Page 31 of Shattered Empire (Shattered World)

“It’s more than that,” I whispered. “Whoever he is, he’s pretending to be Seamus, down to his very looks.”

“That’s insane.” Liam shook his head. “There is no possible way that someone is impersonating your grandfather.”

“I have proof.”

“Let’s see it then.”

The pain in my chest deepened. The knife Liam had shoved into my heart twisted deeper at his stubborn refusal. I told him once that I refused to be the daughter of a man who dismissed my cares and worries as if they were nothing more than dirt underfoot. I warned him of the strain it would cause. He was proud to call me daughter, he told me, but he wasn’t acting like it.

At this moment, I wasn’t proud to call him my father.

Vas, who had been sitting by my side, hands clenched into fists as his anger rose, shoved his phone at Liam. Both photos were time stamped. One was the photo of my mother’s graduation, and the second was an airport security photo.

The man in the photo was an exact match to Seamus McDonough with one glaring difference.

The silver cross cane.

Liam stared at the evidence, eyes wide, searching for proof that we were wrong. He couldn’t deny it anymore, however. The truth was before him, plain as day, and he would be a fool if he attempted to refute what was before him.

“This…” The disbelief in his voice killed me. The hurt and sadness reflected in his eyes made me want to hold him. Comfort him. But now wasn’t the time. Over time, his face hardened, his eyes narrowing at the man in the picture. He was coming to terms with the truth. “Tell me more.”

CHAPTER EIGHT

It was several hours later when the truth was finally hashed out and the facts were laid bare. Disbelief and pain lingered behind my father’s eyes. We both knew what it meant if the man at the gala hadn’t been Seamus McDonough.

I recalled the fear in Sheila’s eyes that night when the man parading around as my grandfather approached us. She knew he wasn’t who he said he was. How long had she known? Was she aware of his true identity? I highly doubted she was involved willingly. The panic and horror she displayed that night were real.

So why was she playing along? What did he have over her?

I knew one thing for sure. If Sheila knew that man wasn’t her husband, then there was very little doubt in my mind that he was dead. From the crestfallen look on Liam’s face, he’d made the same conclusion.

“I don’t understand.” Tears shone in his emerald eyes, refusing to fall. “How many years has this been going on? Why? What purpose…”

“There might be someone who can answer that for you,” Aine told us gently. “She’ll be able to tell you her story.”

Brow creasing, my gaze fixed on the woman who’d been nearly silent the entire conversation.

“Who?”

Her eyes met mine and without hesitation she said, “Your mother.”

I barked a laugh, the sound tainted with icy bitterness. “She’s dead,” I reminded her.

“But the evidence left behind tells a story she can’t.” Aine gazed at me, her eyes soft and understanding. “We needed to be sure, though.”

“About?”

Her gaze turned to Liam. “That everyone would go in open to the truth,” she told us sadly. “Because if I’m right—the truth might break one of you.”

“Show us,” Liam demanded.

* * *

The streets surrounding me were oddly familiar. Flashes of my childhood stretched out before me, but there was nothing concrete. I might have played on that playground. Is that where my mother took me for dinner one time?

Gradually, the memories that had faded over time resurfaced the closer and more familiar the neighborhood became. There wasn’t much that had changed. Houses were repainted. Streets were re-paved, but it seemed as if everything was the same.

Including our house.

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