by J. Kenner
“You were young. You were abused. Those kinds of questions shouldn’t have even been in your head.” Right then, I wish Richter was still alive; I want the pleasure of killing him myself.
Damien studies my face. “You’re certain, too.”
I nod. “The age matches. And he looks so much like you. But there’s a little bit of her there, too.”
He draws a breath, then nods. “Well, we’re both right. Charles has been busy. That envelope that Ashton left, it had the birth certificate and it had a vial of saliva. Plus Ryan grabbed his wine glass from beside his chair. Charles got a lab to rush the test. It’s positive. I’m Ashton Stone’s father, and he fucking hates me.”
“Damien, no.” I press my hand over his, my heart breaking for him.
He only scoffs and shakes his head, as if whether Ashton loves or hates him isn’t even the point. Honestly, I suppose it isn’t.
“I never even knew she was pregnant,” he says, his voice filled with grief. “I was fourteen when we —”
He shakes his head again, and I just lean forward and take his hands. “I know.”
“I would have been fifteen when Ashton was born. How did I not know any of this?”
“You told me the other day that Sofia managed to escape for a while when her grandmother was ill. Her aunt came and took her back to the States, right? Do you think that’s when…?”
His eyes widen. “Yes. Yes, of course.”
“Is Sofia identified as the mother on the birth certificate?”
“Yes. And I’m the father. I didn’t recognize the name of the witness, but Charles has been busy. One of the associate attorneys in his Chicago office went and spoke to her. Abigail. Turns out she’s Richter’s half-sister. She adopted Ashton, and the birth certificate was sealed, although she apparently kept a copy. But the sealed file explains why it’s never come to light in any of my previous scandals.”
He says the last with a rough edge to his voice, and I realize that he’s right. Someone would have dug up Ashton’s relation to Damien before now if those records weren’t sealed.
“Charles has done good work. Was the attorney able to talk to her?”
He nods. “Ashton grew up knowing exactly who I was. Apparently Abigail made a point of telling him that it was a dark family secret.”
“Abigail is the half-sister who raised him?”
Damien nods. “They also found a high school friend of his who still lived in the neighborhood. He said that Ashton had a famous father who didn’t want him, and that his mother was crazy.”
He looks at me. “They didn’t just keep him away from me. They went out of their way to make my son believe that I knew he existed but didn’t want him.”
“You’ll talk to him. You’ll tell him.” I draw a breath. “But, Damien, he scares me. He’s holding a grudge, and he’s going to expect you to try to pushback on this. To want revenge for what he did at the ceremony. His whole life he’s been raised to believe you’re the bad guy, and I don’t see that easily changing.”
“I have to try. He’s my blood, baby, and I’m not going to shirk this responsibility now that I know he exists.”
“I know. You’re not the kind of man who would. I know that even if he doesn’t. That’s part of why I love you. But I have to say this, even though you don’t want to hear it.”
I wait until his eyes are on mine, the amber one attentive, the dark one shadowed, as if it’s withholding judgment. “If he’s Sofia’s son, he’s unstable. The texts? The videos and threats? They came from him. Who else? For that matter, why now? What triggered all of this?”
I watch his brow furrow as he considers the question, but he doesn’t answer it.
“But I don’t think he’s the guy I saw at the wedding,” I continue, suddenly remembering. “Their faces are slightly different. But I might be wrong about that. Maybe if Ashton had a beard, they’d look exactly alike. Because, honestly, it makes sense it was him. That he’d snuck in to tape up that note.”
Damien nods slowly. “Okay. Good point. And I agree with you about the threats. But I don’t think he’s unstable. There was nothing wrong with Sofia’s mind. That girl was beyond brilliant. She was smart and funny and charming when she was clear. And she was always clear until it began. It was Richter who broke her. Who almost broke me.” He meets my eyes. “And he broke Ashton, too.”
“I know, and it makes my heart ache. But we have to protect our family. Our girls. Bradley.”
