Page 52 of Finally Found You

“What do you mean? We saw the paternity test results. Unless…” I pause, my mind racing to make sense of the seemingly impossible. “Is she your niece?”

“No, she’s my daughter. Elsie used an unorthodox way to get pregnant.” His revelation sends chills down my spine as I learn the twisted lengths my aunt went to in her pursuit of wealth. He tells me that his mother paid Elsie to vanish.

And I wonder how much this has to do with all the documents we searched and scanned last week. What is happening with his family? I hesitate, uncertain if I have the right to pry further.

“You know what’s worse?” After a heavy, heartrending silence, he continues, “I know I’m angry, but I’ve suppressed my emotions for so long that I haven’t let any of that out.”

“Why are you angry?” I dare to ask, hoping that whatever he says might snap him out of this numbing state.

“Listen, I love Kenzy, and I’m learning to be a father. However, Elsie fucking stole my spunk and fifteen years of my life with my daughter. Thinking of the ways I can fuck with her life is easy, but I can’t let the anger out. It’s stuck.”

“Therapy,” I mumble, the suggestion slipping out almost involuntarily. “Kenzy needs it too.”

“I already have my people looking into it,” he assures me.

“Will I ever see her again?”

“I’ll fix this. I swear, Cami.”

I believe he’ll do his best to fix what broke between Kenzy and me. Yet I don’t dare to ask what will become of us, of the connection we share. I have to fall out of love and forget that I feel whole when I’m with him—forget that our hearts beat in sync like two halves of one soul.

It’s not true, and it can never happen.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Lysander

Monday morning, I drop Kenzy at an overnight camp Fern found in Oregon. It’s a grief camp similar to the one Heath attended after Dad died. I hadn’t thought about sending her to something like that until Fern emailed me all the information last night. After what happened with Cami, it’s best if she goes—not only with a counselor, but to a place where other teenagers have suffered the loss of a loved one.

Though I’m on standby to be with her whenever she needs me, this is the perfect opportunity to figure out my mother’s involvement with my father’s death and the accident that almost killed my sister-in-law.

Thanks to Gatsby’s private jet, it only takes me a couple of hours to drop her off and return to San Francisco on time to meet with my brothers and uncles. While I wait for them to arrive, I want to review the documents I received from the security company last Friday.

I’ve barely settled into my seat when my office door swings open. It’s Uncle Jensen. The concern etched on his face is unmistakable. “What did you do this time, boy?” His question is laced with a mix of amusement and worry.

My gaze shifts to the clock on the wall. “You’re early,” I remark, raising an eyebrow. “Did you forget Uncle James?”

He shakes his head, his graying hair catching the sunlight from the window. “Nah. He missed his flight and had to wait for a charter to be ready. I figured, since he’s landing at a different airport, I might as well check on you sooner.”

His eyes roam around the office as if searching for something. “Do you have any coffee here, or an assistant to fetch some?” he asks, his tone teasing but genuine. “We should’ve done this at Spearman LP. The coffee on the fifth floor is better than the Starbucks.”

A soft chuckle escapes me as he calls the entire coffee chain “the Starbucks.” It’s kind of endearing. “My office manager quit, and I never thought about having a coffee maker here since I spend most of my time at the vineyard.”

He nods, pulling out his phone. “I guess we have to order some, don’t we? In the meantime, tell me what’s happening. Why did you have to speak to us in person?”

My gaze flicks to the monitor, displaying my mother’s financial information. Finnegan discovered a couple of offshore accounts under her name that funnel money into a bank account she opened long before my father passed away. It’s the same account that paid Elsie to disappear and get rid of my child.

A knot of unease tightens in the pit of my stomach as I turn back to Uncle Jensen, my voice wavering ever so slightly. “How much do you know about my parents’ attempt to divorce?”

He shakes his head, his expression darkening. “That was a messy affair.”

And yet, none of us realized it was happening until I stumbled upon it in his home office.There’s more to this story, and I want to ask the right questions. “Why did it stop? Did they reconcile or… Something must have happened.”

He shakes his head, his gaze heavy with the burden of unsaid words. “You have to let the dead rest. Nothing good will come out of this.”

Determined to get the answers we need, I ask bluntly, “Did you know Mom poisoned our father?”

His eyes widen, one brow shooting up after the other. “What do you mean?”

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