Page 216 of Law Maker
Blood roared in my ears. “My father’s? Is that what you’re saying?”
Miguel nodded. “She told him she thought you were his, but she wasn’t sure. I saw your pictures with Russell’s daughter in a magazine. I wasn’t going to tell you any of this, but if the two of you are together, you need to know. I already feel guilty enough.”
“No way.” I shook my head. “Look at me. I’m Dad’s copy. Always have been. I can’t be Russell’s.” Maybe my mother wanted me to be, but one glance at me was enough for anyone to see whose son I was.
“I’m pretty sure you’re Sergio’s,” Miguel said. “He wasn’t going to do a paternity test. He said you were his son, and he was most definitely right. You look like him. You race like him. But if there’s even a tiny chance we’re wrong, I’d rather you knew.”
“So, nothing was wrong with his bike?” I whispered. “He was just so upset he made a mistake?” My voice broke on the last syllable. I blinked away the blur in my eyes.
“The bike was fine,” Miguel said.
I steepled my hands together. They shook. Twenty-four years of my life—nothing but a string of lies. How could my mother be so good at lying?
It wasn’t only about me. It was about Kaia and her mom. Her father neglecting her all her damn life. None of this was fair.
“I’m so sorry,” Miguel said. “Every year I bought you a birthday gift, and every year I hated myself for not reaching out. Sergio would’ve wanted me to take care of you, and I let both of you down.”
Resentment filled me, bitter and sharp. “You did. I deserved to know earlier. I didn’t fucking deserve to wonder why. I would’ve preferred the truth. You were worried about my relationship with my mother, but you never even asked if we got along.”
“I wanted you to have someone. Losing one parent was bad enough. I didn’t want you to lose both.”
I slumped against the back of the chair, exhaustion sinking into my limbs. If only I could close my eyes and go back to when I knew nothing.
“Is it serious with Kaia?” Miguel asked.
“Yes.”
“Then you need to…”
Break the heart of the girl I adored all over again. Just when we’d bothbegun to heal. Right after I’d asked her to move in with me. Doing the right thing sucked, but I owed it to her.
To us.
To Dad.
CHAPTER SIXTY-SIX
Asher
It was already dark in Stetbourg.
I parked in Russell’s driveway, pulled the bag with the paternity test kit from the tank bag, and swung off the bike.
My eyes burned from lack of sleep, my chest hollow from his and my mother’s betrayal.
On the flight back to the States, I’d rehearsed what I’d say to them. I’d planned to pour every ounce of rage and disappointment into a speech. But the second I got off the plane, I deflated.
I’d spent years resenting my mother. After Dad’s death, all I wanted was to feel understood, to believe I still had a family—someone in my corner. Instead, I watched her rebuild her life, move on with another man, erase her past with Dad as if it never mattered.
Now I finally knew why.
It was heartbreakingly unfair, but nothing I did would change the fact Dad was gone. She was with Russell. And if I didn’t put in the work to close this wound, it would fester until it destroyed me—until I forgot the kind of life Dad would’ve wanted for me.
The only thing between me and a future not poisoned by hate was the truth. I needed proof I was Dad’s. I needed my mother to see I was his, not Russell’s.
Clutching the kit, I strode to the front door and knocked instead of ringing the bell. A few seconds later, my mother appeared.
It was dinnertime. Garlic and herbs drifted from the kitchen. Slow music hummed from the dining room. I was about to shatter their romantic bubble.
