Chapter 20
“Brother.”
Declan’s voice was ice.
“You’re going to prison.”
“Probably.”
“You touched my wife.”
“She wasn’t your wife much longer.”
Declan lunged.
Agents stopped him.
I remained still.
“You threatened my daughters.”
Alexander looked at me.
“No.”
“You sent the photo.”
“Yes.”
“With a threat.”
“A threat designed to get his attention.”
“They are children.”
“I was never going to hurt them.”
“That’s what every monster says after he gets caught.”
Something changed in his expression.
“I’m not asking forgiveness.”
“Good.”
“I’m offering information.”
“Then talk.”
Alexander leaned back.
“Charles is preparing to leave the country.”
“Where?”
“Private airstrip near Macon.”
“When?”
“Tonight.”
Agents listening outside were already moving.
I stared at him.
“Why surrender?”
“Because Charles ordered me to kill the girls.”
Silence.
Declan went still.
Alexander looked at him.
“Our father has become obsessed with succession.”
“They’re children.”
“They’re Hawthorne blood.”
“Your blood,” I said.
He looked at me.
Pain crossed his face for the first time.
“Yes.”
I wanted to hate him cleanly.
Completely.
Then he whispered:
“I didn’t know they existed until six months ago.”
My mind stopped.
“What?”
“I knew you became pregnant.”
“You knew?”
“Yes.”
“You knew what you did could create a pregnancy.”
“Yes.”
“You let me believe you were Declan.”
His jaw tightened.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
He looked at his hands.
“Charles told me to.”
Declan whispered:
“What?”
Alexander laughed bitterly.
“I told you.
We were auditions.”
He looked at me.
“Charles knew your marriage was failing.
He knew you were investigating Bellweather.
His original plan was to destroy your credibility.”
“How?”
“Get you pregnant by someone who wasn’t your husband.”
My stomach turned.
“He wanted Declan to believe I cheated.”
“Yes.”
“And because you’re genetically identical…”
“No simple paternity test could expose what happened.”
The cruelty was breathtaking.
“Why?”
“Because scandal would destroy you.
The divorce would destroy your access to Hawthorne records.
Declan would hate you.
You would hate him.
Everyone separates.”
I whispered:
“And you agreed?”
Alexander’s eyes filled.
“I was twenty-nine years old and had spent twelve years being told that if I did everything Charles asked, one day he would acknowledge me as his son.”
I laughed.
“That’s your explanation?”
“No.”
“Then what is?”
“I don’t have one.”
Good.
At least he understood.
He continued.
“I learned about the triplets six months ago because Charles discovered them.”
“How?”
“Private investigator.”
“Why now?”
“Your company submitted a bid involving federal remediation work connected to Bellweather.