“Dad had just changed the operating agreement.”
Marcus stared.
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“He gave you controlling voting rights.”
“Because I ran the company.”
“I know that now.”
“You knew it then.”
“I was thirty.”
“You were twenty-nine.”
“Old enough.”
“Yes.”
Daniel looked toward the floor.
“I felt like Dad chose you.”
“Claire felt like you chose everything except her.”
“We drank.”
“We complained.”
“We became two stupid people congratulating each other for being wounded.”
Marcus listened in disgust.
Daniel continued:
“And then we crossed a line.”
“Once?”
“Yes.”
“Back then.”
Daniel understood.
His face tightened.
“You know about recently.”
Marcus laughed.
“My seven-year-old explained it.”
Daniel closed his eyes.
“God.”
“Don’t.”
Marcus pointed toward him.
“Do not stand in my house asking God to rescue you from consequences.”
Daniel nodded.
“Fair.”
“Three times?”
Daniel looked at him.
“Claire told you.”
“Answer.”
“Yes.”
Marcus stared at his brother.
“What did you think was happening?”
Daniel’s voice dropped.
“I don’t know.”
“People keep saying that today.”
“I know.”
“Try harder.”
Daniel looked toward the stairs.
“I found out Ethan was mine.”
“No.”
“You found out Ethan shared your DNA.”
Daniel met his eyes.
“He is my son.”
Marcus took one step closer.
Daniel did not move.
Marcus’s voice became quieter.
“That is a dangerous sentence to say to me right now.”
“It’s true.”
“What does it mean?”
Daniel swallowed.
“It means I’m his biological father.”
“Good.”
Marcus nodded.
“That is the last time tonight you use biology as if it answers the whole question.”
Daniel looked frustrated now.
“I missed seven years.”
“You volunteered to miss seven years by sleeping with my fiancée and walking away.”
“I didn’t know.”
“You knew for eight months.”
Daniel’s voice rose.
“And for eight months every instinct in me has been screaming that my son is across town calling somebody else Dad.”
Marcus stared.
“Somebody else.”
Daniel immediately regretted it.
“Marcus.”
“Say it again.”
“I didn’t mean—”
“I have raised him for seven years.”
“I know.”
“You attended his first birthday.”
“I know.”
“You watched me carry him around because he had an ear infection.”
“I know.”
“You called me when I panicked because he didn’t start talking as early as the pediatrician expected.”
“I know.”
“You bought him a bicycle last Christmas.”
Daniel’s eyes filled.
“I know.”
“And now I’m somebody else?”
“No.”
Daniel’s voice broke.
“No.”
Marcus turned away.
He needed distance.
The living room seemed too small.
Daniel whispered:
“I’m sorry.”
Marcus did not answer.
Then Daniel said:
“Claire isn’t the secret.”
Marcus turned.
Daniel’s face had changed.
Fear.
Not of Marcus.
Of what he was about to say.
“Ethan is.”
Marcus stared.
“What does that mean?”
Daniel reached into his coat.
Marcus tensed.
Daniel removed an envelope.
He placed it on the coffee table.
“I came tonight because I couldn’t keep doing this.”
Marcus looked at it.
“What?”
“I told Claire I was telling you after his birthday.”
“She told me to wait.”
“I said no.”