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“This is more of a family issue,” Atticus replied. “It’s about Augustus.”
Theodore waved his hand. “What of him?”
Atticus gave me an apologetic look I couldn’t decipher. “I think it’s important Christine knows what we’re up against. She wants to be included in things.”
“It’s so much easier when they aren’t, son.”
“Yes,” Atticus replied, “but easier isn’t necessarily better, now is it? Sometimes strength and defiance tastes sweet. That’s why you pursued the queen twenty-two years ago.”
My mouth dropped open. Theodore choked on the green beans in his mouth. He coughed a few times before responding to his son’s accusation. “Excuse me?”
Atticus stood up. “It took me a while to figure it out. When the queen approached me two months ago with concerns for her son, I almost didn’t believe it.” He walked over to his father, a frown on his face. “You see, she wouldn’t tell me who Augustus’s real father was, so I had to do some digging.”
“What are you talking about, Atticus?” I stammered, shocked by this turn of the conversation.
“The king found out that Augustus wasn’t his legitimate heir. He was angry—rightfully so—and Queen Isabelle needed someone she could trust to take him out before word got out. I always thought it was strange she called me. I’m a DuPont heir, lethal in my own right. But she’s asked you to do plenty of unsavory things over the years. You’ve always been close friends.”
“You killed King Frederick?” I gasped, pressing my fingers to my lips while staring at Atticus. All of this was too much. I couldn’t even process it. I thought coming to dinner with his parents was some sort of power move. I didn’t realize Atticus would be telling me all of this.
“Atticus, that is enough,” Theodore replied. His cheeks were red with anger and a hint of embarrassment. I could tell that his father wanted to end this conversation.
“Maybe even more than friends.”
“You have no idea what you’re meddling with,” his father said.
Atticus didn’t flinch. He glared at me with burning, reproachful eyes. “You want to be involved, Christine? I’ll happily treat you like a partner. I’ll tell you every dirty secret.” He turned back to his father. “Tell me. Who else knows that you’re King Augustus’s father?”
Chapter Five
ATTICUS
“This doesn’t make sense,” Christine said while rubbing her temples with the tips of her index fingers. “Explain.”
My father looked like he wanted to leave, but I wouldn’t let him get out of here easily. Our men might still report to him, but I was a force to be reckoned with.
“King Frederick isn’t Augustus’s father,” I replied. “He is a DuPont.”
“He’s no bloody DuPont. That boy is spineless. You have no clue what you’re talking about,” my father argued, though I saw the way sweat collected on his brow.
“Isabelle came to me. She said that King Frederick found out that Augustus wasn’t his son. She was worried that they’d both be killed.”
Christine shook her head. “No. That’s impossible—”
I cut her off. “It is very possible. I’d arranged for King Frederick’s death. It was no easy feat. We had to make it look like he died from natural causes and keep him isolated from everyone. I had twenty-four hours to pull it off. But you know what was strange, Christine? The timing of it all was very coincidental. Isabelle called me the night of my father’s birthday party.” I turned to face my father. “You were angry that Augustus was away on his yacht again.”
“I don’t have to explain myself to you,” Theodore seethed. “That boy was wasting away every opportunity.”
I glared at my father. “And you took it personally. Because it’s your blood running through his veins. Frederick noticed. He confronted his wife about it and—”
“And she folded. She had me convinced no one would find out, but when she was questioned, she failed. That’s the thing about strong women, Atticus. They never measure up when it counts. You can’t trust them to keep their mouth or their legs closed.”
“Shut up,” Christine gritted. “I won’t let you talk about her that way. Isabelle saved my life—”
“Who do you think helped cover up the murder, Christine?” my father asked. “Are you going to get down on your knees and thank me? I’m the real hero of this story.” Christine flinched, and I wanted to kill my father for talking so openly about what had happened to her. She’d been harboring this secret for years, and now it felt like everyone knew. My father continued. “Frederick was sterile. He was going to leave Isabelle and try to knock up someone else. She needed a favor, and I was happy to oblige. In exchange, she helped us expand our empire.”
“Isabelle told me August was in danger,” Christine whispered. “She made it sound like the same people who killed King Frederick were after him.”
“She lied,” I said, my voice easy and direct. “Augustus is in danger, but not from me.” I turned to my father. “Who else knew? Lord Nathan is building a rebellion.”
