Page 47 of The Villains We Make

Horatio nods, his expression darkening at the mention of the envelope.

“What was in it, exactly? Then, I mean. How much does he know?”

He glances at Higgins, sits back in his chair, and shifts his gaze to me.

“He knows she’s a Carlisle-Bent. He thought he knew that I kidnapped her mother. Those newspaper clippings were what was inside that envelope along with copies of our driver’s licenses, both mine and Claire’s.”

“Does he know you’re not her biological father?” I ask outright. “Because the old man confirmed that Fox made sure she was a Carlisle-Bent. I assume he did that with a DNA test, DNA he’d have obtained easily enough when she was with Ethan. But that makes her Claire’s daughter and he’d have no reason to believe you’re not her father. At least I don’t think so. Am I correct?”

“You are.”

“The bloodwork that was included in the paperwork I found in the box hidden in your office, he’s never seen that?”

“He’s never seen it, no.”

“So Sly doesn’t know that you’re not her biological father?”

“I don’t think so.”

“You don’t think so? But you don’t know for sure?”

“It’s not exactly a question you can ask without raising suspicion, is it? No. I don’t know for sure. But if he did know, he’d have used the information against me by now.”

I inhale, exhale. I’m not sure that’s good enough. “Why would you keep it, Horatio? Why keep the evidence?”

After a long moment, he sighs, and it’s as though he’s come to terms with something. “Because it was in Phee’s biological father’s best interest to keep our whereabouts a secret.”

This is a turn I don’t expect. “So, you were using that information to blackmail Ophelia’s biological father?”

He nods gravely.

I look at Higgins then Horatio. “What the fuck am I missing?”

“Higgins. Can you step out for a minute?”

Higgins nods, gets up and leaves the room, closing the door behind him.

Horatio studies me and I imagine he’s weighing his options, deciding what he can and cannot—what he should and should not—tell me.

“You need to come clean. Completely clean.”

He gets up, walks a few steps away, keeping his back to me. “The suicide note. Do you remember what it said?”

I remain seated, watching his back. I can still see the handwritten note, the blotched ink where I imagine tears spilled, his and hers.

I’m sorry. I can’t look at her. I can’t stand it. I’m sorry.

Claire

“I remember.”

“She couldn’t stand it because when she looked at Phee,” he starts, turning to face me, any anger or abruptness gone from his voice. “She didn’t see herself. I did. I only saw Claire in Phee.”

I wait as he pushes a hand into his hair and shakes his head.

“Who is he? Who did she see?” I ask and a sense of dread fills me. Because I think I might be able to guess. I think only one thing makes sense.

Horatio sits down, shoulders slumped. “You can’t tell her, Silas. Phee can never find out. Can you promise me that?”

---