“What?” I pull Easton into my chest, covering his tiny ears with the towel so he doesn’t pick up any of this conversation.
“I found him in his bed. The staff hadn’t gone near him all day because they had strict instructions never to disturb him in his bedroom.”
“God, Reeve.” I don’t say I’m sorry because the only emotion I’m feeling is concern for my husband. I know you shouldn’t speak ill of the dead, but maybe this is for the best. Perhaps this is the release Reeve needs to finally put his father and his heartless neglect behind him. “I’ll be right over. I’ll ask Charlotte to put Easton to bed.”
After arranging for our live-in housekeeper to take over with E, I rush out of the house, telling Leon, my bodyguard, that he’s not needed.
Reeve is one of the most famous actors on the planet, so I didn’t object when he hired a team of bodyguards to protect us. We tend to only bring them when we’re going out somewhere in public, and Leon drives me to and from work so he can watch out for me. There are plenty of crazies out there—I know that from personal experience. Unfortunately, we never found the girls who assaulted me, and we never found evidence to charge Saffron Roberts.
But karma came through in the end.
She’s a known junkie who has fallen off the wagon several times. There are videos of her losing it, ranting like the psycho bitch she is, and her career is in the toilet because no one will go near her. Her looks have been ravaged by drugs, and she looks like shit. All her so-called friends ditched her, and her sister—her only sibling—publicly exclaimed she has cut ties with her, that she’s beyond help. Last I heard, she has resorted to starring in porn to feed her habit.
Maybe I should feel sorry for her, but I don’t. Not one little fucking bit. If that makes me a bad person, then so be it. She caused me a world of pain when she tried to ruin my life, but in the end, she ruined her own future.
I have zero sympathy. She brought it all on herself.
The coroner and the cops are arriving at the house as I am, and I hurry up the steps, sliding my arms around Reeve and holding him tight. His arm sneaks around my shoulders, and he clings to me, his whole body trembling. He’s as white as a ghost and clearly shocked.
I stay by his side, squeezing his hand, as he gives a statement to the police. I complete some paperwork for the coroner, and we watch from the hallway as his father is led out in a body bag.
Sitting Reeve down on the couch in the main living room, I place a glass of whiskey in his hand, urging him to drink, while I gather the household staff and talk to them about the future. They are shocked but also worried about their jobs, so I reassure them it’s business as usual for now, until Reeve decides what he wants to do with the house, and not to be concerned as we will ensure they are all looked after.
Taking Reeve’s hand in mine, I lead him outside, placing him in the passenger seat of my car and strapping him in. Tears prick my eyes as I press a kiss to his brow. I hate seeing him like this. He’s in a daze, staring numbly into space, and my heart aches for him. Even though they had a dysfunctional relationship, he was still his father, and I know this is going to hit Reeve hard.
A few days later, the coroner’s report confirms the time of death, and we learn that Simon died of a massive heart attack around the time Reeve was collecting his first Oscar award.
Even in death, Simon Lancaster is finding ways to fuck with his son.
Reeve flounders in the weeks after his father’s death. Technically, Reeve is an orphan now, and his father’s passing has raised an almost obsessive need to discover everything he can about his mother and his parents’ relationship. Mom and Dad talk to him at length, sharing everything they were there to experience, passing on photos and trying to support him the best they can.
Reeve doesn’t cry. He goes about his day, as normal, but he’s not himself, and I’m worried. One night, a couple of weeks after the funeral, he finally cracks, sobbing like a little boy, and it hurts my heart. He clings to me with a desperation that pains me. Making love becomes a regular nightly occurrence, not that I’m complaining—hello, pregnancy hormones—but he struggles to sleep a lot, and I’m at a loss how best to help him.
I know losing a parent is hard, but Reeve didn’t have a close relationship with his father, and I didn’t think he’d struggle this much. When I ask him, he says he’s realized he lost the chance to ever put things right, and that kills me because Reeve tried everything to get through to his dad. He seems to have forgotten he was going there that day to cut him off, but I don’t remind him of that. I can’t relate, and I don’t fully understand what’s going through his mind, only he’s trying to process the loss of a wishful hope rather than the passing of the actual man.
I suggest therapy, and I’m glad when he agrees.
Reeve pulls out of the movie he was due to film, and I take time off to care full-time for my family. Easton is a source of enormous comfort to Reeve. Father and son grow even closer during this time. Holding his family tight is important to Reeve, and we’re here for him. My pregnancy is another source of comfort, and Reeve is thrilled when our scan reveals we are expecting a little girl.
Gradually, he returns to himself, but I still encourage him to continue seeing his therapist. Reeve has a lot of unresolved emotions when it comes to his father, and I don’t want to see him derailed.
“Carson Park wants to see us,” Reeve announces the day after my twenty-sixth birthday. Reeve spoiled me with lavender roses and too many gifts including a beautiful, framed photo of him and Easton and another of our scan pic. We had a sumptuous meal at our favorite restaurant last night, and my husband spent hours at home worshiping every inch of my body as he made sweet, sweet love to me. It was the perfect way to celebrate, and I’m feeling all loved up today.
“How come?” I ask. “We already know the contents of the will.”
Simon left everything to Reeve, including his shares in Studio 27.
Up until his death, Simon was CEO of the hugely successful production company. His second-in-command has already been promoted in his stead. The studio knows Reeve has zero interest right now in following in his father’s footsteps, but they have a vested interest in knowing his intent with regards to his inherited investment. The new CEO and a couple of the directors are keen to take the shares off his hands, but I don’t like it. I suggested Reeve hold off making any firm decision, as there’s no rush. Down the line, he may want to take a more active role, and I don’t think he should limit his options.
“I have no clue. He just said there is a matter he needs to discuss. I made an appointment for noon tomorrow.”
“Okay. I’ll let my boss know I’ll be offline for a few hours.”
“What’s this about, Carson?” Reeve asks the next day after we have taken our seats in the attorney’s office.
“Your father trusted me with a personal matter many years ago. He left instructions that after his death I was to tell you the circumstances. I had planned on talking to you the day the will was read, but I could tell you weren’t in the right place to hear this news.”
“What is it?” Reeve automatically laces his fingers in mine, and I rub reassuring circles with my thumb on the back of his hand.
“There is no easy way to disclose something like this, so please excuse me if I’m blunt.”
Reeve nods curtly, and I’m starting to get a bad feeling about this.
“You are aware of the circumstances of your birth and your mother’s tragic passing, but you aren’t privy to the full facts.”
Reeve and I share a perplexed expression. “What facts?” I ask.
“Your mother died during childbirth, but it wasn’t giving birth to you.”
Shock splays across Reeve’s face, matching my own. “What do you mean?”
“You have a twin, Reeve. An identical twin brother.”