Chapter 12
12
AGE 17
R age is instantaneous, and I don’t hold back. I blurt my emotions without hesitation. “You’re not my father. My father is Eugene O’Donoghue, and he’s ten times the man you are. You’re just a DNA contributor.”
“If this attitude is any indication, I’d say the way he raised you is definitely lacking, and your statement is questionable in the extreme.”
I grab his shirt and get all up in his face. “You don’t get to show up out of the blue after giving me up and disrespect my parents. If I have an attitude, it’s because your DNA flows in my veins.”
He grips my wrist. “Take your hand off me. Now.”
I’m tempted to smash his face into the wall, but I let him go because it’s obvious he has money, and he’s already proven he doesn’t give a shit about me, so it wouldn’t take much for him to come after me if I hurt him. I try to calm down. “Why are you here?”
“We need to have a conversation. We’ll talk in my car.”
“We’ll talk right fucking here.” I fold my arms and glare at him. There’s no way I’m going anywhere with this man.
He looks all around and up at the sky. “I’m not speaking out in the open,” he says, lowering his gaze and refocusing on me. “Get in the car.”
“Fuck you.”
“You’re just proving I was right to give you up.” His cold tone matches the icy sheen in his eyes.
“Again. Fuck you.” I shove past him. “I don’t care what you have to say. Just fuck off and leave me alone. I want nothing to do with you.” I’m grinding my teeth as I walk off.
“Half a million dollars says you want to hear me out,” he calls after me.
Now that gets my attention. I slow to a stop a few feet away from his BMW.
He catches up, stopping in front of me again. “I have a valid reason for being here. I just need five minutes of your time. I know you’ve reached out to the adoption agency in London and you’re curious. Listen to what I have to say, sign on the dotted line, and I’ll deposit the money in your bank account. Then we can both go back to our lives and pretend like this never happened. We don’t ever have to see one another again.”
Wow, he’s a real piece of work. He’s only shown up because he wants something from me, and as soon as he gets it, he’ll disappear for good. Why the fuck would I give him anything? He abandoned me, and he has no interest in having any kind of relationship with me. Hurt replaces the blood flowing through my veins, and I swallow thickly, averting my eyes before he sees any of that emotion on my face. Who cares if this asshole doesn’t want me? I don’t need him. I’ve gotten along fine without him up to this point.
I’m tempted to tell him to fuck off again, but I want to know why he’s here and what he’s proposing. Plus, half a million dollars is a lot of money. I’d be an idiot to turn it down without at least hearing what he has to say. Purposely shoving my hurt to one side, I school my features into a neutral line and meet his eyes. “Why look me up now?”
“You’ll have access to your birth certificate when you turn eighteen. It wouldn’t be difficult for you to find me or…” His gaze roams my face slowly. “It’s remarkable really.”
I frown. “What is?”
He stares at me for a few tense beats. Ignoring my question, he says, “I’m the CEO and part owner of a big movie production company. I thought I’d preempt things and save us both the awkwardness. I don’t want you, and it seems you don’t need me. No point in wasting either of our time.”
How can I have come from this wanker? Is he even human? Inside, I’m a whirlwind of explosive emotions. This has all come at me out of nowhere, and my emotions are ping-ponging all over the place. I refuse to let this jerk hurt me any more than he already has, so I cling to indifference and try to squash my anger and my pain. “Why should I trust you? How do I know you are even who you say you are?”
He removes a driving license from his wallet and shows it to me. The address says he lives in L.A. “This could be fake.” I have no clue what American licenses look like. I hand it back to him as he passes a folded piece of paper to me.
“That’s your birth certificate.”
I unfold the paper and examine the details. “This says the baby’s name is Rhett Lancaster.” I look up at him. “This isn’t me.”
“Your mother named you after Rhett Butler from Gone with the Wind . It was one of her favorite movies.”
“So, why isn’t it my name?” I mean, I’m not unhappy it isn’t. I definitely dodged a bullet there. I can only imagine the slagging I’d have gotten in school if I was Rhett O’Donoghue. But I know my parents, and they wouldn’t have changed my name.
“You didn’t deserve to keep it,” he snaps. “She died and the name died along with it.”
“Felicia Maria Lancaster,” I whisper, speaking my bio mother’s name for the first time. If this prick is telling the truth, that is. All of this could be a lie, though I’m struggling to understand why any Yank would show up out of the blue and spout lies when there is nothing to gain from it. I’m too old to be kidnapped and trafficked. I don’t have anything of value to be stolen, and this guy isn’t short of money. Unless he’s a complete psycho, I doubt he’s crossed the ocean to murder me. He has some of the details of my adoption, and the resemblance between us is too strong to ignore.
No, unfortunately, this is legit. He is the man who helped to give me life, and he’s a complete dick.
“My wife.” I hear the pain in his tone and lift my head, watching his Adam’s apple bob in his throat. “Your mother.” His eyes narrow into pointed daggers. “You murdered her when you were born.”
I stumble back, and the piece of paper escapes my fingers. “What?” Ma told me my mother died in childbirth, but to say I murdered her? It’s not like I haven’t thought of how she’d be alive if I hadn’t been born, but I’ve never thought of it like that. Murder suggests intent and how could a baby intentionally kill anyone? “I couldn’t. I wouldn’t… You can’t say that to me.” Hurt mixes with anger as he bends down and retrieves the errant certificate.
