Chapter 37 ANOTHER HIDDEN CHILD?

Chapter 37 ANOTHER HIDDEN CHILD?
RONAN POV

The call comes in while I’m reviewing documents I’ve already read twice and still can’t make sense of.

“Sir,” David’s calm voice filters through the intercom from downstairs, “you have a visitor. He says his name is Alec. Should I send him up?”

I pause, fingers stilling on the tablet in my hand.

Alec?

The name means nothing to me. I replay it in my head, searching my memory for any association—business, enemies, lawyers, distant relatives but come up empty.

Unless my mother has finally lost her patience and decided to send a hired killer to finish me off, who knows what Victoria’s silence could mean but I doubt anyone named Alec is here to shoot me in cold blood.

Still, with my family, anything is possible.

“Send him up, David,” I reply after a beat. “Thank you.”

The line disconnects.

I set the tablet aside and lean back on the sofa, rubbing my thumb against my jaw. My instincts are already on edge, the familiar tension coiling in my chest. Ever since Harrison Blackthorne, my father died, nothing has stayed buried. Secrets keep clawing their way to the surface, one after another, like my father made it his life’s mission to destroy us all even from the grave.

It doesn’t take up to two minutes before I hear a knock on the door.

Sharp. Confident.

“Come in,” I say, rising to my feet.

The door opens and my world tilts.

For a split second, I’m convinced I’m hallucinating.

The man who walks in looks like a younger version of my father. Same dark hair. Same sharp cheekbones. Same piercing eyes that once made boardrooms go silent and grown men sweat. Even the way he carries himself. The rigid shoulders, the controlled stride—it’s all painfully familiar.

My chest tightens.

He stops a few feet away from me and speaks in a voice that is cold, steady, and unmistakably angry.

“Good morning, brother.”

The word hits me like a punch.

“What the hell?” I breathe.

He gives a humorless smile. “It’s nice to meet you too.”

I take a step back, disbelief crashing over me in waves. “Who are you,” I demand, “and how the fuck did you find this place?”

His eyes flick briefly around my living room, assessing, calculating, then return to me.

“I’m Alec Blackthorne,” he says. “And I’ve known you since I was born. I just never knew you were my brother and so it was easy to find you because I thought you were our family friend’s child, I thought you were my dead father’s brother’s child.”

My heart slams violently against my ribs.

“That changed though,” he continues calmly, “when our father died and my mother finally decided to confess two weeks ago.”

I let out a harsh laugh. “You expect me to believe this nonsense? You walk into my house uninvited, claim to be my brother, and think I’ll just accept it?”

Alec scoffs softly. “Trust me when I say I don’t want to be here either.”

He gestures between us. “Apart from the resemblance I share with our dad” ” he air-quotes the word with clear disdain “—I came prepared.”

He reaches into his jacket and pulls out a slim envelope.

“I have a DNA report. My mother had it done with Harrison’s help when I was born.”

My jaw clenches.

“If that’s true,” I say slowly, “then why weren’t you mentioned in the will?”

For the first time, something raw flashes across his face.

“Because according to my mother,” Alec replies, voice hardening, “he wanted me hidden.”

Hidden.

The word settles heavily between us.

“He built a second family in the shadows,” Alec continues, bitterness bleeding through his composure, “and made sure we stayed there. But someone has been messing with my family lately, and I won’t tolerate that.”

My eyes narrow. “And you think that someone is me?”

“No,” he answers immediately. “You don’t have the heart to hurt a fly, but I do.”

The bluntness startles me.

“And you thought it was a good idea,” I say dangerously, “to walk into my home alone after saying something like that?”

He meets my gaze without flinching. “I did my research before coming here, Ronan. Like I said, I’ve known of you since I was little.”

My blood runs cold.

“I’ve seen what you’ve done to put that witch you call a mother in her place,” he continues, tone almost approving. “No offense.”

I snort. “None taken.”

“I’ve seen how far you’ve gone to protect our sister,” he says. “And that’s why I’m here.”

I fold my arms across my chest. “Get to the point.”

“I’m not here for the inheritance,” Alec says. “My father left enough for me—quietly. Off the books. I’m here because I want Victoria Blackthorne to back off.”

The name makes my jaw tighten instinctively.

“And how exactly do you plan on doing that?” I ask.

He steps closer, eyes burning with determination. “By joining forces with you.”

Silence stretches.

I study him carefully now. He can’t be more than twenty-five or twenty-six, yet the anger in his eyes is old. Seasoned. This isn’t a boy chasing power. No, this is someone who’s been watching from the sidelines for far too long, who has planned and unplanned.

“I appreciate you coming here, Alec,” I say finally. “But the best way to help us is to stay away.”

His brows furrow.

“There’s too much heat on Annabelle already,” I continue. “I won’t drag another innocent family into this mess.”

“Innocent?” he repeats, letting out a sharp laugh. “You think we’re innocent just because we were hidden?”

“I think you and your mother deserve to be safe,” I counter. “And that means staying far away from Victoria.”

I pause, then add, “I will need that DNA report.”

Alec smirks. “I figured you’d say that.”

He walks over to the center table and drops the envelope with deliberate care.

“My card and the DNA report are inside,” he says. “But let me be clear, Ronan—I’m not asking you for permission.”

I look up sharply.

“I’m here to protect my mother and myself,” he continues. “If you don’t want my help, I’ll handle things alone.”

That doesn’t sit well with me.

“But if you change your mind,” he adds, backing away toward the door, “you know how to reach me.”

He pauses, hand on the handle, and looks back at me one last time.

“I have evidence against Victoria,” he says quietly. “Things that would shock you.”

My stomach drops.

“And the only way you’ll ever see them,” he finishes, “is if you accept my help.”

With that, he opens the door.

“Have a wonderful day, brother.”

Then he’s gone.

The door clicks shut softly behind him, like he was never here at all.

I stand there for a long moment, staring at the envelope on the table.

Slowly, I walk over and pick it up. My hands feel heavier than they should as I slide out the documents. My eyes skim the report once… twice…

The results are unmistakable.

Harrison Blackthorne: 99.9% probability of paternity.

I exhale shakily and drop onto the sofa.

Another secret.

Another lie.

I run a hand through my hair and stare up at the ceiling, laughter bubbling out of me. Low and incredulous.

Just how many hidden children does Harrison Blackthorne have?

And how many more are waiting to destroy what’s left of us?