“Was Oscar your son?”
Richard’s face fell. “In every way except blood.”
I wasn’t exactly shocked, but somehow I still was…
“He’s not a Deboise?” Beck asked, shrewdly watching Richard, assessing each and every answer.
Richard shook his head. “No, he’s a Huntley. Catherine was already pregnant when she came to me and begged for help. Her life was in danger. Her son’s life was in danger. We’d always gotten along well, she was attractive, and this alliance suited me. I wasn’t sure I could have children after an accident when I was younger, and this way I was assured an heir to carry on the Deboise name.”
Dylan sat straighter now. “I never knew of the accident.”
Richard laughed. “Yes, well, one doesn’t exactly advertise that he might not be able to have an heir. Tends to bring out the vultures. You three are the only ones who know. Oh, and a doctor who stitched me up.”
“You did have a kid though, so that’s a moot point, right?” I pushed, needing more evidence that I wasn’t a Huntley. Richard hadn’t exactly proven himself to be trustworthy and right now I only had his word about this “DNA test.”
Richard reached around to the small side table I hadn’t noticed and lifted some papers. “Figured you’d want proof,” he said.
He handed them to me, and Beck and Dylan moved in closer so the three of us could read through the papers.
I noted the official seal first, and more official numbers and such that indicated this was a legit test. I then focused on the results … and it was exactly as he said. My DNA proved Richard was my biological father, beyond doubt.
“So, Oscar was Graeme Huntley’s child?” Beck said, while I continued to stare down, my knuckles white where I held the edges of the paper.
Dylan startled next to me, but that was the full extent of his shock. I doubted that anyone else would have even noticed.
Richard’s expression shuttered. “No. Oscar was not Graeme’s. He was Reginald Huntley’s child.”
Beck and Dylan were so still, and the energy that was coming from both of them was dark. Really dark.
“I don’t understand,” I said, finally meeting my father’s eyes. “Who is Reginald Huntley?”
There was another player in this game I didn’t know about? Was she fucking another one of her brothers? Or … a cousin, maybe?
“Catherine’s father,” Beck snarled. “An evil old fuck that thankfully died a few years ago.”
Catherine’s father…
Somehow I wasn’t sick. Somehow.
“Catherine was sleeping with her father and her brother?” I asked, swallowing hard to stop the bile. What the fuck was happening here? Had I stumbled into some sort of dark romance story where crazy shit kept happening, even when it made no sense?
Richard shook his head, eyes sad. “No, she didn’t sleep with her father … he raped her. For years. She was the victim of his assault night after night from when she was about ten. When she got pregnant, she found the strength to escape him. She went for the only people powerful enough to take on Huntley.”
“Delta,” I breathed.
Oh my fucking god. That was absolutely horrific, and for a split-second, I felt sympathy for Catherine. It actually explained a lot about the fucked up person she was, why she acted so horrible. But … at the end of the day, I couldn’t forgive her for what she did. Especially with whatever was going on with her and Dante.
That was a question to deal with after this one.
“That’s why you’ve always been so sure about her loyalty to Delta,” I said, focusing on getting whatever information I could. “Her hatred toward her father.”
Richard nodded. “Hate and fear. She would never go back near them.”
But… “She was kissing her brother.” I shook my head. “And she definitely didn’t kiss him like he was someone that assaulted her. Or like she was afraid of him. She kissed him like he was the one person in this world she loved.”
At this, Richard looked upset, maybe for the first time since I’d walked in here. “I knew that her brother received abuse from the father as well, in a different way to Catherine, but it drew them very close together. She told me that he’d saved her, and that they briefly had a sexual relationship, but that it was all done. She was done with Huntley.”
“It’s not done,” I assured him. “Catherine has to be your spy.”
