Page 46 of Captive Bride

“We need to clean the nursery.”

“I’ll clean the nursery. You can drink water while we talk.”

I nodded weakly, too exhausted to argue further. Kieran wheeled me back into the house, the familiar surroundings a stark contrast to the violence we'd just endured. The scent of lasagna still lingered in the air, a cruel reminder of the peaceful afternoon that now felt like a distant memory.

"Water," Kieran said, pressing a cool glass into my trembling hands. "Drink."

I sipped slowly, the liquid soothing my parched throat. As the fog in my mind began to clear, the weight of our situation settled heavily on my shoulders.

"Talk," I demanded, my voice hoarse. "What the hell is going on, Kieran?"

Kieran sighed. He poured himself a glass of water, then drank it almost immediately. Then he poured himself another one. I watched him as he leaned against the kitchen counter, his fingers tapping restlessly on the glass. "It's complicated," he began, his voice low.

"Uncomplicate it," I growled, my patience wearing thin.

“Do you remember when my mum died? Before Catherine convinced Malachy to take me in?”

“Yeah, of course I remember.” I wasn’t sure what this had to do with our current predicament, but Kieran literally never talked about this, so I knew it had to be important. “I was so angry he wouldn’t just take you in right away. I think it was the first time I ever stood up to him.”

Kieran smiled. “Aye, lad, I know,” he said. “And I’ll always be grateful for that.”

I nodded. Waited.

“Well, so you know I went to live with my auntie.”

“Yeah. In Dublin. I remember.”

“And you know I spent every winter with her…”

“Kieran, I lived with you until like, two years ago. Yes, I know you spent half your year in Ireland most of the time. Where is this going?”

“So Bellamy found her,” he said. “When I was growing up. He said he wanted to meet his nephew face-to-face.”

“Wait. What?”

“It was…nice. You know Malachy wasn’t a great role model.”

I tried to process this. It was hard to wrap my head around.

I stared at Kieran, trying to make sense of his words. "So you've been in contact with Bellamy all this time? Our uncle Bellamy? The one who tried to kill Dad? The one who might be my biological Dad?”

Kieran nodded, his expression guarded. "Not the whole time, but...yeah. For years now.

I glared at him, my blood suddenly turning cold. “Why didn’t you tell me? Did he, like, touch you?”

“No! He’s not a priest. No, that was almost exclusively Father Mulcahy.”

I laughed despite myself. “Okay, good to know. But seriously, if there isn’t some reason to keep this to yourself…why not just tell me?”

“Well, at first, I didn’t think it was necessary. But when Dad died, I realized that it wasn’t that Bellamy wasn’t interested in the business—it was that he never thought he could defeat Dad.”

“He could never defeat Dad.”

“Yeah, I know that. He knows that.”

Kieran took a deep breath before continuing. "But with Dad gone, Bellamy saw an opportunity. He started reaching out more, asking questions about you and the family business."

My stomach churned. "And you told him?"

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