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It may seem like I’m letting us fall apart, but I don’t want this. I don’t want to keep fighting Dax, to keep pushing him away because I’m afraid if he gets too close, I’ll end up forgetting that I shouldn’t kiss him. I don’t want him gone from my side. I want him right here, and not as a brother. I want to kiss him, to cuddle with him, to be in his arms and to feel his bare skin against mine. I want to look into his eyes and bask in the love I see there.

But I can’t. Not anymore. Not until I find out for sure that he’s not my brother.

I sit up.

I have to find out the truth. That’s why I came here. That’s why I’m still here. Maybe it’s a good thing Dax isn’t here. Now I can go about my investigation without him getting suspicious.

Investigation? I nearly laugh. I’m not going to do any spy work. I’m no James Bond. I’m not going to snoop around and risk ending up in jail in a foreign country. I’m just going to discreetly ask some members of the staff if they’ve ever seen my mother. Maybe Maurice, if I can get him alone while he’s doing one of the many things he supposedly does for Walt.

Walt. Well, I shouldn’t call him Dad until I’m sure.

He wasn’t at all what I expected. Then again, he’s sick, so he’s not his usual self. I was hoping I’d feel something when our eyes met or when he touched my hand, like some skip of a heartbeat or a chill down my spine, or maybe I’d just hear some voice inside my head. But none of that happened, and I’m not sure if I’ll ever get to see him again.

If ever I do get some information that I’m his daughter, I would like to see him again. I’m not going to tell him he’s my father. I’m not sure if he remembers my mother. Even with the picture I have, he may not believe me. I just want to introduce myself to him, to have him look at me. And if he recognizes me, then we’ll take things from there.

I would rather have Dax than a wealthy father, but if I can’t have Dax, I might as well have a father. Well, another one.

I nod. So yeah, I’ve got stuff to do here, which I’ll get started on tomorrow after I get a good night’s sleep on this amazing bed. One way or another, I’ll get the answers I need.

~

Or not, I think with a sigh of frustration after I speak to yet another maid.

I’ve already spoken to nine of them, and I still haven’t learned anything new, except for the fact that there are about five different kinds of maids in a British household, that Walt Willard keeps his women in a row of suites where maids can’t enter unless they’re called – surely, my mother can’t have lived in that harem – and that they’re all scared to say anything more for fear of a scolding from Maurice.

I’d like to get his attention myself, but I’ve barely seen him. I’d go find him, but none of the maids seem to know exactly where he is. That’s probably one reason they’re scared. He could show up at the top of a staircase or behind a door at any second and scold them for not doing their jobs.

Efficient but scary.

Should I just wait in a corner for him to pass by? But this house is so big. I could wait all day and never catch a glimpse of him.

I sigh. Maybe I should just try to sneak into that harem. I don’t know where it is, though. Actually, I don’t know where anything is. Dax didn’t exactly give me a tour before he disappeared.

Except for one place – Walt’s room. That I remember how to get to.

What? I’ll just waltz in there and ask, “Did you fuck my mother?” No way.

Well, maybe not like that, but the more I think about it, the more I realize that if there’s anyone in this house who can tell me the truth, it’s Walt. If he remembers me, that is. If not? Well, I can just hide behind a curtain, wait for Walt to summon Maurice, and then ambush him.

It sounds like a plan. A scary plan. But I muster enough courage to head over to Walt’s room. Like I said, I’m going to get the answers I need.

I manage to retrace my steps from yesterday and find Walt’s room. The door to it is right at the top of a staircase. No maids are standing outside, and no bodyguards, although I did see a few walking around the grounds earlier in spite of the snow. There’s only this door standing between me and the answers I’m looking for.

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