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“But I did. They stole more than just my boy from me; they stole my heir. They stole any chance at trust. I live a lonely existence. My generals obey me. My politicians bow to me. But I can’t trust any of them to rule in my stead. Aslan was my one chance at being happy. My one chance at retiring, knowing everything I’ve built was safe in his control. And the Avcis stole that from me.”
“You speak of Aslan as if you still love him.”
“I do. Very deeply.”
“Then how could you kill him in cold blood?”
“Oh, it wasn’t in cold blood, kizim. It was very much planned and premeditated. I told you. That man was not my son.”
“He was more your son than anyone. If you knew what he—” I cut myself off.
Don’t.
Think, Neri.
Think before you act for once in your miserable life.
Cem paused for a moment, the silence turning sharp with questions.
“Is there something you want to tell me?” he asked quietly. “You do hold an enviable place in my son’s past, after all. Out of anyone, living or dead, you knew him the best.” He sucked in a breath. “So...tell me. Prove to me why I made a mistake killing the imposter who was my flesh and blood. Go on.”
I glowered at the happy families all around me, and my heart bled all over the pretty street for what I’d lost. I tasted the truth, rolling it on my tongue, before deciding...fuck it.
What could happen?
Aslan was dead.
He’d told my father what he’d done to Ethan.
I was merely repaying the favour by telling his.
“Aslan Avci was good and kind, sweet and hardworking. He loved math and said that numbers felt differently—”
“He did?” Cem interrupted with a gasp. “He saw in colour?”
I scowled. “He was secretive about it but only because I’m guessing whatever gift he’d been given came from you. A gift he wanted nothing to do with.”
He snorted but didn’t retaliate. “There’s a genetic trait in our family. My father had it. I have it. Seems my son had it.” He paused, then said, “It will be interesting to see if Ayla has inherited the Kara synesthesia genes. Keep an eye on her, kizim. She could be far more special than you know.”
“Hearing my daughter’s name on your tongue is repellent.”
“Why? Because you’re beginning to understand me? Because you would do the same thing I did if someone dared steal your child?”
“Enough.” Running a hand through my hair, I bent forward. “I’m nothing like you.”
“As you wish. But please...finish what you were going to say about why Aslan was more my son than any other. The boy you’ve mentioned, who loved math and avoided conflict, sounds like an Avci, not a Kara.”
“Will you let him go if I tell you?”
“He’s dead, kizim. I am sorry you cannot believe that.”
Anguish cracked through my spine; I clung to the only emotion I could.
Anger.
Hate.
Bone-deep loathing that this man still existed.