“Didn’t anyone ever tell you the truth hurts, boy?” He shoves the paper at my chest, and I immediately push him away and step back. “Phrase it however you want, but it doesn’t alter the facts. The love of my life died giving birth to you. She only lived long enough to give you a name. You took Felicia from me, and I’ll never forgive you. You’re lucky I gave you up for adoption because I’d most likely have killed you had I taken you home. I couldn’t bear to look at you then. Like I can’t bear to look at you now.”
He glares at me with so much hatred burning in his eyes it’s not hard to see how much he truly loathes me. Pain spreads across my chest making breathing difficult.
“You ruined my life, and I won’t let you ruin Reeve’s.”
“Reeve?” My brows knit together.
“Your brother.” My eyes pop wide as I stare at him. “Reeve is your twin brother. Felicia was a big Superman fan, and she named Reeve after the actor Christopher Reeve. Looking at you is like looking at him.” He thrusts his phone in front of my face, showing me a picture of himself with a guy who looks scarily like me. They are both wearing suits and fake smiles. Reeve’s hair is a bit lighter in parts, and he’s got a mole over his lip, and his nose doesn’t look like it was ever broken fighting, but other than that he looks identical to me. A shiver works its way through me, and I’m drowning in a pool of confusing feelings. “Get in the car, Dillon, and I’ll explain.”
My legs are like jelly as I walk in a daze to the car. A guy jumps out from behind the wheel and opens the back door for Simon.
Simon slides in, looking up at me with a scowl. “Get in the other side.”
I move as if on autopilot, almost taking a tumble when I step off the curb. I have a brother? I’m a twin? I open the door and flop onto the back seat, beside the wanker, in total shock.
“Reeve is an actor, and he’s going to be a big star. He doesn’t need any skeletons in the closet causing issues for him. The last thing he needs is his long-lost twin resurfacing.”
“He lives with you?”
He nods.
“Does he know about me?” I ask. My voice doesn’t even sound like my own.
“I told him when he was twelve.” Simon flicks a piece of lint off his trousers. “I offered to reunite him with you, but he said no. He didn’t want you either.” His cruel eyes bore into mine. “We are just fine without you.”
“So why are you there then?” I bark, fighting the urge to curl into a ball and rock. Even my twin didn’t want me? How am I so bad? Unless they’ve been watching me and all the fighting and trouble I get into seemingly validates their opinion.
“To make sure you don’t mess things up for my son.”
I’m not quick enough to hide the hurt from my face even though it’s all kinds of fucked up because I’m not his son in any of the ways that count. But I’m barely holding it together, and I can’t shield everything from him. Knowing he kept my twin but rejected me hurts. “Reeve asked me to come talk to you. You can’t come forward, Dillon. No one can know you exist. You are never to contact Reeve. You need to slink into the shadows and stay there. Pretend like you’re invisible, if you will.”
“I hate you,” I say through gritted teeth. “I hate both of you.”
He shrugs, like it’s no big deal, pulling a stapled document out of a large envelope. “This is an NDA. Nondisclosure agreement,” he adds. “Sign this, agreeing to never approach Reeve and never to talk about him or me to anyone, ever, and I’ll give you half a million dollars.”
“Hush money.” I clench my hands into fists.
“Protection for my son.” He shrugs again, and I’m so tempted to smash my fist in his face and fuck up the illusion he presents to the world. He might look rich and polished, successful and confident, but behind that veneer, he’s the devil.
“I’m guessing Reeve was born first.” It’s the only explanation that makes sense.
“Felicia held him in her arms. She was so happy until the midwife said there was another baby, and then everything turned to shit.”
“Only a sick fuck would blame innocent babies for something uncontrollable.”
“I don’t blame Reeve. I blame you.”
Wow, this dick doesn’t hold back. I stare straight ahead, unable to process all this. I’m only now realizing the driver didn’t get in the car. He’s outside on purpose, I’m betting, so he’s not privy to this disgusting conversation.
“No.” I swivel to face him, the leather squelching underneath me with the motion. “You can take your money and shove it up your ass. I’m signing nothing.”
“That would be a big mistake, Dillon.” He flips the document to the last page and removes a shiny silver pen from the outside pocket of his jacket, handing it to me. “Sign it, and let’s be done with this.”
“Fuck you.” I swat his hand away, and the pen drops to the floor.
“You don’t want to make an enemy of me, boy. I’m very powerful, and I can make your life hell.”
“Do your worst. I don’t care.”
“Sign the NDA, Dillon.”
“No, screw you.” I open the door and get out. If I stay in that car for much longer, I’ll choke the life from his pathetic body. I lean back in and fix him with my most hateful expression. “I’m signing nothing. Fuck off back to America, you evil piece of shit.” I’m not giving him what he wants, tempting and all as the money is. I want nothing from this wanker or my self-centered twin. The two of them can rot in hell for all I care.
“One million.” He stares me straight in the eye, looking unruffled. “I’ll double it to one million.”
I’m sensing people rarely refuse him, and he’s used to writing a check to get what he wants.
Not this time, dickhead. “I’m not for sale.”
Slamming the door shut, I storm off in the direction of the bus stop. With every step, the horror of what just transpired sinks deeper into my skin, pushing through sinew and muscle, brushing past bone, and attaching itself to my very soul. I’m shaking and shivering by the time I reach the bus shelter, and the icy chill clings to my body even after I’ve gotten home, crept up the stairs, and taken a long hot shower.