Chapter 89 Do not poke the bear
CHAPTER 89: Do not poke the bear
Chauncey
I stood up, pacing on the rug. “Come on, think about it, you're not the kind of man that'd do something that low, no matter the circumstances. But then… you did.”
“Go on.”
“It's been months. How is it possible that you couldn't remember any of this? You’ve been living with her, looking at her every day. How is it just now coming back? Why now?”
He dragged his palm over his face. “I don't know.” His fist slammed into the desk. “The next morning, I just found myself back at my hotel room. I just assumed I had had too much to drink the previous night, and couldn't remember. I can’t remember the act itself, nor the ‘how’ or ‘why’.”
I looked at him, a cold realization dawning on me. “Silas... what if Vera wasn't the only one that was drugged that night?”
His brows snapped together, his eyes narrowed in suspicion.
“I mean, think about it. If Vane wanted leverage, he’d want you both incapacitated so he could get what he wanted.”
The rage that flickered across Silas’s was unlike anything I had ever seen. It was a cold, calculating fury that was sure to raise hell and leave chaos in its wake.
He pounded his fist on the desk, the sound jarring and bouncing off the walls in the room.
“That swine,” he growled. “I will make him pay,” he vowed, his voice a low, vibrating promise of retribution. “I will strip him of everything he owns, including his own name and leave him to rot in a cell he’ll never leave.”
I couldn't imagine what he was going through, finding out that you were the very cause of the deep seated trauma that your spouse has had to live with everyday.
“I’m with you, brother,” I vowed, pressing a hand to his shoulder, my own anger rising to meet him. “We need to find that vermin, Vane.”
Silas didn't hesitate. He pulled his phone from his pocket and dialed a number I was quite familiar with. Max. Our head of security and the man who handled the things the police couldn't touch.
“This is priority,” he said into the receiver, his voice tight. “I need eyes on Damien Vane. Every port, every private airstrip, every back-alley entrance into this country. The second he touches US soil, I want to know.”
He ended the call and tossed the phone onto the desk.
The silence descended. I almost still couldn't believe that this was reality. I almost laughed at the cruel fate that had brought Vera and my brother together.
But right now, it wasn't just about Vera or my brother. There was someone else involved.
“The baby,” I said, the word hanging between us like a physical object. I felt him tense beneath my fingers. “Silas... the baby is yours. It's your real flesh and blood. It’s a Rutherford.”
He stepped out of my grip, staggering towards the window.
I let out a dry, mirthless chuckle.
“It really is fate’s cruelest joke, isn't it? After everything that happened with Simone. Vera is giving back to you the very thing she took from you. A child. Your heir.”
I looked at him, searching for a sign of the brother I knew. But all I could see was his rigid back. “What do you plan to do? Are you going to tell her?”
He quickly spun back to me.
“Are you going to go back into that room and tell Vera that you are the unknown man that fathered her child?”
“No,” he replied immediately. The answer was so fast, so final, it left no room for debate. “Absolutely not.”
I was surprised he already had time to think through, and come to this decision.
“What do you mean? You can't keep this hidden forever, Silas,” I warned. “She has a right to know. Besides, that's your own flesh and blood.” I paused. “Don't tell me you're not going to accept the child because of the sins of his mother?”
His eyes flashed at me. “What the hell are you talking about?” he snapped.
I stood my ground. “Well? What else am I supposed to think?”
“I am not going to risk the safety of the baby,” he snapped. “The doctor warned that any significant stress…any trauma, could have catastrophic consequences for the pregnancy.”
“I thought the child was no longer in danger. Vera told me she was cleared from the danger zone.”
“Yes. But If I tell her this now, in her state, like you’re suggesting, it could jeopardise the pregnancy. The baby—my baby may die.” His gaze pinned me to the spot. “I won't lose another one.”
It gave me a sense of relief that his decision was borne of his concern for the safety of his unborn child.
I studied him, seeing the tension in his jaw and the way he avoided my eyes. There was something else…something he didn't want to admit, probably because he couldn't understand it himself.
“Is that the only reason? Or are you also afraid?”
“Afraid of what?”
“Afraid of seeing in her eyes the same loathing and disgust she saw in yours when you found out about what she had done.”
The flicker in his eyes told me I was right.
“Stop talking nonsense, Chaunce.”
“Am i?” I inclined my head. “You’re scared of her loathing. You’re scared that the moment she knows the truth, she might not see you the same way anymore. It disturbs you that she might hate you.”
My brother’s eyes flashed with a defensive fire. “I don't care about her loathing. I care about the child. I care about this family. Your psychological theories are irrelevant."
I didn't believe him for a second, but I didn't push. It wasn't the right time to poke the bear. We were both standing on a precipice, and a shove from me might send not just him over, but myself as well.
“And Claudia?” I asked. “What about our sister? Are you going to tell her the truth just yet?”
I loved Claudia. But personally, I didn't think it was a good idea at this point.
“She won't find out yet,” he replied firmly. “No one finds out. Not until I say so. This remains between us.”
I nodded, though my gut was telling me this secret was a ticking bomb.
“Fine,” I folded my arms across my chest. “But first things first, brother. We need to find that fraud. We need to make sure he doesn't sing to the wrong crowd.”