"You’re making excuses," George said flatly. "If you’d stood firm, he would have backed down. They always do when you show them you’re not afraid."
The sheer delusion in that statent left Keaton montarily speechless.
Did his father genuinely believe that? Or worse—had he always been this way, and Keaton was just seeing it clearly now?
"You want to know why I backed down? Fine. I’ll tell you." Keaton heard himself say, the words spilling out before he could reconsider.
George’s expression changed slightly, suspicion creeping into his eyes.
"I backed down," Keaton continued, his voice drawled playfully, "because Grayson Maxwell showed sothing very interesting during our conversation."
The hover car turned a corner. For a mont, the passing headlights from another vehicle swept through the interior. The light caught Keaton’s eyes, making them gleam with sothing that might have been satisfaction or might have been rage.
"They showed a legal file,"
Keaton said, watching his father’s face carefully.
"Docuntation, actually. Very thorough docuntation proving that Mick isn’t just so distant relative we took in. Not out of the goodness of our hearts. And most certainly not because he was competent enough to fight for succession."
He paused, letting the mont stretch.
"He’s your biological son."
The change in George’s expression was subtle but unmistakable. The anger drained away, replaced by sothing colder, more calculating. His jaw tightened almost imperceptibly.
"Where did they—" George started, then stopped himself. "That’s confidential family information. They had no right—"
"They had every right when Mick decided to commit cris on the company property."
Keaton cut him off.
"Background checks beco very thorough when criminal charges are involved. Funny how these things co to light."
George’s face had gone blank, the expression of a man rapidly reassessing his position.
"This doesn’t change anything. Mick is family, regardless of—"
"Regardless of the fact that you got a woman in her early twenties pregnant?"
Keaton’s voice was conversational, filled with satisfaction, making the words hit harder.
"Regardless of the fact that you then married her off to your fourth cousin?"
The muscle in George’s jaw jumped. "You don’t understand the circumstances—"
"Oh, I understand perfectly."
Keaton leaned forward slightly, his reflection visible in the holographic display’s glow.
"I understand that you needed a cover story. I understand that you were already married to my mother at the ti. I understand that you decided the best solution was to marry your mistress to a relative so you could keep both her and the child close."
His voice hardened. "Tell , did you share her? Is that how it worked?"
"Watch your mouth," George growled. "You’re talking about things you know nothing about—"
"Then explain it to ." Keaton spread his hands in mock invitation. "Please, enlighten about the circumstances that made it acceptable to cheat on your dying wife."
"Your mother was already sick!" The words burst out of George like the dam they were holding back finally gave way. "We couldn’t have just one child in the family. I needed heirs, backups—"
"Backups," Keaton repeated the word slowly, tasting its bitterness. "Is that what I am? A backup? What about Mick? What about all the others?"
George’s hands clenched into fists on his lap. "This is not a conversation for—"
"I heard sothing else interesting,"
Keaton continued as if George hadn’t spoken.
"That woman—Mick’s mother—she got pregnant again a few years after you took Mick under your wing. Officially brought him into the family."
He tilted his head, studying his father’s face.
"Is that child yours, too? Or does it belong to the cousin you married her to?"
"That’s none of your business—"
"Because here’s what I’m wondering."
Keaton’s voice dropped lower, more intimate. The tone one uses when sharing secrets.
"I have a lot of cousins around my age. An unusually high number, really, for a low birth rate galaxy like ours, when you think about it. All these family mbers who suddenly needed financial support, who were brought into the company, were given positions and security."
His eyes locked with George’s through the holographic display.
"I wonder how many of them are actually your children. How many of their mothers were your mistresses?"
The silence that followed was suffocating. Even the hover car’s engine seed to fade into the background noise.
George’s face had gone through several shades of emotion before settling on sothing between resignation and defiance.
He sighed, the sound heavy with weariness. He looked like a father who was dealing with an ungrateful son who just wouldn’t understand the burdens of power and responsibility.
"We’ll talk when you get back to the mansion," George said finally, his tone suggesting the conversation was over.
"No."
Keaton’s voice had changed into sothing grave, sothing that didn’t match the easygoing persona he usually wore. It was as if he had finally reached his limit.
George’s eyes widened a little.
Keaton had never said no. At least, not to his face like this.
"Tell ," Keaton said carefully.
"My stepmother—the woman you married three years after Mom died. She brought a ten-year-old child, claiming it was from her previous marriage."
He paused, watching his father’s expression.
"Is that kid yours or her ex-husband’s?"
For the first ti in Keaton’s mory, his father’s carefully constructed mask was completely shattered. Guilt flashed across George’s features—raw, naked. It was there for only a mont, but it was enough for Keaton to know everything he needed to know.
"Mine," George said finally, the admission barely more than a whisper.
As expected.
The way George doted on the boy felt different from ordinary step-parental affection.
But suspecting and knowing were two very different things.
A laugh bubbled up from Keaton’s chest—broken, desperate, edged with sothing that might have been hysteria if he let it take hold.
"Mom was still alive five years ago."
The math was simply brutal. His mother had been alive when George got his current wife pregnant. Alive and probably aware that her husband’s attention had already moved on to another.
"Keaton—" George called out.
"You disgusting old man."
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