Page 49 of The Villains We Make

I shake my head, turn to the door.

“Silas. She can’t know. She can’t ever?—”

I leave.

I walk out of that room in stunned, stupid silence. I knew what he’d say. I think I did, at least. It makes sense. It’s the only thing that makes sense.

“Silas?” Higgins asks when I pass him as he’s returning, but his voice is an echo, and I just keep walking until I’m out of the building and standing in the bracingly cold air. I draw in gulps of breath. My heart is racing and everything, all the words, this terrible truth, it’s all spinning round and round in my head as I try to make sense of something too terrible to make sense.

Chandler, Ophelia’s uncle, is her father.

I cross the parking lot to the SUV.

Chandler raped his half-sister. And she got pregnant.

I hit the button to unlock the door and climb in. I start the engine and when I drive, it’s on auto pilot.

What happened next makes sense, Horatio blackmailing Chandler. There’s no way he’d have been able to keep himself and Claire hidden from the old man. Not with the power and money he had at his disposal. But Chandler must have had access to that money, to some extent, and he had motivation enough to keep her gone. He needed to hide his secret, his crime, from his stepfather, so paying Horatio to stay away and keep Claire and her child away was exactly what he wanted.

I remember how he looked at Ophelia, standing in that bar as we left the hotel hours ago. With malice in his eyes, he watched her. He was in the limousine with Ethan. He’d already made some deal with Ethan. When I laid out my suspicions to Ophelia as far as Ethan’s plans for her, I believed, still do, that Ethan does not have the stomach for murder. But the look in Chandler’s eyes and the way he watched Ophelia? I think his stomach may be stronger. Strong enough.

After all, isn’t rape a sort of murder? Murder of the soul.

Sly had found Gordon because the old man’s money was what he was interested in. Chandler being disinherited, that only helped Sly. Ethan and Chandler’s alliance, that is the thing to watch.

So, the old man found out? He must have. It’s why he disinherited Chandler. Has to be. Claire was his golden child, and he learned the truth of who hurt her and why she disappeared from his life.

I go back over the conversation in that hotel room. The way he spoke about Horatio wasn’t with hatred. It wasn’t with love, either, but what did he say? Something about learning too late what Horatio had done for his daughter.

He never once called Horatio Ophelia’s father. I did notice that throughout the conversation. I wonder if Ophelia did. But she wouldn’t. I did because I knew what to listen for.

And I understand now the urgency with which Horatio needed to keep that secret. He’s right. It will destroy her if she knows. A child of rape. Worse.

“Jesus Christ.”

I recall the old man’s words when Chandler left the penthouse via the elevator.

I’d prefer he used the balcony and made a final exit but no such luck.

I’d thought it was strange but not out of character for the man I met.

When I’d asked about the sitting duck comment, what had he said?

He has enemies enough. And what he did for my daughter, well, I learned that too late of course, but I remember.

He knows. He surely knows.

I blink and, as if waking, look around to take in my surroundings and realize where I am. I am driving up along the cliffs, up toward the chapel. I turn around and head back to Sinistral, to the hotel. I take out my phone as I drive and message Nigella to keep Ophelia there. She sends a thumbs up emoji.

I pull into the lot of The Sinistral and park the SUV. It’s a quiet night. I stop at the concierge desk to ask her to call up to the penthouse and let Carlisle-Bent know I want to see him. Just like this morning, I am sent up right away.

I’m not sure what I expect to see when I get up there, not sure if Chandler will be there or what I will do if he is. When the elevator doors open, I find the old man in his chair, although he’s wearing pajamas now and has a blanket draped over his legs. The nurses are all there, but Chandler is absent from the room.

“My granddaughter is not with you?”

“I need to talk to you. Alone.”

He takes a moment to study me, then nods. “All right. Out. Everyone out.”

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