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This was a horrible fucking idea, but paying a visit to the Ravagers didn’t interest me at the moment, and I wasn’t particularly in the mood to tackle all three of their asses at once.I was liable to stab one of them if they dared pissed me off any more than I already was.
I trekked halfway down the hall, and then paused after my narrowed eyes grazed over what I believed to be the correct room number, banging on it three hard times with my curled fist.
It took a minute, but eventually I heard footsteps stumbling around the inside of the room. After hearing a bunch of clicks, telling me that the bitch had multiple locks secured around her door, it opened, revealing Kinsley Sinclair half asleep wearing a black night robe, her hair a wild, tangled mess.
“Samara?”
She rubbed her eyes, then blinked twice at me before she stepped back from the doorway and said, “What the hell? It’s almost two in the morning.”
“This couldn’t wait. Are you going to let me in or not?”
Her whiney scoff was enough to let me know how she felt about it, but eventually she sighed and opened the door wider as she stepped to the side, waving me in and closing the door behind me.
“Seriously, Samara, it’s the middle of the night. What the hell is—”
“Niccolò Riccardo Antolini,” I said sternly, holding the all but squished and torn pages up for her to see. “You were right. He’s my father.”
Kinsley’s sleepy eyes grew wide then, and after a moment of staring, she snatched the pages out of my hand and then sat down on her expensive leather sectional, eyeing over the first page which just so happened to be my fucking birth certificate.
She was right. I didn’t want to believe it, but the copy of the birth certificate Phantom printed from the Storm Ridge Valley Medical Center spoke fucking volumes. I’d seen what I thought was my true birth certificate when I was younger frommy mother. Lillyanne and Nicholas Campbell were the names stamped on it. However, on this certified document Phantom found, Nicholas Campbell wasnotthe name listed on the certificate.
It was Niccolò Riccardo Antolini Jr and Lillyanne Antolini. Everything I thought I knew about my parents turned out to be one big fucking lie.
It grew quiet, but then Kinsley started hysterically laughing, just to grow instantly silent the moment she looked up and took in the murderous expression on my face.
“I’m sorry,” she politely stated as she set all the pages to the side without bothering to look at the rest. “I suppose ‘I told you so’ isn’t an appropriate response.”
I ground my teeth, straining not to burst a fucking blood vessel.
“So, how does it feel to know you’re the blood-born heir to the Ravager throne?”
“Howthe fuckdo you think I feel?” I asked through gritted teeth, my glare on her unwavering. “None of this makes a lick of sense to me, Kinsley.”
“First of all… How did you get your hands on these?”
“Phantom,” I replied, “and that’s all you need to know.”
She nodded thoughtfully, then grabbed the pages again, flipping and scanning through each one briefly. “Well, what he found isn’t faux. All of this is legit.”
Tears burned my eyes as I approached her and crouched down so I was in her face, eye to fucking eye.
“You knew the truth about me all along. You knew exactly who I was the moment I set foot on this campus, didn’t you?”
To my utmost surprise, Kinsley nodded again. “Yes, I did.”
“But how?” I asked, my outrage burning hot through my veins. “How is that possible? How do you know this?”
“Because my father is Jerimiah Sinclair, Niccolò’s best friend since childhood.”
Her words had me sucking in an icy breath and shakily breathing it out as I stood tall and backed away, resisting the urge to draw a blade and slash her pretty face deep enough to leave her scarred for life. “Excuse me? You’re Jerimiah Sinclair’s fucking daughter? The same man who betrayed Xavier Michaelson and joined forces with Damien Reyez?”
Kinsley winced, a torn expression washing over her. “There’s a lot you don’t know, Samara, but yes, Jerimiah Sinclair is my father. I am his heir.”
“I can’t fucking believe this.” I grasped my head, shaking it vigorously while I began to pace, stopping mid step to look back at her. “I need help, Kinsley. I need answers. Are you willing to provide them?”
“I can’t tell you what I don’t know,” she said with a simple shrug. “But Icantell you what I do. The questions now are, how badly do you want to know, and what are you willing to do to get the answers you seek?”
“You’re unbelievable. What’s in it for you?”
