CHAPTER SIXTY-SIX
Asher
It was already dark in Stetbourg.
I parked in Russell’s driveway, pulled the bag with the paternity test kit from the tank bag, and swung off the bike.
My eyes burned from lack of sleep, my chest hollow from his and my mother’s betrayal.
On the flight back to the States, I’d rehearsed what I’d say to them. I’d planned to pour every ounce of rage and disappointment into a speech. But the second I got off the plane, I deflated.
I’d spent years resenting my mother. After Dad’s death, all I wanted was to feel understood, to believe I still had a family—someone in my corner. Instead, I watched her rebuild her life, move on with another man, erase her past with Dad as if it never mattered.
Now I finally knew why.
It was heartbreakingly unfair, but nothing I did would change the fact Dad was gone. She was with Russell. And if I didn’t put in the work to close this wound, it would fester until it destroyed me—until I forgot the kind of life Dad would’ve wanted for me.
The only thing between me and a future not poisoned by hate was the truth. I needed proof I was Dad’s. I needed my mother to see I was his, not Russell’s.
Clutching the kit, I strode to the front door and knocked instead of ringing the bell. A few seconds later, my mother appeared.
It was dinnertime. Garlic and herbs drifted from the kitchen. Slow music hummed from the dining room. I was about to shatter their romantic bubble.
Too fucking bad.
Her eyes widened. “Asher?”
“I need to talk to your husband and you.”
She cleared her throat, clutching the teardrop pendant hanging from her gold chain. Another gift from him, no doubt. Bet he never gave his daughter anything that nice. “Alright. Come in.”
I brushed past her and stopped in the middle of the foyer.
“What’s going on?” she asked.
“I saw Miguel in Aragón.”
She dropped the pendant and twisted the bracelet on her wrist. “Oh. How is he?”
“Better now that he told me the truth.”
Her face blanched. Proof enough Miguel hadn’t lied.
“Sharon?” Russell called from the dining room.
“I’ll go say hi,” I said. “Don’t worry about food. I’m not hungry.”
When he saw me in the doorway, Russell froze. I hadn’t set foot in this house in over a year. I tossed the bag with the test onto the table. The candle flame wavered with the motion. Russell set his fork down. “What are you doing here?”
“I came to tell you I know about your affair with my mother. My father’s mechanic told me everything, so don’t waste your breath denying it.”
The tips of his ears reddened. He grabbed for his wineglass, but it was too small to hide the flush creeping up his cheekbones. Not having the upper hand must’ve been a new feeling for him.
“Asher, it’s…” my mother started from behind me.
I clenched my fists. “Not what it sounds like?”
Here was the truth—despite my efforts to stay calm, it fucking hurt. Every time I remembered her and Dad together, sharing a candlelit dinner. Every family vacation. So many once-happy memories now forever tainted by her lies.
There was no excuse. She could’ve left him. He would’ve been heartbroken, but probably still alive.
She stepped toward me, like she might do something as ridiculous as hug me. I shook my head. Too fucking late to pretend she cared. It would’ve been fake—a maneuver to distract me from her betrayal.
“Miguel said you weren’t sure I was Dad’s. So please”—I turned to Russell—“do the test. You might not want to know, but I do.”
I shoved the bag toward him.
He took it, sighing through his nose. “Wait here.”
As soon as his footsteps faded, my mother gripped my arm. “I’m sorry. I really am. You were never supposed to find out. It was between your father and me.”
“So the only problem is that I found out? Not that you lied to him—and me—for fuck knows how many years?”
“Russell and I…” She crossed her arms tight over her chest, eyes flashing. “The timing was never right. We were young, and you know how it can be. You and Kaia—”
“Don’t fucking bring her into this!” My composure shattered.
“Kaia and I didn’t hurt anyone. We didn’t lie to spouses and children.
We didn’t cheat. So no, I don’t ‘know how it can be,’ because I’d never look at another woman.
And I’m pretty fucking sure she wouldn’t betray me the way you betrayed Dad. ”
“You’re being unfair,” she snapped. “Do you think your perfect little relationship is so clean? What happens if Russell is your father? You were so set on parading that girl around to spite us you never once thought about why we were against it.”
“Russell isn’t my father.” I glanced at my watch. “A minute.”
She huffed. “What minute, Asher?”
“That’s how long your fake regret lasted before you justified your lies by making me the bad guy. Of course I thought about everything. You could’ve done the mature thing and talked to us both.”
“Done.” Russell strode back in, chin high, like he still owned the room.
I took the bag from his hands. “Did you sign the consent form?”
He crossed his arms. “I did.”
“Anything else you two lied about?”
Russell widened his stance, jaw working, but the usual smugness wasn’t there. Just color rising along his cheekbones.
My throat burned with all the years of unsaid shit, but the only closure I needed were the test results. I swept my gaze over them—pale faces, sharp edges, too defensive to admit guilt.
“Go on, enjoy your evening,” I said.
“Will you. . .” my mother stammered out. “Will you let us know when you get the results?”
I huffed out a dry laugh. “So now you’re interested in the truth?” After a pause, I added, “I’ll let you know.”
Without waiting for her answer, I spun on my heel and walked out.
Cool wind hit my face in the driveway. I rubbed my hands over it until I was steady enough to ride.
Then I got on my bike.