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I say no more. There’s no arguing with my father about the original Sean Murphy. He has his own ideas, and no one will tell him otherwise.
“The second question you asked,” Lauren says, “was about my father.”
“Yes,” I say. “Do you know who he was?”
“I do,” she says, “though I never met him.”
“Mom…” Jack says.
“It’s all right, honey. Let’s just get this over with.” Lauren picks up her teacup but doesn’t take a sip. “I never met my father, but I do have my original birth certificate from when I was born. Before my mother had my name changed.”
“How did she do that?” Dad asks.
“If I knew, I’d tell you. My mother has resources and can get almost anything done. She’s a brilliant woman. An IQ around a hundred and sixty, along with no ethics and no regard for the law. So yeah, she gets things done.” Lauren rises. “I’ll get the birth certificate. I’ll be right back.”
Once she leaves, I feel Jack staring at me.
“What?” I ask him.
“It’s just…” His gaze seems to fall on my mouth. “We do have some similar features. My hair’s darker.”
“It is. But your mother’s hair is brown.”
“True. I don’t know how all that works.” He clears his throat. “I’d like to take a DNA test, if you’re okay with that.”
“Sure,” I say. “Dad?”
“Yeah, of course. It will at least be able to tell us if we’re related. You’re clearly not my uncle’s son, and like Brendan said, Sean Murphy is a pretty common name.”
“I just don’t have any family other than my mom and grandmother, and we don’t have any relationship with her. You seem like nice guys. It’d be cool to have some relatives.”
I turn to my dad, relieved that he’s calmer now. “We’d know, though, if there were another Sean Murphy in our immediate family, Dad.”
“True. But he could still be a distant relative. If you want the test, Jack, I’ll be happy to submit my blood.”
“Me too,” I agree.
Lauren whisks back into the room holding a paper. “Here—”
The door knocker.
“Excuse me,” she says, still holding the birth certificate.
“This is tough on her,” Jack says. “I hope her other son doesn’t show up—”
Lauren returns from the foyer, and with her is…
Pat Lamone.
Who doesn’t look much like Jack. His hair is mousy brown, and his eyes are bluish-gray. There’s a slight resemblance to Lauren, specifically the nose and lips, but his coloring clearly came from his father—one of three rapists.
Jesus. He has no idea.
Jack rises. “Who’s this?”
“Apparently, Jack,” Lauren says, “this is your brother.”
Lauren’s face has gone white, and she trembles. Jack takes her arm and leads her back to the couch. She sits, but Jack stays standing, glaring at Lamone.
“Jack, this isn’t his fault,” Lauren says softly.
Jack turns and regards his mother. Clearly she’s his Achilles’ heel. But she’s also right. It’s not Lamone’s fault that he’s the product of his mother’s rape.
As much as Lamone grates on my nerves now that I know what he did to Diana Steel and the Pike sisters, I kind of feel sorry for him in this moment.
“What are you two doing here?” Lamone asks Dad and me.
“Looking for answers,” Dad says. “Same as you. Lauren…the birth certificate?”
She hands it to Dad, who widens his eyes slightly. He hands it to me.
It’s old and faded. Lauren was born fifty-four years ago. She looks good for her age. Mother is listed as Wendy Madigan.
And the father?
William Elijah Steel. Son of George Steel, half brother of Bradford Steel.
I’ll be goddamned.
Pat Lamone is a Steel.
So is Lauren, and so is Jack. And if Jack is also related to us?
There’s our link to the Steels.
And it all begins with Wendy Madigan.
Fuck it all to hell.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Ava
I pull into the long driveway leading to my parents’ ranch house. I didn’t call ahead of time. Normally, I would, but I need to see my mother. My father is probably at the winery, but even if he’s here, I’m getting my mother alone.
Dad gave me his answers. Now it’s Mom’s turn.
I walk in without knocking, nearly bowling over the housekeeper.
“Miss Ava. I wasn’t expecting you.”
“I’m sorry, Michaela,” I say. “Is my mother home?”
“She’s in the library, I believe.”
“And my father?”
“With her.”
“Why are they— Oh, never mind. It doesn’t matter. I’ll find out myself.” I whisk past her.
“Can I get you anything?”
“Yeah. Some lunch would be great.”
“What—”
“Anything.”
I promised Brendan, Brock—and myself—that I’d eat. So I’ll eat whatever Michaela makes…while I listen to my mother’s secrets.
And hope that I don’t upchuck it all.
I tear open the door to the library.
“Ava!” Mom looks up from some documents laid out on the wooden table.
Dad sits beside her. “Sweet pea? What are you doing here?”
“I’m ready to hear the rest of our sordid family history,” I say. “I’ve heard Dad’s side, Mom. Now I want yours.”
“Ava…”
“No excuses. I’ve been pulling my hair out, starving myself, over all this. I’m done. The tower is falling, and if I’m going to escape the rubble, I need to know the truth.”
