Page 55 of Reign

“What did you just say?” I whisper while circling him, my breaths haggard.

He glares at me.

“Answer me!”

“Emma Loughrey is not mine,” he repeats, holding steady. “Why do you think I was more than happy to allow her to take your mother’s last name? She is the product of Marilee’s weak heart.”

“The fuck is that supposed to mean?” I respond, still whispering, still barely breathing.

“She’s adopted. When you were two years old, your mother came across a young girl during her charity work. Lovely Marilee decided it was better to work in a homeless teen counseling center than go to college after marrying me—the heir to an empire who put a four-carat diamond on her finger. One of her female cretans had an unwanted toddler, malnourished, dirty vermin. I blame it on the goddamned hormones, but Marilee wanted this child. She hemorrhaged after having you and was told she couldn’t have another. She was desperate for you to have a sibling, and at the time, I wasn’t around much—”

“Already fucking Sabine, I bet.” But the words have no passion. I’m numbed. Sucked dry.

“Watch your mouth, boy. I allowed it, didn’t I? You got yourself a sister, Marilee decided to make you two twins, and I was blessed with two assholes instead of one.”

“Father of the Year,” I say through gritted teeth.

“I care about you,” Father says in defense as he rises out of his hunch. “Educated you, taught you, made you the prince to all this.” He sweeps his arm out. “Don’t you dare be disrespectful in the house you stand in solely because of my efforts.”

“How about the basement you kept Emma in, when all she wanted to do was escape you? Why didn’t you let her? If you wanted nothing to do with her, why keep her after she tried so desperately to leave? All I’m hearing is that Emma was trash to you, so you allowed Sabine to do what she wanted with her. You sanctioned young Virtues to be made into pets for your Noble alumni. You betrayed your daughter—because yes, she is your daughter, legally and in all the ways that matter—you never told her she was unwanted, just made her believe it. We’re nothing but objects to you, are we, Father? Profits and gains.”

“There is nothing profitable about you,” Father spits through a trembling jaw. “Your grandfather practically sewed into me the importance of preserving the Stone line, so much so, I impregnated a girl at the neighboring Dover Shores so he’d shut the hell up. And when that girl found out she was having a boy? I’ll admit, I aimed high when it came to my only son. Married her, accepted her goddamned bleeding heart of a baby girl, but here you are, flipping through old files instead of solidifying your rightful place as prince and taking control of our initiates, still trying to save Calla Lily. But now I’ll say, go ahead.” He waves at me in dismissal, but his lips twist into a sneer. “I can’t do anything with a child who focuses so hard on saving other people because he’s too broken to fix himself.”

It takes a severe amount of effort to stay calm through his ruthlessness. It always has. “Doing what is right does not make me flawed.”

“Thinking I needed a son to maintain my power over the Nobles is the flaw I’m most ashamed of,” Father retorts. “Sabine has taught me just how unnecessary you are, as well as your sister and Calla Lily. You were meant to be my mirror image. Instead, you reflect the worst parts of me. You and Emma may not be blood-related, but you were raised as twins. You’ve inherited her knack for self-mutilation. Get out of here, boy, before I remind you what true anger looks like.”

Shaking with wrath, I step toward the door.

Then shoot my arm out and go for his throat.

Father catches me mid-swipe, twisting my arm behind my back until I fold over, my throat clogged with pain.

“Try that again, son,” Father mutters near my ear, “and your athletic status will be sorely wanting as you await your sports scholarship from Princeton.”

“Fuck you,” I hiss through the searing tendons gripping my shoulder, my neck, my jaw.

“Indeed.”

Father releases his hold and I stumble forward, my cheeks pulsing with indignation and rebellion.

When I jerk towards him, he throws up a hand. “As for the curiosity that brought you here, allow me to squash that as well.”

He moves toward a lower cabinet. I eye him, holding my shoulder, as he pulls open a drawer, takes out the files and lifts a false bottom, revealing a thick, brown leather book.

“The Virtues’ original handbook. Written by Rose Briar, I believe, and revised by Prudence Harrington. Should be some quiet reading for you.”

My stare pings from the drawer, to the book, to my father. “Why have you hidden it?”

“For the same reasons we kept the baby Briar birth certificate in my vault all these years, before you and your weak spot decided to weaponize it.” He jerks his chin toward the door. “You’ll soon discover where you fall, son. Until then, I highly recommend you allow Sabine to do as she pleases when it comes to Calla Lily Ryan.”

“Never,” I say, but Father shoves the book at me and stalks past me without another word.

I stay where I am, digging my fingers into my wounded shoulder while my slack hand holds onto the book, trying make sense of his revelations.

Twisting my world.

And forcing my hand when it comes to Callie.

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