Page 23 of Destiny

I love my father. And my mother. Truly I do. But this reliance on the family name is something I’ve never understood, and it’s a big part of why I chose to open my business on my own, without my family’s help.

Sure, I have my trust fund. I’ve considered signing it over to some charity that I love, but I haven’t because quite frankly, it’s mine. I’m still a Steel, and I know I may need that money someday. It’s my birthright.

Or is it?

My father is illegitimate.

Not on his birth certificate, of course, which I’ve seen. His birth certificate lists Daphne Steel as his mother.

Daphne Steel isnothis mother. Not biologically. Not genetically. This woman—this frail old woman—is his mother.

My grandmother.

I do what I have to do. I made peace with that a long time ago.

Interesting words from my father.

Brendan hasn’t said anything for a while, so I turn to him.

He simply takes my hand and squeezes it.

“Why?” I ask my father. “Why did you bring her here?”

“She’s my mother,” he says.

“But you don’t think of her that way. You never have. And all this time you thought she was dead. You have no love for the woman. So why bring her here?”

“Ava, you already know the answer to that question.”

I nod. I do. “To protect us.”

“No.Notto protect us. You and I aren’t in any danger.”

“To protect your brothers and sister. Your nieces and nephews.”

“Bingo,” Dad says. “This woman tried to destroy my brother once, and now that I know she’s alive, I’m pretty sure I know who was behind his shooting and attempted poisoning. I’m also pretty sure I know who was behind setting up the human trafficking on our land.”

“But what about Doc and Brittany?”

“They had a hand in it for sure. But Doc is not an inherently evil person. He was angry at Joe and Bryce for not giving him the veterinary contract for our ranch. Brittany is another story. She has some issues.”

“What issues?”

“She’s responsible for her mother’s death,” Mom says.

My skin goes cold.

“She was just a child,” Mom continues, “and according to Melanie, she was probably suffering from some kind of personality disorder that went undiagnosed. But still, she was a child.”

I clamp my palm to my forehead. “What is it with this town? How do we attract all these freaks?”

“I don’t know all the answers,” Dad says, “but this woman lying here knows a lot of them, and by God, I’m going to get them out of her.”

Chapter Seven

Brendan

When I was a kid—probably around seven or eight years old—my father took me on a camping trip. Neither one of us were that outdoorsy, but he said it was a rite of passage. That every father should take his son camping at least once.

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