Page 95 of Old Fashioned
“But, he was adamant that this all remain just between us. So, when I returned, I told him that I gave you to a family in Idaho.” She rolled her lips together, her voice soft again “But… I couldn’t part from you. I couldn’t bear the thought of never being able to see my son grow up. So, I went to my old best friend, and I asked her for the biggest favor of a lifetime.”
I could feel Noah and Logan watching me, but all I could do was stare back at this woman — thisstranger— who suddenly, I realized, had features that were reflected in me. I saw the freckles on her nose, and the curve of her eyes, and the wrinkle between her furrowed brows.
They were all things I saw in myself, too.
My throat was tight the more she spoke, and Sydney squeezed my hand, reminding me she was there.
“Laurelei and John were having trouble getting pregnant at the time,” Mary explained. “And I knew she wanted to be a mother so badly, and I knew she would helpanyone— no matter what — because that’s the kind of woman she has always been.” Mary sniffed. “So, she did. She helped me. And she helped you.”
My head was swimming, and Mallory and I exchanged a glance that held just as many questions as we’d walked into this room with at the beginning of the night.
We were brother and sister.
That wasmymother standing on the other side of her.
But who was my father?
I didn’t have time to ask, not before Mary brought our attention back to the matter at hand. “I’m sorry you had to find out this way, and I know you must have many questions. But right now,” she said, turning back to her husband. “I don’t care what your reasoning was for what you did, you need to make this right.”
“Fine,” he seethed, looking at all of us then. “What do you want? You want money? Name your price.”
“We don’t want yourfuckingmoney,” Logan said. “We want you to rot in prison for killing our father.”
“You and everyone who helped you,” Noah chimed in. “We want names.”
“And we want the shares of the company that we are rightfully owed,” I added, though my chest was tight, because now I wasn’t sure whichweI fit into.
I’d wondered for so long who my biological mother was. I never would have imagined that once I found out, I’d feel an invisible tear from the family I’d known my entire life.
Patrick laughed, shaking his head at us. “You’re delusional if you think I wouldevergive youanypart of my company. You’re lucky I even let you pieces of shitworkfor me. And I promise you this,” he added, thumbing his chest. “I willnevergo to prison — especially not for your worthless father and the end of his worthless life. Like I said before, you don’t have any proof — none that would matter. None that would stand up against whatIhave built. Did you forget what I said earlier?” He sneered. “You. Will.Not. Win.”
“Wow, that’s agoodone,” a female voice said from outside the office window, and Patrick jumped, shock falling over him.
Noah and Logan exchanged a smirk, though I couldn’t quite find it in me to join them.
“Who is that?” Patrick asked quickly, running over to the window. Just as he did, the light of a giant camera blasted in at him, and he shielded his eyes.
“Can I quote you on that? It would really add a menacing,evil bad guytone to the piece.”
The light disappeared, and Patrick was searching in the yard, wild-eyed and confused. He looked back at us, panicking. “Who was that? What’s going on?”
Then, the door behind Mary opened wider, and Mikey stepped through it.
Along with Miranda Hollis.
Miranda was a writer for our local newspaper —The Stratford Gazette— and thanks to Mallory helping us make a plan, we knew if we got her involved, we’d be able to slam the door on this case once and for all. She was famous for writing scathing articles about Patrick Scooter and she had for years — though, admittedly, none of them held much weight.
This one, however, would be a home run for her.
Mallory had blackmailed her father with Miranda before, telling him that if he didn’t give Logan the position he was owed at the distillery, she would go to Miranda and tell her everything that happened when she was fourteen years old and Randy Kelly sexually harassed her in the basement of Patrick’s underground casino.
With Miranda’s father in politics and a place of power evenPatrickcouldn’t touch, he would do anything to keep Miranda out of his business.
But that time was over now.
Patrick’s face went sheet white at the sight of her, and he looked around the room like a cornered animal, trying to find a gap in our legs to escape.
“Hi there, Patrick,” Miranda cooed, holding up the digital recorder in her hands. She had short brown hair and glasses too big for her face, the frames of which lifted a bit as she grinned at Patrick.
