Page 101 of Blind Prophet

“Has he been sleeping long?”

“No,” Geoffrey answers.

“My two sons,” Dad says, bringing my attention back to him.

“What?”

These days, Dad rambles about the strangest things.

“I’m glad you’re both here. With me. My sons.”

Geoffrey sits sideways on the chaise across from me, hands together in a prayer pose, elbows on his thighs.

“Do you know what medication they gave him? Has he been rambling…”

Geoffrey’s professional pose remains, his expression reminiscent of when I reviewed Dad’s financial reports. Impatient and condescending.

To Geoffrey, Dad isn’t rambling. If anything, he’s annoyed I’m slow on the uptake.

“Dad, is Geoffrey your son?”

“Bastard child,” Dad says, lifting a shaky hand for more of the water I’m holding.

Slowly, I turn to Geoffrey. He’s at least twenty years older than me.

“He had you when he was fifty-two,” Geoffrey says. “Did you really think you were his only child?”

Well, yes, because that’s what he told me.

“You’re my brother?” He straightens his tie. “And you said nothing?”

“Half-brother,” he answers. “Your knowing wouldn’t have changed anything.”

Maybe it would have. I insisted he not join Bedrock and stay focused on Dad’s portfolios. I’d seen him as an important staff member for Dad.

“Why did Dad keep it a secret?”

Dad opens his mouth and closes it, eyes glazed. Is he following the conversation?

“Halston didn’t want people to know he sired a child with a prostitute.”

I study Geoffrey. I’ve disregarded the suit-wearing kiss-up for so long, but I mean, he’s so much older than me. We were never friends.

“Wow.” This news takes the bite out of Caroline’s accusations. The anger I felt coming over here has been completely replaced by…I’m not sure…confusion? Bewilderment? “Well, I’d say welcome to the family, but you’ve been with us all along.”

I can’t remember him not being there. And always in a suit.

“I wouldn’t say that.”

“You’re closer to Dad than I am.” It’s an honest assessment. He’s the guy Dad calls for everything. I manage the staff and ensure others are in place to handle his calls and requests.

“You’re taking this news better than I thought you would,” he says, studying me with the same analytical gaze I’ve seen across negotiating tables. I maintain the composed demeanor that’s served me well in hostile takeovers and congressional hearings; there will be time to process the emotional implications later.

“Why didn’t you ever tell me? Why keep it a secret all these years?”

“I signed an NDA. It was a condition for him covering my college tuition. My mother signed one before that.”

Holy shit.