Chapter 41
Forty-One
Sabine
The paternity test. We’d been so preoccupied with Valerie’s poor health that the pending test results had slipped our mind.
Astor pushes off the bed, his face and eyes red from crying.
Cillian’s brows pull together in concern. I wonder if this is the first time he’s seen his boss cry. He looks at me. I shake my head— he’s not doing well.
Astor reaches for the phone. Cillian seems to hesitate, a war battling in his head. But Astor snatches it.
“It’s on speaker,” Cillian informs us.
“This is Astor.”
“Astor, hey, it’s Nick.”
Lightning flashes against the wall.
“I want to confirm that you wanted me to compare the DNA from the tooth to Carlos Leone’s DNA, correct? C-A-R . . .” He spells out the name.
“That’s correct.”
“Okay. Well, I did, and it’s not a match.”
“I’m sorry—you said it’s not a match?”
“Correct. The father of Chloe Stone is not Carlos Leone.”
Astor looks at me, wide-eyed.
“And, just to cover all the bases, you’re definitely not the father either. I checked just to confirm that as well.”
Astor’s knuckles turn white against the phone. He begins pacing. “Well did you get anything useful at all?”
“Yes, actually, I did. I compared your,” he clears his throat, “I mean Chloe Stone’s DNA to everyone we had in the system, and got a hit.”
I surge off the bed and take Astor’s other hand in mine.
“Your daughter’s DNA is a statistical match to a man named Leo Harrison.”
The phone drops from Astor’s hands.
My jaw drops—make that unhinges.
Leo?!
Chloe’s real father is Leo—Leo, the man who has worked for Astor for a decade, first a mercenary, then as a property manager. Suddenly, it makes sense. In managing Astor’s homes, Leo would have had unrestricted, continuous full access to Valerie at all times. And no one would have thought twice about him being in and out of the homes they shared.
Holy. Shit.
“Where is he?” Astor lunges forward and fists Cillian’s shirt. “Where the fuck is he?!”
“I don’t know. Man, you’ve got to calm down?—”
“Where is he?!” Astor bellows, the veins bulging from his neck.
He pushes past Cillian and storms into the hallway, fists clenched, chest heaving.
Cillian and I rush after him.
Astor kicks open the door to the master bedroom, sending it popping on its hinges.
Jackie surges up and stumbles backward. Brittney runs in from the living room, dazed and confused having been awoken by the screaming.
Valerie’s eye’s pop open.
“You fucking liar!” Astor yells, ripping the covers off her bed.
Jackie screams. “Stop! Stop!”
More cracks of thunder, pops of lightning. The sheets of rain create a loud white noise, adding to the ominous atmosphere.
“Brittney, go outside. Get out of here. Now.” I grab her shoulders and push her toward the door. Eyes bugging, she stumbles out of the door in nothing but her socks.
Astor grabs Valerie and hauls her to her feet. Her pale, gaunt face panics as she tries to get her footing, tries to understand what the hell is happening.
“He’s going to kill her!” I yell breathlessly to Cillian as he lunges into action and grabs Astor’s shoulders.
“Let her go, Astor.”
But Astor doesn’t hear his friend, his nurse, or me. He’s glaring at Valerie with wild, feral eyes, his face contorted with rage.
He grabs the collar of her night dress and begins shaking her like a rag doll. Her neck flies backward, her jaw clashing. “You lying bitch!”
“Astor, let her go.” Cillian yanks Astor back. He stumbles backward, into Cillian, as Valerie crumbles to the floor.
Jackie, now crying, rushes to her aide.
Like whiplash, Astor spins around and slams his fist into Cillian’s face. The sound is sickening. The look on his face is terrifying.
I gasp and jump back as Astor delivers another devastating blow, without allowing his friend even a second to register what’s happening. Blood sprays the wall behind them.
He broke Cillian’s nose.
The two engage in a brutal fist fight, eventually falling into the hallway. Behind us, Valerie is screaming and Jackie is trying to calm her down.
I rush into the hallway, yelling at Astor to stop, hoping that hearing my voice will snap him out of it.
Blood runs down both their faces, dripping off their chins.
I’m vaguely aware of Jackie sprinting past us and out the door, as I continue screaming, trying to distract Astor.
Something in Cillian’s eyes flash, a look that resembles the crazed one on Astor’s face, and then, as if someone hit a fast forward button on him, he snaps, delivering a series of punches to Astor’s torso and face that incapacitates him within seconds.
Cillian wrestles Astor to the ground until—finally—Astor lays limp.
“That’s enough, friend,” Cillian growls, his blood dripping on Astor’s cheek. “That’s enough.”
Chest heaving, Cillian pushes off Astor, who he could have easily killed, and wipes the blood from his lips.
Astor stumbles to get off the floor, disoriented. His eyes are dilated, distant. One will be swollen shut in an hour.
He’s extremely messed up.
“Leave us,” he says weakly.
Neither Cillian nor I move.
“Leave us.”
I look at Cillian for reassurance. After a moment, he dips his chin— he won’t hurt her now.
I take Cillian’s hand as he guides me down the hallway. Over my shoulder, I watch as Astor disappears into Valerie’s room.