Page 51 of The Addendum

“Mr. VanRyan, may I speak with you in private?”

To my shock, he shook his head. “No, you may not.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Whatever you have to say, you can say in front of these people.” He waved his hand. “They are my family, and I have no secrets from them.”

For a moment, there was silence, the tension in the air building.

“I was raised by a single mother,” I said, keeping my gaze focused on him.

He remained silent.

“She refused to tell me about my father. The only thing she said was that he was a narcissistic, unfeeling, selfish asshole she never wanted me subjected to. She also said he wouldn’t have anything to do with me anyway. That he didn’t want me.”

A frown marred his face, replacing the confusion.

“And?” he said.

“My mom died six years ago. She never told me who he was.”

“I’m sorry,” he offered. “But what does that have to do with me?”

“My birth certificate states father’s name as unknown. But my mother knew who you were.”

“Who I was?” he repeated slowly.

“Does the name Juliet Brennan mean anything to you?” I demanded.

His wife gasped, even as Richard’s face remained confused but impassive. He rose to his feet.

“Should it?”

“My mom had a shirt she kept locked away. I recall seeing it when I was younger, and I asked what it was. She said it belonged to my father. She took it away, and I never saw it again until she died.”

I tossed the clear bag onto the table, and he stared at the folded dress shirt, the monogram plain and clear. He touched the bag, his face like thunder, then he pushed it away with his finger.

Our eyes locked, stormy and angry, and I braced myself for his wrath. The group he insisted stay reacted with surprised gasps and some curses, all the men pushing back from the table.

Richard remained silent. Either from guilt or shock—I hadn’t determined that yet.

“You are my father,” I spat. “And I hate you.”

His wife covered her mouth. One of the men hurried over, standing by Richard with his hand on his shoulder. I recognized him from the events but couldn’t place his name. Just then, Luc hurried in, rushing to my side. He looked at the table, his voice low and torn.

“Love, what have you done?” he asked quietly. “You said you were going to give me a chance to do some research.”

“I don’t need any research,” I said.

“I think we need to step back,” the man behind Richard stated in a calm voice. “Let the air cool. Perhaps arrange a meeting in my office.”

“And you are who, exactly?” I demanded.

“Richard’s lawyer,” he replied. “I specialize in family law.”

I wanted to laugh at the absurdity. Only he would have a family lawyer present.

“Of course you’d have a lawyer in your pocket,” I jeered. “You have everything, don’t you, Mr. VanRyan? The family, the friends, the wealth. Pretending your life is perfect. That you’re perfect, when we both know you are anything but.”