“Fuck. It’s uncanny—the resemblance. Marianne was right.”

“Marianne?” I sucked in a breath. Jesus, I was feeling sick.

“Your mother. My lover. We were having an affair.” He held up two fingers to the barman. Fuck, I needed the whole bottle, not just a shot.

“Who was Marianne not fucking? The whore sure got around.” His eyes narrowed at my words, a smirk on his face, as if he didn’t like what I was saying. I didn’t care—it was the truth, and nobody knew it better than I did. I stared at him for a long minute. He looked so familiar, but not only because he looked like me. I’d seen his face and heard his name before. All those music magazines I’d read when I was a teenager—his picture and name were all over them. Why had I never picked up on that before?

I took a sip of my beer. “So. You knew Marianne. That doesn’t prove a fucking thing.”

He ran a hand through his hair, the exact same dark color and thick texture as mine, although his was short and graying on the sides.

“Ryder, I know it’s a hell of a shock—”

I narrowed my eyes. “Are you the William Ryder I think you are?” My hands were clammy, and my heart beat erratically in my chest.

“Which William Ryder would that be?” He raised an eyebrow, sneering. This son of a bitch was as cynical as I was.

“The fucking head honcho of Ryder Music. That one.”

He nodded. My eyes burned into his. There were so many questions, I didn’t know where to start.

I’d always suspected that Marianne had named me after the music mogul—she was a groupie, after all. But I had no idea she actually knew him, let alone had fucked him.

The barman sauntered over with the bottle to refill our glasses. I took the bottle of Jack from his hands and took a huge swig of the amber liquid. I needed to stop the churning of my stomach.

“Rich dude here will pay for it,” I said, nodding my head towards Will. He nodded, his gaze not leaving my face. The barman shrugged and walked off.

“Start talking, William,” I growled. “And explain why the fuck you are only showing up now. Why I never knew all this shit before today. And where the fuck is Marianne?” I slammed my fist on the table. I felt like throwing a few of these cheap wooden chairs around, smashing them to pieces. Then punch something. Anything. Including Bill’s face.

He held up a hand. “Calm down, Ryder. I’ll tell you everything I know. We can take it from there.” He let out a long, slow breath.

“I’m listening.”

“Put the bottle down. I need you to understand what I’m going to tell you.” His voice was deadly calm, yet he looked as if he’d aged ten years in the ten minutes I’d known him.

Bill got a faraway look in his eyes. I could tell he was digging up the past. Fuck. I’d been trying for nearly twenty years to forget that past and here it was, sitting across the table from me, dragging up all those feelings again. I’d thought I had a handle on it, and that I’d buried it so deep inside that it would never surface again. I was wrong. All it took was the mention of Marianne’s name for me to feel like the helpless boy again, deserted by his own fucking mother.

“I met your mother—”

My fist hit the table again, harder this time. Bill jumped. His eyes widened.

“Don’t call her that. Marianne deserted me and Max when we were kids . . . to fend for ourselves. She’s a whore, not my mother,” I hissed. “Anyway, where is the fucking bitch?”

Bill closed his eyes for a minute. His jaw slackened, and he swallowed hard. Fuck.

When he opened his eyes, they glittered brightly. “Marianne died, two months ago. I’ve been looking for you ever since.”

“She’s dead?” Fucking Christ, this was getting worse by the minute. I’d fantasized about seeing Marianne again. About telling her to her face what a shit mother she was. It was my hatred that fueled me, kept me alive through all the things that had happened to me, because one day I was going to find the whore, and give it to her straight. Now she was gone. Fuck.

I grabbed the bottle and took a swig, even though Bill clearly didn't approve. Well, kiss my ass, motherfucker. All this time I’d believed that scumbag Tiny was my father—that I’d killed my own flesh and blood. That kind of guilt weighed heavily on a kid; it was virtually insurmountable. Even the fact that I did it in self-defense and to save Max’s life didn't make it any lighter a burden to carry.

And now William Ryder was telling me he was my father?

My head hurt, and my chest tightened.

“Yes. I’ve been looking for her for years. She was supposed to show up at my office with Randy to sign a new contract. I waited all day. They never came.”

My eyes widened. “What do you mean?”

“Marianne had called me, and asked for a favor. She said that Jake had throat cancer, and wasn’t going on tour any longer. She’d finally had enough of Karma Electric. She begged me to give her new boyfriend a contract so that she could move you and Max away. She wanted to buy a house, settle you boys. Send you to a normal school.” His voice faded away. He grabbed the bottle and took a long swig. Seemed I wasn’t the only one having a hard time here.

I rubbed at my chest. My heart was squeezing. “She left with Randy. Never came back. Didn't even leave a fucking note.”

“That’s because she never intended to leave you. She only went with Randy to sign the contract and find a house in LA. She planned to fetch you and Max the next week.”

“Yeah? Well, Max and I are still waiting. She never fucking came for us.”

Bill was quiet for a long moment. The sorrow on his face was palpable. His steel-grey eyes—the exact color of mine—were so pained that I had to look away.

“That’s because there was an accident. Randy hit a bus head on. He was killed instantly—wasn’t even wearing a helmet. Marianne survived, but barely. She was in a coma for months, and when she finally came around, she’d lost her memory.”

“What the hell?” I breathed. My throat tightened, and my hands started trembling. It was slowly making sense why Marianne never came for us. Why she didn't save me from juvie.

Fuck.

