Page 132 of Lee

When he filled out the information from it.

When he’d hovered his mouse cursor over the subscribe button.

And finally, as he’d clicked to start the first of the three-episode docu-series.

Unfortunately, he’d stupidly moved past all of those points, assuming it couldn’t be that bad. Only, it had been worse than bad. It had been absolutely horrific. But once he’d started it, he’d needed to push through to the end. To know exactly what had happened.

It was his life, after all.

The first episode had sent him running for the bathroom, his stomach heaving. Episode two, it was more of the same.

By the third episode, he had steeled himself against what was to come. Still, watching it had left him nauseous and feeling like he was on the edge of throwing up.

When he’d told Charli that he had an upset stomach, he hadn’t been lying. Even though days had passed, he still hadn’t been able to shake the nausea, and he had no appetite at all.

Thankfully, the nausea and vomiting had given him a valid excuse to keep his distance from everyone. Including Rori…

The pain in his heart deepened as Lee thought about her. If he’d known back when he’d first met her what he knew now, he never would have gotten involved with her.

This situation wasn’t fair to her. It wasn’t fair to him, either. And it most definitely wasn’t fair to his brother, who’d died by the hands of his parents.

Lee knew that there were murderers who had children, and he was sure those children struggled to accept that they’d inherited their killer parent’s DNA. Was it different to know that his murderous parents hadn’t killed a stranger? That they’d had it in them to abuse and kill their own flesh and blood?

The documentary had revealed that there had been some people who’d felt that his father had coerced his mother into going along with his mistreatment of Lee and his brother. And the jury had apparently agreed to some extent because she’d gotten a lighter sentence and was up for parole for the first time later that year.

Ian. The brother he couldn’t remember.

However, having watched the documentary, Lee now had images of his brother—both good and bad—that he couldn’t get out of his mind. There had been some visuals in the envelope from the detective. But they hadn’t been graphic.

The docu-series, however, had contained pictures he didn’t want to believe could be real. Truly horrific images of crime scenes and injuries. It was more explicit than should have been shown on television.

However, the thing that had broken Lee’s heart completely was seeing home videos and pictures of an adorable little boy who had had his light snuffed out far too early in his life.

Lee could see how much he and his brother looked alike. He thought of the pictures on his parents’ wall—he refused to call the people who’d birthed him his parents—and he knew what he looked like at the age of five. He and Ian could have been twins for how alike they looked.

But he would never know his brother as a man. He would never know if they’d continued to look alike. If Ian would have carried into adulthood the laughter and happiness that Lee had seen in the videos.

Would he, like Lee, have grown to closely resemble their biological father?

Lee let out a long exhale as he flopped back on the bed. After laying there for a moment, he crawled up to his pillows and dragged the duvet back over him. He didn’t need to get up just yet.

He had to pull himself together. There was no way that he could continue to blame a stomach bug for the way he was acting without the medical professionals in the family stepping in. And he really didn’t want that.

But how was he supposed to get to the point where he didn’t feel shattered and unmoored? His new reality dominated his thoughts, and he didn’t know how to escape it.

He probably could use the services of a mental health professional, but he had no idea how to broach why he was seeking help. He didn’t want to compromise anything by revealing that he was alive when the world thought he was dead.

Lee still didn’t know if his parents were aware of his history. His hand went to the scar across his side. He’d asked his parents about it as a kid, and they’d told him he’d been injured in an accident. Was that what they’d been told as a way to explain any injuries he had when he’d been turned over to their care?

If they didn’t know the truth, what would they say if they learned about it now? How about his siblings? Would they worry about him being around their children?

Lee’s heart pulsed with pain at the thought.

And what did he do about his relationship with Rori?

He wanted to just keep things as they’d been. Unfortunately, that wasn’t possible. The information he’d received had fundamentally changed him. He wasn’t the same person he’d been before the private detective had handed over all the info on his life.

The worst part of what he’d learned about his biological father was that he hadn’t always been an abusive, murdering man. His three adult daughters from his first marriage said he’d never lifted a finger against them or their mom.

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