Page 165 of Dark Little Game
“Holy fuck,” I mutter.
Rayne’s arm lands around my shoulders, and he pulls me in close on the sofa.
But I still feel like I’m in free-fall.
“The other woman became pregnant, too. Your father was… prolific.”
“We have a brother,” Weston says, still in disbelief.
“He’s nearly the same age as you, just a bit younger.”
“Is he a freshman in college?”
“He is not attending college currently. He’s been a bit troubled, in his teenage years.”
My throat goes a little tight.
Troubled.
Another son of Barrett Knox, troubled, just like me.
If this guy is my half-brother, half of myblood, how similar is he to me? To us?
Wes is running his hands through his hair. “So what happens now?”
“Now that your father has passed, the non-disclosure contracts have been terminated, and all three of you will be receiving inheritances. And you are now legally permitted to know about your brother. I will send over his information after this call.”
“Good,” Weston says.
“It’s my professional opinion to urge you to tread lightly,” the lawyer says. “Your brother has known that both of you exist, but he’s never been allowed to contact you. It may be a sensitive issue for all involved.”
“We’ll be nothing but understanding,” Wes assures her.
After the call ends, she emails us a short document.
All about our fuckingbrother.
His name is Niko Berlant. He always had his mother’s last name instead of our father’s.
He went to a great private prep school for high school, but despite the fact that he should be a freshman in college now, he isn’t attending.
Our father had been paying him and his mother large sums of money for his whole life, to keep his secret son from contacting any of us.
There’s a photo of him, too.
And he looks like us… but different.
Oneparticulardifference is that he must have gotten his mother’s hair, which is dark brown, almost black.
But his eyes are blue, just like ours. And other than the hair color, we really do look like family.
“He deserves to come to Crimson,” Wes finally says after we’ve pored over the small amount of information we have about him. “He’s been forced into silence his whole life. We need to include him, and extend an olive branch.”
“What if he doesn’t want to come to Crimson?”
Wes puffs out a breath. “Everyone wants to come to Crimson.”
Usually I’d want to punch Wes for saying something pompous like that, but after recent events, I almost find it charming.
