Sure enough, I find Damien sitting on the tar paper and gravel rooftop, his back leaning against some piece of mechanical equipment. I cross to him, and he looks up. For a moment, his face is entirely blank. Then his mouth curves in a sad smile, and he holds out a hand for me. I go to him, sitting on the roof as well, my hand resting on his leg as I sit facing him.
“I should have seen it the first time I looked at him,” Damien says, his voice so low I have to strain to hear him. “But maybe I didn’t want to see it. Maybe I just never let myself think it was even possible.”
“You were young. You were abused. Those kinds of questions shouldn’t have even been in your head.” Right then, I wish Richter was still alive; I want the pleasure of killing him myself.
Damien studies my face. “You’re certain, too.”
I nod. “The age matches. And he looks so much like you. But there’s a little bit of her there, too.”
He draws a breath, then nods. “Well, we’re both right. Charles has been busy. That envelope that Ashton left, it had the birth certificate and it had a vial of saliva. Plus Ryan grabbed his wine glass from beside his chair. Charles got a lab to rush the test. It’s positive. I’m Ashton Stone’s father, and he fucking hates me.”
“Damien, no.” I press my hand over his, my heart breaking for him.
He only scoffs and shakes his head, as if whether Ashton loves or hates him isn’t even the point. Honestly, I suppose it isn’t.
“I never even knew she was pregnant,” he says, his voice filled with grief. “I was fourteen when we —”
He shakes his head again, and I just lean forward and take his hands. “I know.”
“I would have been fifteen when Ashton was born. How did I not know any of this?”
“You told me the other day that Sofia managed to escape for a while when her grandmother was ill. Her aunt came and took her back to the States, right? Do you think that’s when…?”
His eyes widen. “Yes. Yes, of course.”
“Is Sofia identified as the mother on the birth certificate?”
“Yes. And I’m the father. I didn’t recognize the name of the witness, but Charles has been busy. One of the associate attorneys in his Chicago office went and spoke to her. Abigail. Turns out she’s Richter’s half-sister. She adopted Ashton, and the birth certificate was sealed, although she apparently kept a copy. But the sealed file explains why it’s never come to light in any of my previous scandals.”
He says the last with a rough edge to his voice, and I realize that he’s right. Someone would have dug up Ashton’s relation to Damien before now if those records weren’t sealed.
“Charles has done good work. Was the attorney able to talk to her?”
He nods. “Ashton grew up knowing exactly who I was. Apparently Abigail made a point of telling him that it was a dark family secret.”
“Abigail is the half-sister who raised him?”
Damien nods. “They also found a high school friend of his who still lived in the neighborhood. He said that Ashton had a famous father who didn’t want him, and that his mother was crazy.”
He looks at me. “They didn’t just keep him away from me. They went out of their way to make my son believe that I knew he existed but didn’t want him.”
“You’ll talk to him. You’ll tell him.” I draw a breath. “But, Damien, he scares me. He’s holding a grudge, and he’s going to expect you to try to pushback on this. To want revenge for what he did at the ceremony. His whole life he’s been raised to believe you’re the bad guy, and I don’t see that easily changing.”
“I have to try. He’s my blood, baby, and I’m not going to shirk this responsibility now that I know he exists.”
“I know. You’re not the kind of man who would. I know that even if he doesn’t. That’s part of why I love you. But I have to say this, even though you don’t want to hear it.”
I wait until his eyes are on mine, the amber one attentive, the dark one shadowed, as if it’s withholding judgment. “If he’s Sofia’s son, he’s unstable. The texts? The videos and threats? They came from him. Who else? For that matter, why now? What triggered all of this?”
I watch his brow furrow as he considers the question, but he doesn’t answer it.
“But I don’t think he’s the guy I saw at the wedding,” I continue, suddenly remembering. “Their faces are slightly different. But I might be wrong about that. Maybe if Ashton had a beard, they’d look exactly alike. Because, honestly, it makes sense it was him. That he’d snuck in to tape up that note.”
Damien nods slowly. “Okay. Good point. And I agree with you about the threats. But I don’t think he’s unstable. There was nothing wrong with Sofia’s mind. That girl was beyond brilliant. She was smart and funny and charming when she was clear. And she was always clear until it began. It was Richter who broke her. Who almost broke me.” He meets my eyes. “And he broke Ashton, too.”
“I know, and it makes my heart ache. But we have to protect our family. Our girls. Bradley.”
“We do,” he says, pulling me closer, so that I’m tight in the circle of his arms. “But you’re the one who said it earlier, remember? He’s family, too.”
I nod, my eyes damp with unshed tears as I wish for an easy answer. I’m all twisted up inside. This is like nothing we’ve ever faced before, and I don’t know how to handle the emotions. How to dial in a man who hates his father for all the wrong reasons.
But Damien’s right, he deserves the chance. How many chances did I give my mother? How many did we give Damien’s father, until finally their lies and obfuscations and tricks and treachery made us break it off?
Too many, but we haven’t given Ashton a chance at all. How could we have, when we just learned who he really is?
I look to Damien, ready to tell him that he’s right. That we need to figure out a way to convince Ashton that Damien is not the devil. But he speaks before I do. “How the hell could they keep this from me? Keep it a secret and then tell this kid that I never wanted to see him? Who does that?”
“He was evil, Damien. Richter was horrible. We’ve always known that’s the man he was.”
“But why didn’t Sofia tell me? After everything we went through together? How could she have kept this from me all these years?”
I examine my hands, certain he’s not going to like my theory, but he takes his finger and puts it under my chin, lifting it until I’m forced to look at him. “What is it?”
“I don’t think she knew.”
His eyes narrow. “I’ve seen you be pregnant twice. You were very aware.”
It’s the first slightly lighthearted thing he’s said, and I fight back a smile.
“Yes, but I knew what I was getting into. I wanted to be pregnant. And I wasn’t a thirteen-year-old girl. I think she blocked it out. Maybe she convinced herself she was sick. I’ve heard about it happening. Women in so much denial that they don’t realize they’re pregnant, then somehow block out the birth altogether.”
He says nothing, so I continue. “I may not believe that Sofia was the most stable person in the world, but I do know that she loved you. If she realized she had a child, she would have told you.”