Page 215 of My Dark Prince
“Well, for starters, I lost.” He scratched his neck, wincing like a gambler who lost his last dollar. “My lawyer filed some paperwork incorrectly, and by the time the court informed us, you were two weeks from turning eighteen. The judge advised that I simply wait until your birthday, since another court case would take far longer than that.”
“I can’t believe I never knew.”
“Something good did come out of the trial.” Cooper sat up straighter, coming to life again. “Phil claimed you weren’t my daughter in court, so I demanded a DNA test.”
My brows knitted together. I squinted at the space beside him as if an answer might be floating in the air. “But I don’t remember taking a DNA test.”
“It would’ve been maybe four months before you turned eighteen.”
“I didn’t –Oh.” I fell back against the leather rest, shocked by my mother’s audacity. “I took a blood test. Philomena sent me to a clinic to get my bloodwork done. She said it was for our new health insurance quote. That must be it.”
“It came back a 99.99% match.”
“And the restraining order? Philomena said she has one against you.”
“No restraining order.” He shrugged, taking yet another one of Philomena’s lies in stride. “I left Argentina on my own a few weeks after the trial ended and my lawyer discovered your address in Geneva. By the time I got there, you’d already left.”
“I moved to another city to find work. I needed to save up for college.”
“After that, I didn’t have a starting point on where to find you. So, it was back to square one.” He shot me a wink. “Onthe bright side, I managed to snag a date with the lawyer who defended me pro bono.”
I couldn’t help but grin. “Melinda?”
I’d known the woman – my stepmom? – for all of five minutes, and I already adored her. The entire journey to the library, she’d cracked jokes, fielded a zillion nosy questions from the twins with practiced ease, and never broke a sweat. The woman was a professional chaos wrangler in mom mode.
“Yes.” Cooper matched my smile with obvious admiration. “She was fresh out of uni at the time and ready to make a name for herself. But she had no experience. Not even as a law clerk or paralegal. Don’t feel bad, though. She’s a shark now.”
I didn’t doubt it.
“How long have you been married?”
“Eleven years. The twins are nine and absolute menaces.” Whenever he spoke about them, he glowed like they’d personally handed him the Nobel Prize. And, I realized, that energy extended to me, too. “We moved to Connecticut shortly after the trial, but I kept searching for you. I flew to Tokyo, Paris, Montreal, Zurich, Riyadh, Budapest. Anywhere I knew you’ve been. I even stumbled upon Surval Montreux, but by that time, you already graduated.”
“And changed my name,” I added, filling in the rest of the missing pieces. “I go by Briar now, and my film credits for work are just listed as Briar. I refuse to put Jason’s last name on anything I take pride in.”
“And you disabled your social media, changed your old phone numbers, and switched email addresses.”
“I didn’t want my parents to contact me. Not that they tried.”
“Every holiday season, Melinda and I take the kids to search for their sister. They love it.” He laughed, his eyes far off, trapped in a memory I couldn’t see. “Rose acts like it’s a treasure hunt. Brian used to, too, but he’s at the phase where merely existing is a chore.”
I joined his infectious laughter, thinking back to Brian’s sour pout. “More like everyone else’s existence is a chore.”
It struck me that I’d stumbled my way into an inside joke.
This, I realized,must be what family feels like. A secret language – built from a million tiny moments – that only we speak.
And somewhere along the way, Oliver and Sebastian had lost their fluency, letting it gather dust in the darkest corners of their hearts. I wondered how much Ollie missed it. Being accepted as a brother and son. Just one taste, and I’d already become addicted to being part of my family.
I rubbed the back of my neck, casting my eyes down to my sneakers. “Why did you keep searching for me even after you found out that I’m not your daughter?”
“Those bastards.”
My head whipped up. “Excuse me?”
“Jason and Philomena.” Their names dripped off his tongue like venom. His grip tightened on the edge of the sofa. “If those two ever showed you an ounce of the love you deserve, you wouldn’t be asking that question.”
I fidgeted on the cushion, caught between my desire to accept his comfort and the instinct to guard my heart. “What do you mean?”
