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“Enough!” I warn, not wanting to hear those words leave her deceitful lips.
“Please, Punky, understand it from my point of view. This”—she gestures around us—“is all because you wanted to protect your mom when you couldn’t, but I have that chance. Please don’t hate me for it. I swear to you, I tried to stop this when I had the chance. I tried to protect you, even when I knew I was putting my mom and my sister at risk.
“I told you about the police coming to your house because…because I was the one who planted the drugs. Brody threatened my mom if I didn’t do it! But I felt guilty. I couldn’t do that to you. So I told you the truth.”
I shake my head, disgusted with myself
“I gave you back your brooch even though I got whipped for it.”
Why did they want my ma’s brooch? And now I know why she got those welts—because of me.
“How can I trust a word that comes outta yer mouth?” I question, angry with myself for not seeing her for what she is.
“Check your pocket.”
I do what she says and when my fingers pass over a folded piece of paper, I pull it out. Unfolding it, my heart squeezes inside my chest as I read over Babydoll’s handwriting. It’s come too little, too late. And it changes everything beyond repair.
I was sent to spy on you. To make you trust me. I was sent to make you fall in love with me. But I didn’t have to pretend because I do…I love you. My name is Camilla Doyle. Brody Doyle is my father. Please forgive me.
“Yer a…Doyle?” I ask, my voice dangerously low.
She nods, a tear trickling down her cheek.
“I didn’t tell you because I knew you’d hate me…well, hate me more than you already do. I didn’t even know who I was until a few months ago. I didn’t understand this war between the Doyles and Kellys. Catholics versus Protestants.”
Brody grins victoriously, and why shouldn’t he—he’s outsmarted us all. “Camilla’s ma used to work for me. What can I say? I have a thing for blondes,” he says flippantly.
Babydoll curls her lip, disgusted as I am. “My mom left Ireland and came back to America, pregnant with me. She never told me who my father was, but when she got sick, I went through her things and found out who he was. I was desperate. She needed me, and after being there for me my entire life, I needed to be the strong one.
“I just didn’t know what I was getting myself into. I didn’t know that my father was a selfish son of a bitch.”
Brody grins, unbothered. “My sons and brother didn’t know about my plan, which is why ye were able to infiltrate our operation, ‘Mike.’”
“You’reMike?” Babydoll asks, eyes wide. “Oh my God. I thought you were safe because they were going to use Mike. But they were going to use you. You lied to me,Father.”
Brody shrugs, untroubled, as he continues his story. “We needed a scapegoat, someone to take the fall for what we have planned. They wanted ye to trust them so when the time came, ye’d serve yer purpose.
“They must have trusted ye ’cause they knew.”
“Knew what?” I ask, my anger close to boiling point.
“That yer family.”
Babydoll looks between us, confused. She doesn’t know what this means. But I do.
Brody reaches into his pocket and produces a piece of paper. He offers it to me. “Here are the answers ya want. I always had my suspicions. Dr. Dunne is a good friend of mine and called me with the news.”
Snatching it from him, I read over the information, still not believing it even though it’s printed in black and white. How would Dr. Dunne have Brody’s results on file?
But the letter is from the same paternity clinic I used to find out Connor wasn’t my dad, and it’s the same clinic to tell me who is—I’m a Doyle. I’m Brody Doyle’s son. It’s a perfect match.
Liam snares the paper from my hands, obviously kept in the dark about this wee fact, that I’m his half-brother, which means Babydoll is my…half-sister.
Vomit rises, but I hold it down because I deserve this. This is what I get for trusting someone I shouldn’t have. Although we didn’t know, it doesn’t make a difference. It can never erase what we did, over and over again.
“What is it?” she asks, afraid.
I can’t speak. I can barely think.
