for your silence.”
Nina lets out a breath.
Rage builds in me, and I can tell Nina’s getting mad again having to recap it to me.
“I didn’t appreciate the offer as you can imagine, but I had to think carefully—I was in some stranger’s car. What if I said no? Would he drive off with me and have me killed and my body disposed of? Obviously you guys have a butt-ton of money; he could probably get away with anything, especially disappearing a woman like me—someone not many people would bother looking for.”
I’m rendered speechless by horror and rage. The thought of anything happening to Nina, and the thought of my dad having anything to do with it, plus the idea that she thinks I wouldn’t scorch the earth searching for her—everything’s fighting to get out of me at once.
“Needless to say, I started to feel a bit scared. Before I could say anything, he said, ‘If you don’t agree, I’m afraid I’ll have to disinherit Brent, and the three of you will have to figure things out on your own. I know you care for Brent—think about what it would be like to fall from where he is. I know you’re used to the life you live, but Brent isn’t cut out for it.’”
Now I know Dad probably just said that as part of his manipulation tactic, but my blood still boils.
I can’t read Nina’s expression as she watches me. It is stormy yet soft, and I wonder what else is going on in her head.
“Anyway,” she continues, “I said, ‘So you want to pay me to go away, never contacting Brent again,’ and he said, ‘Brent has better matches lined up for him, and he is set to choose one any day now. The scandal won’t be as disruptive for him, as there are still plenty of women willing to marry a wealthy man with a bastard child, but think of your daughter feeling on the outside looking in once they have kids of their own—proper legal Colton heirs. How do you think your child would feel if she knew you had a chance to make her life very, very comfortable and you refused? How do you think she’ll feel when only the children from his legal union are acknowledged publicly? Surely you don’t want her to grow up feeling like the proverbial red-headed stepchild?’
“‘But she already knows Brent’s her father,’ I said. ‘She’ll feel that way any way you slice it—whether we’re living it up in Bermuda or fighting it out where we are now.’ Either way, something wasn’t adding up about what he was saying. Why would he pay me to leave you alone if you were set to marry some high-class debutante or whatever anyway? The problem would take care of itself—it’s not like I’d go after a guy who’s taken. Then I figured, maybe he thought I’d run straight to the Enquirer with the story or something, but even that seemed silly; I doubt I have a billionaire’s love child! starring a nobody would sell many mags, and how on earth could it hurt your family name? The girls always look like the losers in those situations—like gold-digging skanks—and I wasn’t about to do that to myself. Then I realized it really was just about making sure no one knew she’s biologically connected to you, and the most obvious reason of all presented itself to me.”
She gives me a sort of furtive look that tugs at my heart.
“Maybe it’s a race thing, I figured. Maybe the old bastard doesn’t want anyone to know he has black family members now, and paying me off means he gets to erase us from his legacy—a small price to pay to keep things pure.”
I really don’t know how to respond to that—I can’t exactly tell her she’s wrong; in fact, the more I think about it, the more I realize she’s probably right. There’s a definite pattern to the women he encouraged me to date and the ones he frowned upon.
“Anyway, once a few days passed and I didn’t hear back from you, I started to think about his offer.”
My emotions take a sharp turn again.
“You can’t be serious—how could you even think about
Nina lets out a breath.
Rage builds in me, and I can tell Nina’s getting mad again having to recap it to me.
“I didn’t appreciate the offer as you can imagine, but I had to think carefully—I was in some stranger’s car. What if I said no? Would he drive off with me and have me killed and my body disposed of? Obviously you guys have a butt-ton of money; he could probably get away with anything, especially disappearing a woman like me—someone not many people would bother looking for.”
I’m rendered speechless by horror and rage. The thought of anything happening to Nina, and the thought of my dad having anything to do with it, plus the idea that she thinks I wouldn’t scorch the earth searching for her—everything’s fighting to get out of me at once.
“Needless to say, I started to feel a bit scared. Before I could say anything, he said, ‘If you don’t agree, I’m afraid I’ll have to disinherit Brent, and the three of you will have to figure things out on your own. I know you care for Brent—think about what it would be like to fall from where he is. I know you’re used to the life you live, but Brent isn’t cut out for it.’”
Now I know Dad probably just said that as part of his manipulation tactic, but my blood still boils.
I can’t read Nina’s expression as she watches me. It is stormy yet soft, and I wonder what else is going on in her head.
“Anyway,” she continues, “I said, ‘So you want to pay me to go away, never contacting Brent again,’ and he said, ‘Brent has better matches lined up for him, and he is set to choose one any day now. The scandal won’t be as disruptive for him, as there are still plenty of women willing to marry a wealthy man with a bastard child, but think of your daughter feeling on the outside looking in once they have kids of their own—proper legal Colton heirs. How do you think your child would feel if she knew you had a chance to make her life very, very comfortable and you refused? How do you think she’ll feel when only the children from his legal union are acknowledged publicly? Surely you don’t want her to grow up feeling like the proverbial red-headed stepchild?’
“‘But she already knows Brent’s her father,’ I said. ‘She’ll feel that way any way you slice it—whether we’re living it up in Bermuda or fighting it out where we are now.’ Either way, something wasn’t adding up about what he was saying. Why would he pay me to leave you alone if you were set to marry some high-class debutante or whatever anyway? The problem would take care of itself—it’s not like I’d go after a guy who’s taken. Then I figured, maybe he thought I’d run straight to the Enquirer with the story or something, but even that seemed silly; I doubt I have a billionaire’s love child! starring a nobody would sell many mags, and how on earth could it hurt your family name? The girls always look like the losers in those situations—like gold-digging skanks—and I wasn’t about to do that to myself. Then I realized it really was just about making sure no one knew she’s biologically connected to you, and the most obvious reason of all presented itself to me.”
She gives me a sort of furtive look that tugs at my heart.
“Maybe it’s a race thing, I figured. Maybe the old bastard doesn’t want anyone to know he has black family members now, and paying me off means he gets to erase us from his legacy—a small price to pay to keep things pure.”
I really don’t know how to respond to that—I can’t exactly tell her she’s wrong; in fact, the more I think about it, the more I realize she’s probably right. There’s a definite pattern to the women he encouraged me to date and the ones he frowned upon.
“Anyway, once a few days passed and I didn’t hear back from you, I started to think about his offer.”
My emotions take a sharp turn again.
“You can’t be serious—how could you even think about
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