Page 17 of Fate

He zooms out of the circular drive, off to deliver someone else’s bad news, I imagine. I shake my head and move through my house.

It’s huge. Not as big as the mansion estate I grew up in, but way too much for a single man. I’d hoped to one day move Kat in here, marry her, have a few kids. Growing up, I knew I wanted a big family. Had I not had my brothers, sister, and Chase, losing my mother would have been even more devastating. Because I had them, there was always something or someone to keep the tone in the house a little lighter. Push the darknessaway.

Once I reach the bar, I pour three fingers of scotch. I’m going to need it to get through whatever this reportsays.

Taking my time, I go out back and keep walking. Past my pool and the horse stables and directly out to my ocean-view patio. When I bought the land, I had a deck built near the back of the cliffs, the ocean still a safe distance away but with a perfect open view. I’d even piped out speakers, lighting, and built a gazebo so that I could enjoy the ocean no matter what the weather was like. Today the sun was bright and the temperature a perfect seventy degrees. If only my heart was as light.

Sipping my drink, I watch the waves crash against the shore and wonder what it would be like if Kathleen had never been in the fire. Too many times I’ve recounted ways I could have changed the outcome of that evening. She was supposed to have been with me, except her work ethic wouldn’t let her leave until the finishing touches were complete on the last piece she’d been workingon.

I should have pushed her to be with me. Told her I needed her. Fuck, I always needed her. She was everything to me. All women paled in comparison to her beauty, heart, and talent. I remember watching her work in her tiny apartment until late in the evening. Heck, sometimes I’d fuck her until we both passed out, and then I’d wake in the middle of the night to the sound of the sewing machine whirring. When I’d find her, she’d be working on something magnificent.

Since then, I’ve heard she’s been designing clothes, working in partnership with my sister, Chloe.

Now my sister is a sore motherfucking subject. She refuses, absolutely refuses to talk about Kat in any way. Even work-wise. Says it’s putting her in the middle and making her choose family over her work and her friendships, and she won’t do either. Truth be told, it’s put a huge wrench in our relationship. One I should fix, since I’m the one constantly pissed off ather.

I flip the envelope back and forth until I finally rip the seal and open it. I pull out the report. It’s several pages, most of it black boxes lined up along other black boxes. My name is on the left and Cora Duncan’s is on the right.

While I scan the documents, so many emotions rush through me, beating me to a pulp the same way the waves are battering the sand. It’s all a bunch of garbled scientific nonsense until I get to the lastpage.

A letter from my college buddy, Bradley Grover, who owns LabCorp Genetics, rounds out the packet explaining exactly what I need toknow.

Carson,

I’ve personally ensured that my top geneticist ran your swabs against Ms. Cora Duncan’s DNA three times. During the PCR analysis, or polymerase chain reaction process, we compared twenty-one genetic markers by multiplying twenty-three paternity indexes derived from twenty of the genetic loci wetest.

Based on the testing results included within, the probability of paternity is99.9%.

That means eighteen-month-old Cora Duncan is in fact your biological child.

Call me if you’d like to discuss. Carson, I imagine this is an intense time, but I’m here if you need a friend.

Brad

Bradley Grover

Chief Executive Officer

LabCorp Genetics

Fuck me. I’m someone’s father. I have a child. A daughter.

Cora Duncan.

Even her first name starts with a “C,” as is tradition in my family.

What the hell do I donow?

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