. Never sad. But I know that sometimes at night she cries. I hear her crying. Maybe she thinks about Dad. She never talks about him.
Yesterday was Misha's birthday she went to her Grandmama's house so I couldn't meet her after school. I made her a painting of the Andromeda. Mum says I paint like a "maestro" another word I saw in the dictionary.
Today I sit alone, licking my lolly. My mates are playing on the swings. Mrs. Morning our headmistress is on the rounds with a man. He looks like he is searching for something. She is bringing him to the grounds. He is wearing a very nice suit. One that I would like to wear. He even has hair like mine.
"That's alright you can go deal with the issue, I'll help myself", the man says. He is American like Mum.
He is strolling around and stops in front of me. I look up. He looks like me a little.
"Hello, may a take a seat next to you?" he says.
"You may", I say licking my lolly. How I love this strawberry lolly.
"So- hi I'm-", he begins to say when three of the biggest bullies stroll by behind me and push me to the ground. My lolly is dirty now. I can't eat it. Oh no. I can't' cry in front of this man.
The man immediately tries to help me stand up. He is very tall. I signal him to not. I don't like taking people's help. I push up from the floor and dust my clothes. "These bigger kids they never change do they?" he says. He thinks I'm going to cry. But I won't. I don't like to cry.
So I square my shoulders and hold out my hand," Hello my name is Charlie Steele. How do you do?"
POV- Christian
And that along with his dimples were enough to melt my cold cold heart.