Page 14 of Brutal Truths

He casually walks over to the heavy wooden door, his head shaking slowly from side to side. When he turns to face me again, an impish grin forms on his face. “Now, is that any way to speak to your long-lost father? I expected more from you.”

My father?

No. No. No.

He’s wrong. My father was King Ramon. He’s a stranger. This man is wrong. He’s trying to mess with me, and goddammit it’s working. I blame the drugs, but even that doesn’t steady the way everything inside me tilts.

“You’re delusional.”

“Am I?” He puffs on the cigar. “Are you sure about that?”

Am I?

I’ve had my doubts for a while now, but I never imagined them unfolding like this. I always assumed it was the wild imagination of a young girl who felt lost after her parents died. The burden I brought on those who did their best to raise me when they never asked for that responsibility.

And with Gram’s recent ramblings, what I’d pushed back years ago has resurfaced, refusing to stay buried.

Still, I refuse to believe this man. How the hell can he be so sure? And if, for some crazy reason, he ends up being the man who gave me life, I just might be grateful for the choices others made to keep him far away from me.

“Trust me, it was a shock to me as well.” He puffs on the cigar again, blowing rings of smoke around him. “But the second I laid eyes on you in that lift, my gut burned with recognition.”

A wave of nausea rolls through me, bile rising fast enough to make me choke on it.

“Now,” he hisses, venom dripping from his words, “it’s time for them to pay.”

Opening the door, he glances back once more. “Like I said before, you look just like her.”

The door clicks shut, a metallic sound that echoes in the sudden silence, as I struggle to breathe. A rush of memories from the last few days returns.

The words my grandmother spoke, once dismissed as her senility, now resonate with a newfound clarity, revealing a hidden truth.

My mother’s words from my dream.

The way my grandfather used to look at me when I innocently would ask him to tell me about my parents and how they first met.

Is it true?

Has my entire life been one big fat lie?

Deep down, I know the truth.

The answer is yes.

The brutal truth looms around me, and a heavy dread fills my chest and threatens to shatter my world. It twists everything I thought I knew, even the meaning of my broken compass tattoo, the symbol I trusted to point me in the right direction.

Chapter 5

Aiden

My suspicions about Trent being on the road when we talked were correct. He’s not in London. That’s confirmed by where I’m standing now. At his home, delivering the items recovered at Rico’s, just as he requested.

The butler, a tall man with a stern face and quiet demeanor, informs me Mr. Doyle had unexpectedly been called away, and that I should leave my findings in his care.

Fuck that.

Ignoring his suggestion, I turn away and head for my car, the lingering scent of exhaust catching in my nose as I dial Trent.

When he picks up, I don’t bother with pleasantries. “Mind telling me why you had me bring these items to you when you aren’t even home?”