Then Jay speaks.
“So why is it that the outsider hasn’t been honest with us?”
All heads turn to me.
My stomach drops. I swear, I’ve never felt this exposed, this small.
“JAY, THAT’S ENOUGH!”Tom grabs my hand. Without a second thought, he’s leading me out of the living area.
“Tom!” Jay’s tone carries a possessive authority. It’s enough to make Tom stop, even though we’re already halfway to the front door. He turns back to face his brother.
Jay smiles. “I don’t think Yosh’s been honest with you.”
My heart slams uncontrollably against my ribs. He knows. Jay knows. And in seconds, Tom will know too. I’m about to throw up.
“The NDA you signed yesterday is invalid, but you already knew that when you signed it, didn’t you?”
A ripple of gasps moves through the room. I keep my eyes locked on the floor, unable to meet Jay’s triumphant stare, the family’s judgment, or worst of all, Tom’s eyes.
“It is valid,” I mumble.
“What was that? Speak up! We can’t hear you.” Jay’s pushing me. He’s pushing me into a corner with nowhere to go.
I fold my arms tighter, unsure whether to explain myself or run, cut my way out at the south fence like Calvin instructed
“Nothing to say, Joshua?”
My name.
Tom’s eyes are burning into the side of my face. I don’t need to look to know he’s staring at me in shock. But I do look at Effy, and disappointment is written in her eyes.
Jay keeps going in a smooth, mean tone. “I ran a full background check on you. My first thought? Gold digger. But no, that seems to be the least of your motives for clinging to my brother, right?”
He’s twisting the knife in my gut, slower and slower with every passing second. Then he rips it out of my body.
“Everyone, meet Joshua Fennbrae, son of none other than the tech billionaire Alistair Fennbrae!”
The silence that follows stretches like an eternity. No one makes a sound until Eli huffs to break the tension.
“I have no idea who that billionaire sir might be, but that name sounds very Scottish to me.”
Fuck.
Joan steps forward. “I once dated this guy—Callum Fennbrae—and I swear, their tartan was the most beautiful I’ve ever seen. It would’ve matched my dream wedding dress perfectly.”
“We don’t have a tartan.”
“Great-grandad is Irish. You never paid attention to Jay’s history lessons, did you?”
“Neither did you, Irish do have tartans.”
“It sounds like our last name, but like…more real. More original, you get what I mean?”
“So, you’re basically saying that the outsider is actually the most Scottish person in this room?”
“It’s not like our last name, you idiot.”
“Could he be from the Highlands?”
