Page 85 of Filthy Rich

She had just gotten to New York, and she was desperate for work. I wasn’t sure why she just didn’t show up for work her third week. She took one paycheck and left. It felt strange at the time. I read her statement, my certainty slowly eroded word by word.

But then, I think about Octavia. If she was here, what would she tell me? She’d tell me to believe in Dave. She’d tell me that I know him. And she’s right. I also know my dad. He’s a master at hiding things, but when I look at him, there’s an almost undetectable nervousness beneath his polished calm.

“You made this up,” I say. “They’re all fake.”

Dad smiles. “You’re not such a moron after all.” He snorts. “Of course I did. Those idiots who raised you are as boring as they look.”

“It won’t stand,” I say.

“It doesn’t have to hold up in court,” Dad says. “The lawsuits, and the way they keep popping up over and over. . .” He shrugs. “It’ll destroy their company. People will believe that where there’s smoke, there’s fire. Their hotel will go under—collateral damage of my smear campaign.”

“You didn’t even ask the women to lie—you planted the women.”

Dad points at me, his finger wagging, and his smile widening. “That’s the first time I’ve been proud of you in a long time. Normally I’d never have been stupid enough to run a con with that idiot warden in a place I couldn’t escape, but I needed money to pay the women I was using, because the Fansees were too good. By the time I realized the warden’s greed was going to expose us, it was too late. But one good thing came of that whole debacle. I paid enough women to put together my revenge.”

“You really do need to stop obsessing,” I say. “Do you realize that you spent the last fifteen years of your life trying to prepare for one single job?” I scoff. “A job without an upside.”

“Oh, I beg to differ.” Dad leans closer. “Some jobs pay in more than cash. Revenge is going to feel very, very good. It’s their fault I partnered with that idiot warden, which makes the second round of time I spent their fault, too.”

“Okay, but now I know what you’re doing.” I shrug. “I’ll just testify against you, and they’ll believe me.” I smirk. “I am your son, after all.”

“Actually, about that.” He pulls another folder out and drops it on top of the other. “You’re not.”

“What?” He’s not making sense.

“Ace in the hole, remember?” Dad pats the top of the folder. “I know you were never a very good student, so I’ll summarize.” He leans closer and drops his voice. “You’re not my son. Your mother was, however, my whore of a sister. She fell in love with the single most famous serial killer in North America, and then she got pregnant with you on a disturbing conjugal visit that wasn’t even supposed to be allowed.” He shudders. “Your birth made headlines across the entire country. You can look it up. Your real name’s Kimball Frankfurter.”

“But. . .” I frown. “That can’t be true. I’ve seen my birth certificate.”

“It gets better. In addition to spreading her legs for that disgusting man, my sister was actually taking orders from him. They found out about two weeks after you were born that she’d killed three people under his direction. She was living in Texas, sadly, so that was enough to get her lethal injection.”

“She—you said you didn’t know where my mom went after she dumped me on you.”

He shrugs. “That much was true. Heaven? Hell? Who knows?”

“But I don’t see how?—”

Dad smacks me, his open hand making a loud slap against my cheek. “Think, idiot. How much do you think the American public will like hearing that their little golden darling was the son of two murderers?” He can’t seem to stop gloating. “You’ll lose it all. Public support, fame, money, and the ridiculous little family you seem so grateful for.”

I shake my head.

“You don’t think so?” Dad snatches the folder. “Let’s see what happens, then.”

“Wait,” I say.

“You just realized your girlfriend wouldn’t look at you the same ever again, didn’t you?” He cackles.

“Shut up.”

His laughing just gets louder. “Ah, Jake.” He shakes his head and wipes his tears. “You thought you were a baddie, but you’re such a baby, still. Now, you can choose to help me, or I can go ahead and give all the paperwork about your true parentage to the media. They’ll know just what to do with it.” He pats my knee. “What’ll it be?”

Chapter 20

Jake

I thought I was pretty awesome. Dad was right about that.

In school, no one dared mess with me. I gathered information and kept records of everything I found. I used it whenever necessary, just as Dad taught me. By high school, I started to feel a little bad about it doing it, because I’d started to see another way.

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