Page 132 of Corrupt Me

“But we don’t have much time, just so you know.”

That cracks me up, and we don’t waste another moment.

Seconds pass so slowly that my thoughts swirl in my head, my erratic pulse thundering in my ears.

The longer Cassandra looks at me, saying nothing, my composure falters, and nerves eat at me like starving termites in a dying trunk. I grip the arm of the chair for support. I sense that whatever she reveals will change my life forever. It’s like the air is thickening, so much so that I nearly choke on it.

Her mouth finally opens. “Before my mother died, we had a lot of in-depth talks. Some pleasant, most not. You were a recurring subject.”

Me? Why? I don’t understand. I remain perfectly still, aware that I will soon learn why Grandmother treated me like she did. While the wound in my heart pulses, it has become bearable with time.

“You represented the epitome of what she thought was wrong with my generation,” Cassandra explains, her voice tinged with sorrow.

She must notice my confused expression because she lets out a deep sigh. “The effect, more precisely. She saw you as the greatest failure of her leadership. My mother took that personally.”

Grandmother despised failure. She raised us to be faultless, drilling into us how exactly we had to behave and what our duties were.

“And because they lied to her.”

“Who?” I ask so low it’s a scrappy, almost inaudible sound.

“Your mother, Andrew, Felix, and Caleb.”

It doesn’t go unnoticed that she referred to my father not by his role but by his name.

She stands up, her gaze fixed on the window for a moment before her eyes, brimming with sympathy, meet mine. This is the second time I’ve seen her like this—so overcome by emotions.

“Andrew is not your biological father.”

The air leaves my lungs as I collapse back into the armchair, my legs no longer able to support me.

Her reply plays on repeat in my head while I try to arrange those thoughts into something that makes sense. Nothing will ever be the same. My world is crumbling, and I don’t know how to piece it back together. Breathing out a long breath, I realize that knowledge is a relief. He couldn’t love me when I wasn’t even his. But the relief is short-lived. I am likely the product of an affair. No wonder my mother can barely look at me.

“Is it Felix?” I ask, hoping so much that it isn’t. But how else could that image make sense—of every one of my friends with a red X over their faces while my picture had a question mark?

“He thinks you’re his.”

I gulp, trying to swallow the knot of anticipation. “Who is it then?”

“Caleb.”

I shoot up. Unease threads up my legs like tentacles, weakening my knees. I reach out to support myself on the wall, but it does little to help me stay upright. All I want to do is crawl under a blanket and never resurface.

Through the mental fog, one thing becomes clear: That would make Blake my brother. It’s the only comfort I can find.

Maybe if I hadn’t been so busy falling in love, I would have found that out on my own. But I dismiss that thought—I need Hunter so much. When I am with him, everything makes sense. I wish he were here, holding me through it all.

“I’m sorry, Bailey.” She sighs. “This can’t be easy for you. Would you like a pause, a hug, something to drink?”

I shake my head. “No, just the truth. Please tell me everything.”

“I don’t know where to start…” The pause stretches as if she needs it to decide how much to reveal. “My generation’s story is a sordid tale of competition to gain the matriarch’s favor. While my birthright gave me an almost untouchable status, that doesn’t mean there was love or friendship in our group. Your mother openly hated me, and Caleb wasn’t interested in anything but his studies and his friendship with Felix.” She tilts her head to the side, lost in memories as she continues, “And Felix—well, we used to be together. I never questioned it much back then, and, for a while, we were good. But things started to change when I began to question the Family’s legacy—our way of living. He would discard any of my thoughts. Brush them aside like they didn’t matter. Then, one day, I caught them together. Your mother and Felix.”

I blink, not knowing what to do or how to reply to that.

There is not a single emotion in her eyes, nor any inflection in her tone. It’s as if she’s recounting a story that didn’t affect her personally—more like a bystander’s account.

“Rebecca did me a favor, honestly. It was what opened my eyes. I knew that was not the life I wanted for myself. None of us knew what love was. Sebastian taught me that. I don’t hate your mother. It saddens me that even though it was just the two of us women, we never got along. I am happy your group is so tight that you’d do anything for each other.”

---