“We do,” he says, pulling me closer, so that I’m tight in the circle of his arms. “But you’re the one who said it earlier, remember? He’s family, too.”
I nod, my eyes damp with unshed tears as I wish for an easy answer. I’m all twisted up inside. This is like nothing we’ve ever faced before, and I don’t know how to handle the emotions. How to dial in a man who hates his father for all the wrong reasons.
But Damien’s right, he deserves the chance. How many chances did I give my mother? How many did we give Damien’s father, until finally their lies and obfuscations and tricks and treachery made us break it off?
Too many, but we haven’t given Ashton a chance at all. How could we have, when we just learned who he really is?
I look to Damien, ready to tell him that he’s right. That we need to figure out a way to convince Ashton that Damien is not the devil. But he speaks before I do. “How the hell could they keep this from me? Keep it a secret and then tell this kid that I never wanted to see him? Who does that?”
“He was evil, Damien. Richter was horrible. We’ve always known that’s the man he was.”
“But why didn’t Sofia tell me? After everything we went through together? How could she have kept this from me all these years?”
I examine my hands, certain he’s not going to like my theory, but he takes his finger and puts it under my chin, lifting it until I’m forced to look at him. “What is it?”
“I don’t think she knew.”
His eyes narrow. “I’ve seen you be pregnant twice. You were very aware.”
It’s the first slightly lighthearted thing he’s said, and I fight back a smile.
“Yes, but I knew what I was getting into. I wanted to be pregnant. And I wasn’t a thirteen-year-old girl. I think she blocked it out. Maybe she convinced herself she was sick. I’ve heard about it happening. Women in so much denial that they don’t realize they’re pregnant, then somehow block out the birth altogether.”
He says nothing, so I continue. “I may not believe that Sofia was the most stable person in the world, but I do know that she loved you. If she realized she had a child, she would have told you.”
He closes his eyes as if in pain. “Fucking Richter. I thought I was done with him. That night on the roof when I let him fall, I was so goddamn happy because I was finally going to be free of him. But I’ve never been free of him Nikki, I’ve never been free.”
“I know. I hate that for you.”
“He infected everything he touched. Me, Sofia, this boy who’s now a man.”
“Maybe he did, but you turned out okay. And Sofia really was getting her shit together. And from what I can tell, Ash is brilliant and focused and angry. But it’s not really you he’s angry with. He only thinks he is.”
His arms tighten around me, and he kisses my hair. “Oh, God, Nikki, baby, I have a son. A child who isn’t ours. A child I never knew existed, who I fathered when I was only a child myself. How the hell are we supposed to make this work?”
“I don’t know,” I say. “But I know I love you. And I know I believe in you. And I know that somehow it will all turn out fine.”
16
Damien wasn’t sure if he was surprised or amused that Ashton was staying at the Stark Century Hotel, but at least that made it easy to locate him. At the moment, though, Ashton wasn’t Damien’s priority. First, he needed to meet with Charles and Ryan. And if Ashton happened to pass through the lobby bar and notice the three of them together, then all the better. After all, Damien
wanted Ashton to know that he was taking the paternity claim seriously.
He settled in at a four-top in the bar, then smiled when Carla brought him a bourbon. She’d worked for the hotel for over five years, and he’d been honored to comp her the penthouse for her honeymoon last year.
“Anyone joining you, Mr. Stark?”
“Charles and Ryan,” he said. “Bring Charles a—”
She waved his words away. “Please, Mr. Stark. Don’t insult me. Mr. Hunter’s the same as you, and Mr. Maynard wants a dry martini.”
“This place couldn’t survive without you.”
“I know, right?” She grinned, then headed back to the bar. A few moments later, Charles joined him. By the time Carla returned with the drinks, Ryan was at the table as well.
“Anything more from the Chicago team?” Damien asked Charles.
