Chapter 66 You're my uncle.

Diana

"Don't what? Don't be upset that my entire life is a lie? That the man I've been starting to trust has been using me from the beginning?" I stood up, needing to move, to do something with the angry coursing through me.

"It wasn't use." Bernard insisted, standing as well. "The attraction between us was never part of any plan. It was unexpected. Unaccounted for. And extremely... complicated."

I caught something in his tone, a hesitation that made me pause. "Complicated how? What aren't you telling me now?"

Bernard's jaw tightened, and I could see him struggling with something.

"Bernard," I demanded, "What else is there?"

He took a deep breath. "There's one more thing you need to know, Diana. Something that makes this situation even more... difficult."

"What could possibly make this worse?" I asked, my voice rising. "You've already told me I'm a kidnapped heiress whose entire life is a lie!"

Bernard's gaze didn't waver. "Gregory Morris isn't just your grandfather. He's my father."

The words hung in the air between us as I tried to process their meaning.

"What are you saying?" I whispered, though part of me already understood.

"Elizabeth Morris is my sister," Bernard said quietly. "Which makes me, technically speaking... your uncle."

I felt the room sway around me. "My uncle?" The words came out as a strangled whisper. "I kissed my uncle?"

I stumbled backward, my legs hitting a chair as I collapsed into it. "This can't be real. This has to be some kind of sick joke."

"I wish it were," Bernard said, his voice strained. "The familial connection is what made everything so... delicate in terms of approach."

"Delicate?" I echoed, my voice rising hysterically. "We kissed, Bernard! In Tokyo. At your penthouse. And you knew? You knew the whole time we were related?"

"Yes," he admitted, his face tight with what looked like genuine anguish. "It's why I tried to maintain professional distance initially. But the attraction between us—"

"Stop!" I held up my hand. "Just stop. I don't want to hear about attraction. Not now. Not when you're telling me you're my uncle." I felt physically ill, remembering every moment of closeness between us, the kiss that had haunted my dreams.

"It's not quite that simple," Bernard said cautiously.

"How is it not simple?" I demanded, my voice breaking. "Either you're my uncle or you're not!"

"I am, legally, your uncle," Bernard clarified. "But there's no blood relation between us. I was adopted by Gregory Morris when I was seventeen, after my parents died. I have no biological connection to the Morris family."

I stared at him, trying to process this additional complication. "So you're my... what? Step-uncle? Adopted uncle? Does that actually make it better in your mind?"

Bernard moved toward his desk, putting distance between us. "I'm simply stating facts, Diana. The lack of biological connection is relevant information."

"It's still a betrayal," I said, my voice shaking. "You let me feel things for you, knowing who I was, knowing how we were connected."

"I tried to resist it," Bernard said quietly. "I never intended for any personal feelings to develop."

"And what exactly was the plan?" I demanded. "Hire me for this job, gradually reveal my true identity, and then what? I become the happy heiress, reunited with my birth family like some twisted Hallmark movie? At what point were you planning to mention, 'Oh, by the way, I'm technically your uncle'?"

My voice cracked on the word "uncle," the reality of what that meant still hammering at me.

"The initial plan was more cautious," Bernard admitted. "Bring you into the company. Let you develop relationships with the Morris Industries family. Then gradually introduce the possibility of your connection."

"And our relationship? Was that in the plan too?" I asked bitterly.

"No," Bernard said, his voice firm. "That was never intended. I tried to maintain professional distance precisely because of the familial connection."

"But you failed," I said flatly.

"Yes," he acknowledged. "I failed."

"And then you let me kiss you," I continued, the nausea rising again at the memory. "Knowing who I was to you."

Bernard's expression tightened with what looked like genuine remorse. "It was a mistake. One I've been struggling with since Tokyo."

"My personal interest in you has nothing to do with your heritage or our legal connection."

"How can I possibly believe that?" I challenged. "How can I separate what's real from what's been carefully orchestrated? This whole situation is insane! You're my uncle, Bernard! My uncle!"

I couldn't stop saying it, each repetition making me feel sicker.

"Adoptive uncle," he corrected quietly. "With no biological relation."

"As if that makes it better!" I shouted, beyond caring who might hear outside his office. "You knew exactly who I was, what our relationship was, and you still let it happen!"

"Diana—"

"And my mother?" I asked suddenly, needing to change the subject before I completely lost it. "You mentioned my mother's features. You called her your sister. Is she still alive?"

A shadow passed over Bernard's face. "Elizabeth is alive, yes."

"But?" I prompted, sensing there was more.

Bernard hesitated. "She's been in a... diminished state for many years. The trauma of your kidnapping affected her deeply."

"What does that mean, exactly? Is she sick?"

"She experienced a severe psychological break after your disappearance," Bernard explained carefully. "She's been under specialized care ever since."

I sank into the chair, the weight of this revelation hitting me hard. My birth mother—Bernard's adoptive sister—had essentially lost her mind because of my kidnapping. "So she doesn't even know I've been found?"

"She has periods of lucidity," Bernard said. "Gregory has informed her during those times, but it's unclear how much she comprehends."

I covered my face with my hands. "This is too much. All of it. It's just too much."

I felt Bernard move closer, though he didn't touch me. "I understand this is overwhelming. Take whatever time you need to process. The Morris family has waited twenty-eight years; they can wait a little longer."

I dropped my hands, looking up at him. "What about us, Bernard? What happens to... whatever this is between us... now that I know the truth?"

Something flashed in his eyes—vulnerability, perhaps. "That's entirely up to you, Diana. My feelings haven't changed. But I understand if yours have."

"I don't even know what my feelings are right now," I admitted. "Everything's all mixed up. I don't know what's real anymore."

"I am," Bernard said quietly. "My interest in you—my personal interest—is real. Unplanned and inconvenient given the circumstances, but real nonetheless."

I studied his face, looking for any sign of deception. Bernard had always been hard to read, his emotions kept carefully in check. But there was an intensity in his gaze now that seemed genuine.

"I need time," I said finally. "Time to process all of this. Time to figure out what I want to do next."

Bernard nodded. "Of course. Take all the time you need."

"And I want to know more," I added, my mind already racing with questions. "About the kidnapping. About the Morris family. About my... birth mother. About your adoption into the family." I needed to understand how he had become my uncle, how he had joined this family that was apparently mine by birth.

"I'll give you access to all the information we have," Bernard promised. "The complete file."

I stood again, feeling suddenly claustrophobic in his office. "I need to go. I need to think."

"Diana," Bernard called as I reached the door. "There's one more thing you should know."

I paused, looking back at him, wondering what other bombshell he could possibly drop. "What's that?"