Alexander

Sitting in the office with my feet kicked up on the windowsill, I watch the fog engulf the grounds as if the hounds of hell requested the coverage. My body is relaxed after reconnecting with Sara Jane and getting a few hours of sleep.

Since my mind is not at ease, I give my head a break after dealing with some emails, and open the blinds to watch the break of day. It’s too overcast for sunshine, but the sky lightens from deep blue to pale gray to gloom.

A soft rap on the door causes me to glance at the time. 6:47 a.m. “Come in.”

“I brought you some coffee and scrambled eggs.” The smile is heard in her voice before I even see Neely’s face.

“Bacon?” I ask, spinning around in my chair.

“Crispy, how you like it.”

I smile. “Thanks, Neely.”

“You’re welcome.”

Picking up the fork she sets down, I didn’t realize I was hungry until the smell of breakfast hit my stomach. I dig in, but stop with a mouthful of eggs and look up. Neely is still standing there as if waiting for something, so I swallow, and ask, “Yeah?”

“May I ask you a personal question?”

“You’ve known me for years, so we’re beyond formality here.”

She sits in the deep red leather chair in front of me and leans forward. In a lowered voice, she asks, “I wasn’t sure if I’m supposed to make long-term arrangements for Ms. Dorset. I didn’t want to upset her and ask.”

I sit back, steepling my fingers. “What do you think of Ms. Dorset?”

Surprise filters across her face. “Oh, um.”

“The truth. Please.”

“I think she’s an acquired taste.”

“One you haven’t acquired, I take it?”

“No.” Although it doesn’t surprise me to hear this, it bothers me. She quickly adds, “I’m sorry. I’ve been too forward.”

“No, you haven’t. I asked for honesty.” And Neely should feel she can be honest. “She’s had a rough life. She’s not used to trusting people. The drugs made her paranoid. I think it will take her time to adjust to the manor.”

“I’ll try to make the transition smoother.”

She stands, but I ask, “How do you feel about Ms. Gra—Mrs. Kingwood?”

Returning to the seat, she replies with a sincere smile. “Sara Jane is lovely and reminds me so much of your mother, Madeline.”

I hate that she clarifies when she speaks of my mother. I understand why, but it’s still unsettling. I rest my elbows on either side of the plate. “She would have liked her. I know it.”

“She would have adored her.”

“I’m glad she’s back.”

“A love that strong can’t stay away for long.” Standing, she taps the desk. “Eat before it gets cold, and if you need anything let me know.”

“Actually, I could use your help now. Do you know where my father kept my birth certificate?”

“He has a safe under the file bureau behind you. I would check there.”

“Really? I had no idea.” I spy the cut in the wood. Looking back at her, I ask, “You don’t happen to know the combination do you?”

She laughs as she’s walking out. “If only.”

When the door closes, I get down on my hands and knees, something my father would never do if it weren’t of upmost importance. He was hiding whatever’s in there for a reason. Or maybe protecting it is more apropos.

I lift the plank of wood that’s hidden in the shadows of the bureau above and see a safe. A silver keypad is visible, but I have no idea what that passcode is. Sitting back, I look around the room for clues. Kingwood? That seems too long and obvious.

Scanning the room, my eyes land on the silver framed photo of my mother when the light from outside shines on it. Madeline. I duck down again and type in her name, but nothing happens.

Think.

Think.

Think.

Madeline.

Their anniversary.

Nothing.

Damn it.

Then an idea strikes.

Her birthday.

I type in the six digits, the lock releases, and the lid pops up just enough for me to open it, leaving me grinning from ear to ear. Reaching in, I pull out an envelope, revealing stacks of money—ten-thousand-dollar bundles. I count them. There are ten. The money doesn’t interest me. The envelope does. I dump the contents on top of the desk. My mother’s wedding ring bounces across the top. I recognize it instantly. She loved that ring. She loved my father, even if he did break her heart. She was too strong to stay with him if she didn’t love him. She wasn’t buried with her ring? Bastard. He took it from her. Fucker.

Holding the ring between my fingers, the diamond catches the light. It’s not a huge diamond considering what they could afford even when they got engaged. Both came from old money. Madeline never needed all the attention she got. She would have been content being less pretty, less refined, less of everything as long as she was happy.

I made her happy, and she made me happy. I was a teenage fuck-up who lived life to the fullest. I didn’t have worries because my mother was present enough for both my parents. Sadness creeps into my chest. I took her for granted, foolish enough to think she’d be around forever.

They say the good die young. She proved them right.

As for Sara Jane, I’ll do everything in my power to prove them wrong.

I set the ring aside and pull the papers from the envelope. My father’s passport. My mother’s. Two bonds and—Bingo. My birth certificate. After what Chad had found, it’s been bugging me. I wanted to see the proof, and if I can get a mock wedding certificate, I’ve no doubt that anything I find online would be altered if the initial information were correct. God, looking at my mother’s ring, I should be getting something for Sara Jane. Does she hate that I haven’t yet?

I still don’t believe the birth certificate is real until I unfold the aged paper and see it with my own eyes.

Mother: April Louise Dorset

Father: Alexander Kingwood II

The paper floats down to the floor as I sit stunned to the spot.

