Page 54 of Enchant Me

Jackson shakes his head. “My next guess would be Ryan but that’s apparently not the case,” he says, nodding toward the glass doors where I can see Ryan and Jamie headed our way.

I grimace, then I start to pull out my phone, only to realize that I don’t have it because I was standing at an altar about to renew my vows. “I’ll be right back. I’m going to go get my phone and see if I can track him.”

“I can do that,” Jackson says.

He opens his phone and it takes only a moment before it finds his signal. “It looks like he’s driving.”

Since the kidnapping, everyone in the family can track everyone else, and in our world family includes our close friends. It’s not a perfect system, but it’s one defense against the craziness that lurks in the world.

I take Jackson’s phone and look at the small dot moving through the canyons. I wait for the tinge of frustration, but it doesn’t come, because I know he’s not running from me. He’s just running. Moving.

I’m certain I know why: Damien has finally done the math, and he realizes what I’ve already concluded—that Ashton Stone really is Damien’s son.

I give him time, but when he hasn’t returned home by nine, I look at the tracking app again, and I’m shocked to find him at the Richter Tennis Center. Or what is now called the West Hollywood Tennis Center, the name having been changed after Damien spoke publicly about what Richter had done to him.

I know he needs time to process, and I consider letting him stay there, periodically watching my phone until he decides to find his way home, but I can’t do it.

Instead, I get into Coop and head toward my husband. Even after I’ve arrived, it takes me a while to find him. I check all the courts, both inside and out, then finally walk the stairs and comb the five floors, peering into all the workout rooms, handball courts, spa areas, and miscellaneous amenities.

The place is mostly empty this late, and the few people I speak with haven’t seen him either, though the app assures me that he’s still on site.

I’m about at my wit’s end, when I realize where I should have gone all along. After all, Richter fell from a roof back in Germany. And wasn’t his death a major link in this chain that has been forged around us?

Sure enough, I find Damien sitting on the tar paper and gravel rooftop, his back leaning against some piece of mechanical equipment. I cross to him, and he looks up. For a moment, his face is entirely blank. Then his mouth curves in a sad smile, and he holds out a hand for me. I go to him, sitting on the roof as well, my hand resting on his leg as I sit facing him.

“I should have seen it the first time I looked at him,” Damien says, his voice so low I have to strain to hear him. “But maybe I didn’t want to see it. Maybe I just never let myself think it was even possible.”

“You were young. You were abused. Those kinds of questions shouldn’t have even been in your head.” Right then, I wish Richter was still alive; I want the pleasure of killing him myself.

Damien studies my face. “You’re certain, too.”

I nod. “The age matches. And he looks so much like you. But there’s a little bit of her there, too.”

He draws a breath, then nods. “Well, we’re both right. Charles has been busy. That envelope that Ashton left, it had the birth certificate and it had a vial of saliva. Plus Ryan grabbed his wine glass from beside his chair. Charles got a lab to rush the test. It’s positive. I’m Ashton Stone’s father, and he fucking hates me.”

“Damien, no.” I press my hand over his, my heart breaking for him.

He only scoffs and shakes his head, as if whether Ashton loves or hates him isn’t even the point. Honestly, I suppose it isn’t.

“I never even knew she was pregnant,” he says, his voice filled with grief. “I was fourteen when we —”

He shakes his head again, and I just lean forward and take his hands. “I know.”

“I would have been fifteen when Ashton was born. How did I not know any of this?”

“You told me the other day that Sofia managed to escape for a while when her grandmother was ill. Her aunt came and took her back to the States, right? Do you think that’s when…?”

His eyes widen. “Yes. Yes, of course.”

“Is Sofia identified as the mother on the birth certificate?”

“Yes. And I’m the father. I didn’t recognize the name of the witness, but Charles has been busy. One of the associate attorneys in his Chicago office went and spoke to her. Abigail. Turns out she’s Richter’s half-sister. She adopted Ashton, and the birth certificate was sealed, although she apparently kept a copy. But the sealed file explains why it’s never come to light in any of my previous scandals.”

He says the last with a rough edge to his voice, and I realize that he’s right. Someone would have dug up Ashton’s relation to Damien before now if those records weren’t sealed.

“Charles has done good work. Was the attorney able to talk to her?”

He nods. “Ashton grew up knowing exactly who I was. Apparently Abigail made a point of telling him that it was a dark family secret.”