Page 67 of Vicious King

The attitude that a captive woman’s body was seemingly okay to ‘ruin’ was even worse.

My face hardened. “So the wives of third-level members are all in on it?”

“Oh, no. They’ll know there’s a surrogate that we’ve arranged, but they are blissfully unaware of the truth behind it,” Davenport said. He looked so fucking gleeful. I wanted to smash his face into the granite.

I turned to look at my father. “So that’s how I was really born, then? Mom couldn’t get pregnant so you took a girl and used her as a surrogate?”

He shifted his weight, looking nervous for the first time. “Not exactly. You were a special case, Elias. It wasn’t planned at all.”

I folded my arms. “I’m listening.”

“Again, I apologize for keeping the truth from you for so long. I didn’t like it, believe me. But anyway…” He paused and coughed. “Your biological mother was a woman named Camille Gorham. I first saw her in New Marwick one day back in 1991 when I went to visit Garrett at Roden. Or maybe it was 1992.” He frowned and shook his head. “Anyway, I wanted her the second I laid eyes on her. I looked into her background and quickly figured her parents would never sell her to us. They were good people. A respectable family. So I didn’t even bother asking. I just took her instead. Got the girl I wanted and saved myself a few hundred grand in the process.”

Everyone chuckled at that. Hilarious.

Fucking scum.

“I’ve heard about that case,” I said, once again feigning ignorance. “A lot of people use her name in those dumb old Roden Strangler urban myths.”

He smiled. “Yes. Anyway, I made her my slave. She was a tough one. Lots of fight in her. A lot like your Tatum, actually. But that was exactly what I needed at the time as I was going through a rough patch with your mother, due to our difficulties in conceiving a child.”

“I see.” I gritted my teeth again. That poor woman.

“One day I discovered she was pregnant, with a boy. I suppose I wasn’t being careful enough with contraception. Or I may have been careless on purpose in a sort of subconscious way. After all, I wanted a child and she came from a decent family. Good genes. I knew she’d give me a strong, healthy son. So we kept it.”

“We?” I arched a scornful eyebrow.

“Well, I made her keep it, more specifically,” he said. He chuckled, and then his face darkened again. “I convinced Sylvie it was a blessing. Convinced her to raise you as her own child. I made it seem like Camille was just some stupid young woman I was having an affair with, but eventually she figured out the truth. When you were just three months old, I caught Sylvie trying to run away with you and Camille. They intended to tell everyone, and they were going to keep you from me. My son.”

I felt ice creeping through my veins. “So you killed both women?”

“Kill is such a strong word,” he said. “I prefer ‘disposed of’.”

His words sliced into me like a hot knife through butter. “Right. So Sylvie never actually gave birth to me. Or died during the process, like you told me.”

“I’m sorry, Elias. I had to tell you something when you were younger, to cover the truth.”

I didn’t bother asking why he’d come up with that particular lie. No point; he’d have some bullshit excuse. But he could’ve told me Sylvie died of cancer, or was killed in a car accident… anything other than that she died giving birth to me. For so long, I’d felt an overwhelming sense of guilt over that. I’d never told anyone about it, but it was always there, this creeping sense of culpability. I killed my own mother.

Now I knew she wasn’t even my mother, and yet she died for me anyway, along with my real mother, Camille. They both made that ultimate sacrifice in order to try and save me from my father’s icy grip. But they failed. He got to them.

I wasn’t going to let their deaths be in vain, though. I was now more determined than ever to find some way to take down Crown and Dagger. My father especially.

I put on a stoic face. “Like I said, I’ve actually read about the Camille Gorham cold case before. Did you know some of her friends and family members are still searching for her, all these years later?”

Dad nodded. “I’m aware, yes.”

“It doesn’t bother you at all, that there might be all these people out there wondering about their loved ones?” I tried to keep my voice casual. Nonchalant.

He chuckled. “Let me ask you something, Elias. When you walk through a field, you might inadvertently step on thirty ants. Hundreds, even. Not to mention all the other insects and microorganisms you could be unintentionally destroying. But do you ever think about that when you walk through a field?”

“No.”

“That’s what the majority of the world’s population is to us. We’re the ones with all the power. The money, the influence. We’re the deserving ones. Everyone else…” He flicked a hand in the air. “They’re the ants. It’s not that we don’t care about them. It’s that they don’t even cross our minds at all. You see what I’m saying?”

“Yes. I feel the same way,” I forced myself to say, feeling sicker than ever.

These guys were so fucked up. They genuinely believed that people of the ‘lower’ classes were disposable, existing only to serve them and their needs, no matter how sordid they were.

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