Alexander Kingwood II.

Not Alexander Kingwood III.

Holy shit. Chad was right. It wasn’t a mistake. My grandfather is my real father. April and my grandfather are my parents.

Why was I raised by my fath—Alexander Kingwood III? When I thought my family couldn’t be more fucked up they go and prove me wrong.

My father was really my brother.

Half.

Why would he ever agree to raise his brother as his son? Fuck, and now a whole new mystery presents itself. The only problem is both my predecessors are dead, so I can’t ask them.

There is one person I can ask, and I intend to today.

I shove the stuff back in the envelope and stuff it back in the safe. With my foot, I push the wood over it and wrap up the emails and work I have left to do. The questions I have float through my head, and I find myself checking the time every few minutes. I don’t last an hour before I push off the chair in my quest for answers and head to the living room. I stop as soon as I round the corner.

A man dressed in khaki pants, a blue and white striped shirt, and bright pink tie is touching an antique clock on the mantle. What the hell? “Who are you?”

The guy—late twenties at best, cheap shoes, wavy brown hair that looks in need of a trim—laughs. “Kingwood?”

“Why are you in my house?”

April comes from the kitchen with two glasses of champagne with what looks like a drop of orange juice Not so sure she should be drinking that, especially before nine in the morning, but I’m more concerned with who the fuck this clown is. She says, “This is my nephew.”

With a smile, he walks toward me with his hand out. “Garvey Penner. It’s nice to meet you, cuz. I always admired your dad. He was a true titan of industry. Sorry for your loss.”

Cousin? What the—? “I’m not.”

He laughs. I don’t. But carrying on like we’re buddies, he says, “I bet not since you got quite the inheritance out of the deal.”

“How are we cousins?”

April hands him a glass, and says, “As I said, he’s my nephew. My sister’s son.”

“So you’re visiting?”

He adjusts his belt and sips the champagne. “Just visiting my aunt and wanted to the meet the family since we are now.”

At this hour?

His nose has a large bump and then hooks down. His eyes have no distinction between the brown and the dilated pupils. Even his ears are a little too large for his head. There’s no way he can be related to me. Nothing about him fits our family’s genetic mold. Dismissing his ridiculousness, I turn to April. “I need to speak with you.”

She smiles and sits on the couch. With her arm draped over the back, she looks quite comfortable—too comfortable. Her little show for this guy is annoying. “We can talk here,” she replies.

My patience is gone. “We’ll speak later.”

Garvey says, “Good to finally meet you. I look forward to seeing more of you.”

I don’t have him figured out, and I’m not sure I want to spend my time doing so. I’ll let him have his fun, but that fun doesn’t need to be at my expense. “Yeah . . . meet you,” I mumble, and head upstairs to talk to Sara Jane.

Taking the stairs by two I’ve just crossed the landing when I hear Garvey say, “He’s moody, like you said.”

Fucker.

When I reach my quarters, I open the door slowly. My sleeping beauty is still in bed. I smile and then sit on the bed slowly so I don’t disturb her. I’m not sneaky enough.

Her eyes open and she gently stretches. “What are you doing up already?”

“I couldn’t sleep. I got some work in.”

“Now I feel lazy.”

“No,” I say, stroking her hair. “You heal when you sleep, so you, my sweet Firefly, need to get all the rest you can.”

“I might lie in bed all day and watch movies or read.”

“Sounds like exactly what you should do. I’ll have Neely bring you some breakfast.”

I start to get up, but she grabs my wrist. “Hey, where are you going?”

Sitting back down, I reply, “I won’t be gone long. I need to run by the penthouse and run a few errands.”

“Alexander Kingwood running errands.” She pokes me in the side. “I might need to see this.”

Chuckling, I slide down to kiss her on the temple. “Ha. Ha. Don’t worry. I won’t be gone long.”

“An hour?” She waggles her eyebrows. I love seeing that smile.

“Two or three.”

“Fine, but I really wanted you to stay in bed with me today.”

“I won’t be long.” After one more kiss to her head I get up. “I promise.”

I grab my wallet and my phone from the nightstand and shove them in my pockets. When I reach the door, she says, “I love you, Alexander.”

“I love you, baby.”

Making sure to skip out before I get caught up talking to my “cuz” and April again, I’m swift in my exit. I head to the garage and hop on my bike. I text Neely to check on Sara Jane and then take off. I’m off estate property in two minutes. That might be a record I’m proud of.

I stop at a red light on the outskirts of downtown and think over the confusing morning. My mind keeps thinking back to the ring. Another mystery. Although, it does make me consider going to the jewelry store on Center Boulevard, and looking for a wedding ring for Sara Jane. I think she’d like a little surprising today.

The streets are fairly empty in this area but as soon as I make the turn, I’ll be stuck in that morning commuter traffic. A black car, late model seventies by the design, stops next to me. I look over and the driver’s window rolls down. A guy with dark sunglasses and balding temples leans on the door and says, “Alexander Kingwood, right?”

It happens too fast to escape.

A van skids up on the other side of me, the door slides open, and two guys jump out. I have a gun to my head in seconds, and I’m pushed roughly into the back of the van. Before the door is shut, I feel the hit to the side of my head and the world goes black.