Page 23 of Treasure and Tarot

“Prove it.”

A delicate-looking hourglass that sat on Sebastian’s desk floated up and spun, and he picked it up, snatched out of the air.

“No breaking things.” That would make Sebastian unhappy.

“What? Son, are you well? Do you need a doctor?”

“Jesus.” Colton scoffed. “Are you about to have me declared incompetent now or something? And I will prove this isn’t my signature. I know a forensic document guy. In my line of work, I know one of everything. You should know that by now.”

“Now, Colton.”

“No. Don’t you try to guilt me.” He wasn’t going to make a loud, public stink. That would kill Sebastian, and he would never do that. But that lawyer was going down. Hard. He would sue the bastard and report him to the bar association. Make sure henever did anything fucking illegal for his billion-dollar parents again. “I don’t think I can ever forgive you for this.”

Knowing he had a child? Knowing Sebastian was waiting for him? That would have given him something to recover for. His gut was sour, his head ached, and his leg might just fall off.

And books were pelting him.

“Sebastian was… Sebastian was my person.”

Suddenly, the cookbooks fell to the ground with varying thuds, and everything went quiet for a moment.

“I’m sure we can find someone else to be your person. Omegas are a dime a dozen. You can have children.” His father’s voice was just so damn pompous. Like they were going to arrange his marriage like he was a hero in some romance novel about the Regency era.

They didn’t understand, they weren’t going to, and he, to be honest, had other things he could spend his time on, namely getting to know his child and convincing his person that he wasn’t a total jerk.

He didn’t bother answering; he just hung up the phone. And didn’t answer when it rang back right away. Then he looked around at the floor. “Well, you guys made a mess. I think you should clean it up.”

Colton noticed that, while the ghosts were perfectly happy to throw things around and make things messy, much like a child, they didn’t come and pick them back up and put them where they went.

“Assholes. You’re all assholes.” His cane clattered on the floor.

Iago came in, looked around. “Well, you’ve been busy. What were you doing, and did you take any readings?”

“I was on the phone.”

“That doesn’t surprise me. Mom and Dad?”

Colton tilted his head. “What?”

“Oh, come on. I saw that little girl. I saw that picture. She’s got your eyes. I saw how you reacted to Sebastian Belle. You were all over him like moss on a rock. That’s your daughter.”

“I didn’t know about her.” Iago’s eyes went wide, and he shook his head. “My parents tried to pay him off. They sent paperwork saying that I gave up my parental rights. I didn’t sign it.”

“If your parents paid him off, why is he living here with the ghosts?”

“He didn’t cash the check.”

“Oh, I like him!” Iago actually applauded.

“You just like anybody who fucks with my parents.”

“So, what if I do? Maybe it’s petty? It’s still pretty cool, and he’s done a good job raising that little girl. She was a sweetheart.”

“She is. She’s a doll baby.” And his. God. He rubbed his leg. “I have no idea what to do.”

That damn hourglass tried to float again, and he yanked it back down. “Not helping! Can’t you be ghosts who do automatic writing or some shit? Help me out in some real way? Oh, and whoever is being mean to my little girl? Cut it the fuck out.”

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