Are you sure?
Yes. Do it.
Short, succinct, and silent. The most efficient conversation we’d ever had.
“You should care more about Mr. Larsen’s public profile,” Bridget said, her mild tone giving no warning before she dropped the bombshell. “Considering he’s your son.”
Most explosions were deafening, rattling teeth and eardrums with the sheer force of the energy expelled. This one was silent but a hundred times deadlier, its shock waves slamming into Erhall before he ever saw it coming.
I could pinpoint the moment the impact hit. His face drained of color, and the smug self-satisfaction disappeared from his eyes as they bounced between me and Bridget. Back and forth, back and forth, like two ping pong balls stuck in a pendulum.
“That’s—he’s—that’s a lie,” Erhall sputtered. “I don’t have a son.”
“Michigan, summer of eighty-six,” I said. “Deidre Larsen.”
I didn’t think it was possible, but Erhall’s face paled further until it matched the color of his starched button-down.
“Judging by your reaction, you remember her.” I leaned forward, my face creasing with a grim smile when he scooted back an inch in response. A faint sheen of perspiration glistened on his forehead. “She’s dead, by the way. Turned to alcohol and drugs after a piece of shit lowlife abandoned her when she told him she was pregnant. Overdosed when I was eleven.”
I thought I caught a flash of regret in Erhall’s eyes before he covered it up.
“I’m sorry to hear that.” A muscle worked in his jaw, and he reached for his tie only to lower his hand before making contact. “But I’m afraid I don’t know a Deidre Larsen. You have me mistaken for someone else.”
My hands flexed into fists. Bridget slid a hand onto my knee, her touch cool and reassuring, and I expelled a long breath before I forced myself to relax.
I wasn’t here to beat down on Erhall, at least not physically. We had a more important goal to accomplish.
“That’s not what the DNA tests say.” I reached into my pocket and slapped the papers, courtesy of Andreas, on the desk with a thud that made Erhall jump. “Take a look if you don’t believe me.”
He didn’t touch them. We both knew what I said was true.
“What do you want?” Erhall recovered some of his composure. “Money? A title?” He raised an eyebrow. “Monthly bonding activities?”
Despite his mocking tone, he stared at me with a strange expression that almost…
No. The day I willingly engaged in any form of “bonding” activity with him was the day icicles formed in hell.
“Her Highness already told you.” I tilted my head in Bridget’s direction. Shes sat calmly next to me, her expression neutral, almost bored, as she watched our conversation. “We want you to open the motion to repeal the Royal Marriages Law.”
“And if I don’t?”
“You might find the news about your long-lost love child splashed across the front page of the next Daily Tea,” Bridget said. “Hypothetically speaking, of course. Journalists can get their hands on the darnedest things.” She shook her head. “It’s too bad they won’t wait until after the elections. You have quite a strong opponent this year. Just a hint of a scandal could tip things in his favor. But what do I know?” Her smile returned. “I’m just a ‘pretty face.’”
Erhall’s face changed from chalk white to bright purple in zero-point-two seconds. It would’ve been alarming had it not been so satisfying. “Are you blackmailing me?”
“No,” Bridget said. “I’m encouraging you to do the right thing. Because you will do the right thing, won’t you, Mr. Speaker?”
I could tell he was struggling to hold back some choice epithets as the wheels spun in his head.
If he refused, he risked losing his political career over the scandal an illegitimate child would cause. He represented one of the most traditional counties in the country, and his voters would not respond well to the news he had a child with an American waitress out of wedlock.
If he caved, he would lose the power play, because that’s what this was. It wouldn’t take much for Erhall to bring the motion to the floor, but doing so meant Bridget gained the upper hand. Politics was a game and losing a match—especially to someone Erhall deemed inferior for no other reason than her gender—had to sting.
The grandfather clock ticked in the corner, the passing of seconds deafening in the silence.
Finally, Erhall’s shoulders slumped, and a thrill of victory darted through me. “Even if I bring the motion to the floor, Parliament will never pass it,” he said spitefully. “Public opinion only takes you so far.”
Bridget’s smile didn’t waver. “Let me worry about the rest of Parliament. You do your part, and the world never has to know about your indiscretion. You might even sit in the Prime Minister’s seat one day. But remember, Mr. Speaker, I’m going to be queen. And I will still be queen long after your political career is over and you’re hawking your memoir about your glory days on morning talk shows. So, it’s in your best interest to work with me and not make things difficult. Don’t you agree?”
Erhall was an asshole, but he wasn’t an idiot. “Fine. I’ll open the motion at the next session of Parliament,” he said, tone sullen.
“Excellent.” Bridget rose from her seat. “I do love a productive meeting. Mr. Larsen, is there anything else you’d like to add?”
I stared at Erhall. While certain things he said and did pissed me off, my overall feelings toward my father had shifted from loathing to indifference.
Whatever hold he had over me, it was gone.
“I spent my life building you up in my mind,” I said. “You were the decision that changed two lives irrevocably, the monster who changed my mother into the monster she became. I could’ve found out your identity a long time ago, but I chose not to. I told myself it was because I didn’t trust myself enough not to kill you for what you did”—Erhall flinched and scooted back another inch—“but the truth is, I was scared of facing the ghost that had haunted me my entire life, even when I was convinced ghosts weren’t real. What was he like, the man that was technically one half of me? How would he react when he found out I was his son?”
The muscle in Erhall’s jaw jumped again.