Page 120 of Shadow

“Destiny.” Daphne moved past him. “Put down the lamp. Talk to me. What’s going on?”

“What’s going on?” Destiny laughed. Harsh. Bitter. The sound scraped against Asher’s ears. “What’s going on is that my son is trying to kill us. He’s the mole. All this time, he’s the mole!”

“Everybody just stay calm!” Daphne didn’t know how to untangle Destiny’s accusation in her head, but maybe that didn’t matter right now. “Destiny, put the lamp down.”

Destiny froze, eyes blazing with fury and betrayal. The lamp still raised above her head, ready to throw.

Her arms trembled. The lamp wavered. Then she lowered it. Not setting it down, just lowering it to her side. Still holding it. Still ready.

“Roger,” Daphne said quietly. “What does she want you to tell us?”

Roger looked at them. “I’m not the mole.”

“Whatever.” Destiny rounded back to them. “Draven wasn’t just Ralph’s business partner,” she said. “He’s Ralph’s son. My stupid husband had an affair with his secretary. Oldest story written. Eleanor Frost got pregnant. Ralph paid her off, bought her a house, kept her quiet. He never acknowledged Draven publicly. But he groomed him. Brought him into the business. Made him his real heir while Roger was just…” Her mouth pinched. “Just the adopted son who was never good enough.”

“Ouch, Mom.”

She turned back to him. “I’m sorry, Roger. But that’s the truth. And—” She set the lamp down. “And that’s why he’s been trying to draw Draven in. So he can kill me, then Roger can kill him and…well, Roger wants to be king, doesn’t he?”

Roger’s mouth opened.

And it seemed that something inside him snapped. His eyes darkened, and for a second, Daphne thought he might actually come to blows with his mother.

Sheesh, talk about family drama.

“Fine. Yes, Draven is my brother,” he said. “My half brother. Ralph’s only blood-related son. But Ralph didn’t abandon Draven. Didn’t pay off his mother and disappear. That’s the story my mother tells. Maybe what she believes. But it’s not true.”

Daphne glanced at Destiny, who folded her arms across herself, her eyes hard.

“What is true?” Asher said, beside her.

And she absolutely would not—at least right now—think about how it felt to have his hands in her hair, kissing her back like…like she might actually be the wife she’d been pretending to be. Honeycakes. Sweetums. Sugarpie.

Daph.

Later.

“Eleanor took Draven and ran when he was six months old. Changed her name. Changed his name. Disappeared completely.” His voice shook. “Ralph spent years looking for them. Hired investigators. Spent thousands. He didn’t abandon them. He couldn’t find them.”

“Why did she run?” Daphne asked.

“Because she was scared. Ralph was—” Roger stopped. Breathed. “Ralph was into dark things even then, starting to build the syndicate.”

“Ralph was the syndicate boss?” Asher said. “That doesn’t…” He frowned.

And Daphne saw him doing the math, ticking through the files in his brain. He must have landed on something, because his mouth pursed, and he glanced at Destiny. “Did you know?”

Her mouth opened. “Apparently, I don’t know anything.”

“How did you find this out?” Daphne asked.

“Three years ago, Draven found us. Showed up.” Roger’s voice turned hard. “And Dad was so happy. So relieved. He’d spent decades looking for his son. And his son had finally come home.”

“But it wasn’t a happy reunion.”

“No. Because Draven was angry. Furious. He’d spent his whole life believing his father had abandoned him. Believing Ralph had paid his mother off and never looked back. Eleanor had told him that story. Fed him that lie his entire childhood.”

He lifted a shoulder. “Dad tried to tell him the truth. And maybe Draven believed him—I don’t know. Dad tried to make it up to him. Tried to give him everything. Brought him into the business. Taught him. Groomed him.”