“Okay,” I said again. “So why are you tellingme?”
He took another sip of bourbon.
Set the glass on his desk.
Looked me dead in the eye.
“Because both samples will be used,” he said. “Yours and Amai’s.”
The words didn’t land at first.
I heard them. Processed them. But they didn’t make sense.
“What the fuck are you talking about?”
“Exactly what I said.” His voice was calm. Clinical. Like he was discussing a business transaction. “Dr. Beaumont will fertilize the eggs with sperm from both of you.”
“Why?” The word came out sharp. Angry. “Amai doesn’t know about this, does he?”
“Of course not.”
“Then why?”
“Because your brother’s sperm isn’t going to work,” Winston said flatly. “The possibility is slim to none. You know that. I know that. Dr. Beaumont knows that. We need an heir, Kaisen. And if Amai can’t produce one, then you will.”
I stood up so fast the chair scraped against the floor.
“Are you out of your fucking mind?”
“Sit down.”
“No.” I was shaking now. Fury rising hot and fast in my chest. “You can’t just—this is insane. Amai will lose his shit if he finds out!”
“He won’t find out.”
“And what happens when the kid is born and looks nothing like him?” I shot back. “What then?”
Winston shrugged. “You’re brothers. Close enough.”
“Close enough?” I laughed, but there was no humor in it. “Dad, this is?—”
“This is necessary,” Winston interrupted. “The Landry name doesn’t die because your brother’s condition makes him sterile. We adapt. We survive. That’s what this family does.”
“Then letmekeep the name going,” I said. “I’ll have kids. I’ll?—”
“No.”
The word was final.
Absolute.
I stared at him.
“What do you mean,no?”
He picked up his bourbon again. Swirled it in the glass.
“No disrespect, Kaisen,” he said, his tone suggesting he was about to disrespect the hell out of me, “but I’m not confident in anything you produce. And I sure as hell don’t trust you as father material.”
