Page 129 of Ruthless God

She barrels forward.

“We heard you arguing the other night. Didn’t take much to put two and two together. That dad had a mistress and a secret love child.”

Her mother’s lips press into a thin, hard line, saying nothing.

Bonnie finally speaks. “The only surprise is that she’s our age. We kind of hoped she was a baby at first, so we could be in her life from day one.”

I watch them, stunned. They knew about me. All this time, they knew. Maybe not my name. Maybe not where I was. But they knew I existed. Wanted to know me, even. Somehow, it makes me feel connected to them in a way I didn’t think was possible.

Blanc exhales sharply. “And you never thought to bring this up before, in private?”

Bonnie’s gaze turns sharp. “Like you would’ve told us the truth?”

Claudius makes an inaudible sound of amusement. Their mother, however, isn’t amused. Her glare snaps back to me.

“And what exactly do you want from us?”

Her tone is cool. Calculated. Like she thinks I’m here to steal something from them. Like I’m the threat in this situation. My pulse spikes, but I don’t hesitate.

I lift my chin. “I want nothing from you.”

And God help me, it’s the truth.

Her eyes narrow. “I find that hard to believe, Cecily.”

She says my name wrong. If it’s deliberate, I can’t be sure—but I don’t miss the condescension in her voice.

Before I can respond, Claudius steps in. His tone is like a blade. Sharp, smooth, and unforgiving.

“It’s Cecely. With an e, not an i.” A pause. A challenge. “Get it right or keep her name out of your mouth.”

My heart slams against my ribs. He didn’t just correct her. He defended me. In front of my father. In front of my sisters. In front of the woman who clearly wishes I didn’t exist.

The silence that follows is thick, tense.

Blanc’s wife’s lips part slightly, like she can’t believe someone just spoke to her that way. Blanc? He watches Claudius carefully, measuring. And my sisters? Alyssa smirks, clearly enjoying the show. Bonnie looks at me like she’s just realized something important. Like she’s wondering exactly what I am to Claudius.

The silence lingers, stretching between us, thick and charged. Blanc’s wife still looks like she’s swallowing glass, debating whether to lash out or let it slide.

I exhale slowly, my pulse still racing. Then, before I can talk myself out of it, I turn to him.

“Thank you.”

Two words. Quiet. Measured.

But they seem to catch him off guard. His head tilts slightly, his gaze flicking to mine, something undetectable flickering in his expression. For a moment, I think he’s going to brush it off. To make some cocky remark, pretend it didn’t mean anything.

But he holds my gaze. And then his hand tightens around mine. Not much. Just enough. Enough to tell me he heard me. That he understood. And that maybe, just maybe, I’m not as alone in this as I thought.

Blanc clears his throat, shattering the moment. His gaze snaps to Claudius, then to me.

“Enough of this. I didn’t come here for dramatics. I came here because my family was attacked, and I need answers.”

His voice is sharp, impatient. But I don’t look away from Claudius. Because that was the moment. The smallest shift. The kind that changes everything. And no one can take that away from me. Not even my father.

Claudius says, “I will show you to your rooms. Your other guest will arrive soon.”

The reaction is instant. A flicker of confusion, unease. Even Blanc looks surprised at the public announcement. But it’s his wife who speaks first, her perfectly curated mask cracking just slightly.

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