I shoved back from the conference room table and got to my feet. “What the fuck are you talking about, Martin? The woman in that photo was Elle’s sister, Isobel James, the woman Simon Parker murdered.”
Martin shook his head, the photo now held tightly in his hand as he continued to stare at it. “No, son. The young woman in this photo was Richard’s daughter, your sister.”
“You’re mistaken. You know that I don’t have a sister.” I went over to his side of the table, snatched the picture from his hand, and waved it in front of his face. “Look closer, goddamn it. What is the connection here between Ethan and Simon Parker?”
“Calm yourself, Will. It seems there might be two separate matters in front of us. Shall we wait for your brothers or get started?”
Martin was tall and lean. His quiet demeanor commanded respect, and he had a brilliant mind. And because he was a smart man, he knew that I could easily take his life. Still, my larger physical stature and aggressive behavior did not intimidate him, as it would an ordinary man.
At the perfect time, Thomas entered the room with John close on his heels. Thomas gave a slight nod, his eyes revealing apprehension. He and I were rather perceptive with regard to each other’s state of mind, and his visible concern indicated that he understood the type of situation he had walked in on.
“Brother,” he said, reminding me to check myself.
I reciprocated with a nod, then pictured Elle’s pretty smile. She was all that mattered. The muscles in my shoulders relaxed, and I gestured to Martin’s seat. “Yes, sir. We’re ready to listen.”
Thom, John, and I sat opposite our longtime family friend.
“First, let me offer my apologies. This news should have been passed on to you from your father,” Martin said, holding the photo. “I can’t speak to the notion that there was a direct link between Ethan and Simon Parker. But I will follow up on that potential business connection between the two of them that you mentioned before and let you know if the client was somehow linked to this same Parker family.
“Truth is,” he added, “I’m quite certain this young woman in the photo was your sister.”
“Our mother would never give up one of her children,” I said.
“Of course not, but your father would,” he countered. “The goddamn son of a bitch promised me this would never come back to hurt Mary. I warned him that placing his illegitimate daughter with Edward James would be problematic and hurtful in the end. ‘Two birds, one stone,’ he told me.”
Thomas reached for the photo and stared at it. “How can you be so sure? She doesn’t look anything like our father. My brothers and I have his distinct features.”
John had gone quiet.
Martin shrugged. “You’re men. She was a near-perfect image of her mother. I knew her mother—she was an agency asset. We lost her six months after she delivered the baby. Isobel.”
Panic beat through me, and I lost my breath for a minute. One word was trapped on my tongue. I would not say it out loud. I would not taint her name.
Lissie.
“Tell me Ethan didn’t know that he was fucking his own sister,” I said. “Tell me that my brother did not have a child with our half-sister.”
One could have heard a pin drop in the seconds that followed when Elle stepped into the conference room. She immediately stilled, her lips pressed in a tight line. I recognized the look on her face. It was a fusion of heartbreak and determination, one of the many expressions in which each of her emotions was a striking contrast to another.
Shit.
“No, Ethan did not have a child with your half-sister,” Elle finally said. She put out a hand to catch herself on the doorframe.
I was on my feet in an instant, gathering her into my arms. “Look at me, Elle. Good. That’s good.”
She followed my breathing pattern, willing her anxiety to ease.
“I’m fine. I promise. You can let go,” she said after settling herself.
“Are you sure? I can take you upstairs.”
“I’m totally sure.” She rested her palms against my chest. “She wasn’t my sister; we knew that already. I’m hurt by the deception because I loved her, but now, at least there can be some comfort in knowing that she was yours, that she wasn’t just some random stranger from who knows where.”
“But think what this means, Elle.” I blundered through the words, doing my best to soften the blow, “Consider the implication, the significance of this for Lissie.”
She shook her head. “We are her parents now. We’ll protect her.”
“She will hate us when she learns the truth.”
“No, Will. I don’t believe that. Lissie will never learn to hate. And the fact that Isobel is your sister will be of no consequence to her, not in the way you’re assuming it would be.” Then, she nailed me hard with those eyes.
My clever wife was holding one more card in her hand than I had.
“Explain,” I ordered.
Her gaze burned stronger into mine. “Isobel is not Lissie’s mother.”