His attorney shook his head. “Nothing yet, but Ryan and I spoke earlier. He’s got some thoughts. But before that, I want to address Nikki’s question.”
“She made a good point,” Damien said. “Why now?”
“Exactly. We should’ve realized. The trust.”
The trust Charles referred to was a newly revised trust that Damien had originally created for Lara’s benefit when they adopted her, and it was specifically written to provide for all of his kids. As a result, it hadn’t needed to be revised after either Anne or Bradley was born.
A few months ago, however, Damien had moved some assets into the trust, both securities and real property, which increased the value of the trust’s corpus by about ten-fold.
Because Ashton was over twenty-one and Damien’s son, he was entitled to monthly draws from the trust. And that, honestly, was something that Damien hadn’t thought about yet.
So, yes, the trust potentially answered the why now question. Except that there was still one gaping hole. “How would Stone even know about the trust? Much less that I’d recently increased the assets?”
“That’s a different question,” Charles said. “But you have to agree the timing is suspicious. You increased the corpus two months ago. Now this guy shows up?”
“That was about the time he approached Noah,” Ryan pointed out. “I don’t like it.”
Damien tapped his finger on the tabletop. “We have no evidence that he even knows the trust exists.”
“You’re getting sentimental,” Charles said. “And why wouldn’t you? He’s your son. You want a relationship. But Damien, he wants to hurt you.”
“I don’t actually know if that’s true,” Damien said. “For that matter, we don’t know what he wants. But as far as the trust is concerned, none of that matters, because now that paternity has been confirmed, he is entitled to his share.”
Charles leaned back looking grave. “So you’re just going to hand him a check? You’re not going to put up a fight?”
“No, Charles. I’m not.”
“Damn it, Damien, get your head out of your ass.”
Damien bristled, something that would have made a lesser man cower, but Charles had been around since his tennis days, and didn’t miss a beat.
“The man’s looking for a payday,” Charles said. “This is just another business deal that needs to be nailed shut. You don’t want him in this trust. Pay him off and let him go away. This guy’s been poisoned against you. Make the deal and consider yourself lucky.”
Damien rubbed his temples. For the first time in his life, he felt like he didn’t know where he stood on a matter related to the fortune he’d worked so hard to build. Or, maybe he did know…
Because the bottom line was that Ashton Stone was his son. For better or worse, that talented, angry, arrogant, complicated, brilliant man was in this world now because of Damien.
He remembered the profound joy that had filled him when he’d first seen Lara. When Anne and Bradley had been swaddled and put in his arms. And damned if that same emotion wasn’t growing in him now. Yes, it was messy and confusing, and all the worse because Ashton reviled him. But it was the truth.
He sighed, thinking of Nikki and of how goddamn hard some truths could be.
On the surface, she’d been nothing but supportive, and yet he knew this wasn’t easy on her. An adult son who was also Sofia’s child. He’d been so caught up in his own confused emotions that he hadn’t had time to truly understand what a nightmare this must be for her.
“Maybe you’re right,” he said to Charles. “But I’ll give him the choice. We already know he doesn’t want anything to do with me. So I’ll offer him regular draws from the trust or one lump payment. I’ll treat it as any other business deal, and at the end of the day, money will be the bottom line.” And maybe that really was for the best. After all, Damien knew better than anyone how little blood really mattered.
“Good,” Charles said. “But you know that’s not the end of it. Son or not, this man’s been harassing you. These are threats to expose very personal matters, and that’s not something we can look the other way on.”
“Agreed,” Damien said.
Ryan shifted in his chair. “I’ve sent Winston and Linda to Illinois,” he said, referring to two operatives in Stark Security. A formerly married couple who were reunited after Winston had spent years thinking his wife was dead.
“I want them to chat up Ashton’s mother,” Ryan continued. “She’s Richter’s half-sister, and I’m curious if she’s the one who’s been telling him lies about you intentionally staying away. For that matter, I want to know what the family told Ashton about Sofia. What was she supposed to have known?”
