The Redemption (Filthy Rich Americans 4)

“No, it’s not fair,” she agreed. “My dad didn’t keep his feelings about me hidden either. I was a constant disappointment.”

How was that possible? She went to an Ivy League school. She was the homecoming queen and prom queen. Everyone loved her, including countless strangers on Instagram. Also, “You went to the Olympics.”

She gave a joyless laugh. “Did I bring home a medal?”

I digested her statement, and it forced me to reflect on my actions. I’d pushed Royce and Vance relentlessly. Nothing was ever good enough to satisfy me. So, it applied to me as much as it did to Stephen and Colette Alby. “I was unaware your parents are fools. They have to be, if they’re not proud of you.”

Her shoulders snapped back in surprise, and her pretty face softened.

“Thank you.” She held my gaze for a long moment before it went unfocused and shifted away. “Things weren’t that bad until I was fourteen, when my mom got sick and almost died.”

“Cancer.” I remembered because, after her recovery, Colette became heavily involved with foundations and drives for research funding.

“Yeah. It started as pneumonia, but then she went into sepsis.” Her gaze drifted down, landing on her knees. “It looked like it was the end, and she didn’t want to take the secret to her grave.” Her face was sarcastic, yet grim. “A true deathbed confession.”

Cold realization leached from my bones. Puzzles intrigued me, and she’d given me more than enough pieces to solve it. “She had an affair with Damon.”

Her eyes turned dull and glassy. “If one time counts as an affair, then, yeah. But one time was all it took.”

Sophia wasn’t Stephen Alby’s daughter; she was Damon Lynch’s.

Jesus, how had I not seen it? His million-dollar smile was the exact same as hers.

A thousand questions vied for attention in my mind, but I was smart enough to know when to stay quiet. Silence often prompted the other person to fill it, and now wasn’t the time to push.

“My dad—Stephen,” she clarified, “can’t have children.” Her voice filled with contempt. “Me not being able to carry the Alby name was hard enough. Imagine how thrilled he was to learn I didn’t have Alby blood in my veins.”

“And he didn’t know?”

“Maybe he suspected on some level, but he couldn’t accept it. He was just as shocked as I was that she’d been lying to us for the last fourteen years.”

I sat forward, ignoring my posture, and rested my elbows on my knees, wanting to be closer. It was irrational, this desire to somehow protect her from such an awful betrayal that was twelve years in the past. “But he stayed with her.”

“I’m sure he wanted to leave, but he didn’t have a choice. What kind of man leaves a wife in her final days with cancer? And if he walked out and she did die . . . Fuck, I’d have no one.” She unscrewed the water bottle and took a long drink then set it down on the table like she didn’t know what to do with it anymore. “He loves her too. That’s why he stayed when she got better. My dad may not want me, but he still wants her, even after she massively fucked up.”

Her offhanded comment made me uncomfortable, like my suit was suddenly constricting. How could anyone not want her, when I couldn’t stop myself from wanting her?

“After that,” she said, “I decided I’d never be in the dark again. I’d learn every secret I could.”

I respected that and directed my ire at a new target. “What about Damon? Does he know?”

She tilted her head up to the ceiling. Like an imbecile, I also glanced up, not sure what she was looking at, only to dimly realize she’d done it to blink back tears. My body went on alert. I never felt more powerless than when witnessing a woman cry.

“Yeah.” She sniffled, composed herself, and used her anger to burn away her tears. “He fucking knows.”

There was no scenario I could see that made this acceptable, and I sensed there wasn’t one either.

“My dad scheduled a meeting with him. I think Damon thought it was going to be a sales pitch from my dad’s firm. Instead, I ambushed him with, ‘Surprise! I’m your daughter.’” Her smile was pained and didn’t reach her eyes. “He told me I was fourteen years too late. I was Stephen’s daughter now, not his.”

I inhaled a sharp breath, stunned at the cruelty, then anger bubbled to the surface. “He can say whatever he wants, but he cannot argue with biology.”

Sophia nodded, but it was only to appease me. “I was such an idiot. I thought maybe if I just got him to see me, he’d come around. You want to guess how I got into shooting skeet?”

There was a brick in my stomach, sinking me down. “I don’t need to guess,” I said quietly. “I know Damon’s an excellent shot. He’s nearly as good as I am.”