Bill cleared his throat. He was having trouble talking. “I was married at the time. Even though I knew about you, I couldn’t do anything about it. But signing Randy up with a contract meant Marianne would move closer, and stay in LA permanently. I was planning to get to know you. I'd helped them secure a house, paid the school fees for you and Max.” He scrubbed a hand over his face. “Then when she never showed . . . at first I was angry. Thought she changed her mind. That she wanted to keep me from seeing you.”

“So, you’re saying you didn't know about the accident at the time?”

“No. I had no idea. At the time I was busy with a label takeover—I couldn’t risk my career trying to find out what happened. The scandal would have killed my business and my wife. She had bowel cancer and something like that wouldn’t have been good for her.” He blinked a few times, trying to regain his composure before continuing. “By the time I decided to look for you a few months later, you were no longer with the band. It was all hushed. Nobody would talk to me.” He fell silent, shrugging his shoulders. “I didn't know you were in juvenile prison. I'm sorry.” He choked on the last words, his eyes glittering with tears.

“So you just gave up?” My mouth was dry.

“My wife really needed me. Our daughter was taking her illness badly, so I had to help her, too. I had so much on my plate, and I figured Marianne took you boys and went elsewhere with Randy. I got tied up in my own life and business. The perils of a high-flying career and success. ” He laughed bitterly, shaking his head, his shoulders slumped.

I nearly felt sorry for the bastard. “So what changed? Why find me now?” I took a deep slug of my beer, and wiped the froth from my mouth.

“Marianne lived in an institution for years. She was practically an invalid. Her memory never came back—until one day, a few months ago. Apparently, out of the blue, one morning she woke up lucid and remembered everything. She told the nurses everything she could recall, and they contacted me immediately. I hadn’t changed offices in decades, so I was easy to trace.”

“You said that was only months ago. And she’s dead now?” I was shaking. My eye twitched below the scar. If William noticed, he didn't let on.

“I went to see Marianne as soon as I could. I’d just buried my wife. Things were pretty messed up.”

“Fuck. I’m sorry.”

“Yes, she fought the cancer, but in the end it took her. As for your mo—Marianne, I got to her just in time. She had contracted pneumonia, and was very sick. The woman was skin and bone. Nothing like the beautiful, vivacious young woman I had known and remembered.”

“What did she say? Could she remember what happened?” I held my breath.

“She remembered everything as if it were yesterday. Yet she had no concept of time. She thought you were still little boys. She made me promise to find you and Max, and to bring you to her. She was so excited to move to the new house, to start a new life. She didn't want to understand that years had passed, that her little boys were grown men. It was painful to watch.”

I swallowed hard. All these years, I’d hated Marianne for leaving us—not knowing what had really happened. Making assumptions. Wrong ones that had consumed me, and wasted half of my life.

My thoughts went to Jade. She had been right all along. I am worthy of being loved. My mother didn't leave me because she didn't love me. She had no choice in the matter. A fucking accident had taken that from her.

Sorrow built in me—a deep ache in my soul that couldn’t be soothed. Sorrow that I’d believed the worst of Marianne. Sorrow that I’d never tried to find her and seek the truth. And now it was too late. Just as I was beginning to understand unconditional love. My head pounded as it all sank in.

All those wasted years, feeling resentment and anger swirl in my belly. Pushing Jade away because I was afraid to lose her too. I was a fucking idiot.

With clarity born from a light-bulb moment, I knew I had to fight for Jade, now more than ever. I wanted what she offered. Unconditional love. Learning the truth of what had happened to Marianne was the turning point I so desperately needed.

“You spoke about your daughter. If I . . .if you . . . really are my father, then that means I have a sister?” Fuck, Max and I weren’t alone after all.

“A half-sister.” His eyes were hooded, and he looked even sadder—if that was possible.

“Bill?”

“She wants nothing to do with me. Came to the funeral and wouldn’t speak to me. Eva thinks it’s my fault that her mother died unhappily.”

“Eva. That’s a pretty name.” It was bizarre finding out about a sister I didn’t know existed.

Bill nodded. “She looks a lot like you. Same penetrating eyes. Dark hair. And . . . she’s stubborn. Smart too.” For a moment a smile flashed across his face. There was no mistaking how much Bill loved his daughter.

Silence fell between us for a few moments before Bill continued. “The guilt about you chewed at me, and I told Vivian everything, about my affair with Marianne that started while she was pregnant with your sister. We discovered the cancer just after Eva was born, so I kept the affair going with Marianne all through Vivian’s chemo treatment, too. When Eva found out about Marianne and . . . you, and my despicable behavior, she moved out of the house and refused to speak to me. She visited her mother during the day when I was at work. Even Christmas—”

I coughed and shifted uncomfortably in my chair. I didn’t know what the hell to say to that. We all had our fucking burdens to carry. In spite of being a music mogul, and with more wealth than he probably knew what to do with, William Ryder hadn’t had an easy life, either.

Jade’s words that night in her bedroom came into my mind: “We don’t always understand other people’s pain, Ryder. Just because we can't see it, doesn’t mean they aren’t hurting.” Her words were so true. I'd always imagined that the rich and famous didn't have the same problems that throwaway kids like me had. A wry smile twisted my lips. Fucking Princess. She was wiser than I ever gave her credit for.

“After Marianne died, I was even more determined to find you. I’d promised her I would. But it was more than that. Other than the few times I got to hold you as a baby, I never knew you. You are my son. I want to be part of your life.”