“I don’t think she knew anything about the baby,” Damien said. “I saw all her psych reports for years. Nothing like this was even hinted at. Nikki suggested she’d repressed it, and I think she’s right.”
“Very likely true, but somebody told Ashton that you knew, they might have said the same thing about her.” He leaned forward. “At any rate, Winston and Linda will see if they can learn anything about his early life. They’ve decided to pose as racing fans. It might amount to nothing, but we might get lucky. And anything to help figure out this guy’s angle will be useful.”
“This all sounds good. In the meantime,” Damien added, pushing back slightly from the table, “I’m going to go see him.”
Charles’s brows rose. “I’d advise against that.”
Damien shook his head. “No, you’ve convinced me. This is all just business. And you know perfectly well that I can handle myself in a business transaction.”
What Damien didn’t say was that he had to see him. Needed to stand right in front of his son and speak with him.
He needed to watch Ashton’s face and study his eyes and discover if it was respect that he saw there, or hatred, or something in between.
And if in the end he realized that he had to walk away and use his checkbook to build a wall around himself and the rest of his family, then he would do that.
He only hoped that he wouldn’t have to.
“What do you want?” Ashton leaned against the doorframe, his eyes on Damien.
“To be honest, Ashton, I’m trying to figure you out. On the one hand, you’re direct as hell. You stood up at my vow renewal and aired your grievances to the world.”
“Noticed that, did you?”
Damien bit back a smile. For better or for worse, he definitely saw himself in this man. “Hard to miss. But what I don’t understand is why you act like the bold, abandoned son in front of the world, but then sneak around in the dark texting threats and defacing my property? Are you confident or a coward?”
He’d been watching Ashton’s face as he spoke, and unless the man was a very good actor, there was genuine confusion in his eyes. “Threats? Defacing property? What are you talking about?”
“You know exactly what I’m talking about,” he pressed. “So why not just lay it on the table? What is it you want from me?”
“I don’t want a goddamn thing from you, Stark. Nothing except to take your business away, piece by piece, step by
step, and with the whole world watching.”
“Not even your share of the trust?”
Ashton lifted his hands in what looked like an expression of genuine confusion. “Can you just spell it out for me so I at least know why I’m standing in the hall talking to you?”
And so Damien did. He laid out how he’d established a trust, the beneficiaries of which included all of his issue, which was legalese for all of his kids, by birth or adoption.
“Until I showed up, you only knew about the three,” Ashton said. “Expecting a slew of kids like me to start coming out of the woodwork?”
“I’m not sure there’s anyone quite like you, Ashton. And no. It’s just the way lawyers draft things.”
“Well, congrats to you for doing such a good job with your financial planning. But you can leave me out. I don’t want your money.”
Damien studied him, unable to tell if he was playing a game or not. “All right. Let’s say I believe you. Will you invite me in? I’d like to talk.”
“Talk? You’ve had almost three decades to talk to me. Why now?”
“Because I didn’t know you existed before Saturday as anything other than a racecar driver. I know you don’t believe that, but it’s the truth. And I think there are things we should talk about.”
For a moment, Ashton remained perfectly still, his face an unreadable mask. Then he pulled the door open, allowing Damien to enter the suite.
“Got anything to drink?” Damien asked, and Ashton actually chuckled.
“So we’re going to have that kind of conversation?”
“I figured a drink might do us both good,” Damien admitted.
“Bourbon?” Ashton asked.
“Perfect.” Damien crossed to the sitting area and took a seat on the sofa. As Ashton poured the drinks, Damien looked at him. “Who told you I didn’t want you?”
“My mother.”
“You mean Richter’s half-sister.”
“So? She adopted me. She loved me and raised me. I get that you may not have her on your favorite person list. After all, you killed my grandfather, her brother. Probably aren’t warm fuzzy feelings between you and the Richter family.”