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She gives me a sad smile and intertwines our fingers. "I did need to. You know how people say that when we lose someone, we need to see the body in the coffin to find closure, to go through mourning? I think I experienced something like that today."
"I’m never going to forgive myself, Taylor." I lean my head back against the seat, and as has happened since her memory returned, I recall what she told me: that she was locked in a cage like an animal.
"You will, because we’ll have more good days than bad in our life together, and the time will come when everything I went through will be nothing more than a memory of a terrible episode."
The testimony of the man who, after a DNA test, proved to be my older brother lasted almost five hours. We heard a true horror story.
Initially, my lawyers were skeptical that he would actually reveal everything, but it seems that after years in the shadows, he couldn’t wait to be the star of his own story.
He disclosed that he was William III’s son by a young prostitute. He was born only a few months before me and spent a long time in poverty alongside his mother.
It was only about five years ago that he learned his biological father’s identity through a DNA test in a genealogy lab.
He said it took his mother a long time to admit that William III might be his father, and when she finally did, Curtis went after him to confirm.
It was a shock on several levels—not only because he discovered his father was a wealthy man but also because, after some research, he realized his father preferred much younger women.
Too young to be considered a “healthy” preference in our society, he said, without going into detail. A preference very similar to his own.
The only difference between father and son was that Curtis didn’t care about his chosen partner’s consent. Our father, according to his discoveries, had a Don Juan complex—he considered himself irresistible and lived under the illusion that women nearly forty years younger genuinely desired him.
Armed with this powerful information, Curtis blackmailed William, who quickly gave in. Our father wanted to avoid having his name linked to a career criminal, the son of a prostitute, and had no interest in letting the world discover that he didn’t truly care about the legal age of consent.
Curtis started leading a life of luxury in secret, thanks to his newly discovered father, but he didn’t think it was enough. He wanted the years that had been stolen from him—the trips I took, the college I’d attended, my career.
Equal rights for both sons, as he put it.
He wasn’t direct about it, but based on Taylor’s memories of being under his power, the man became obsessed with me.
He revealed very little about his own life before meeting our father, but from what he let slip, he had always been a sexual predator, also committing small offenses like theft and break-ins.
When it came to women, he started being violent toward his “girlfriends,” as he called them, at a very young age. Initially, he just scared them, but soon he escalated to stalking and then to rape.
He was nearly caught once, but by then, “Daddy” William was there to protect him—along with some corrupt police officers who kept him out of prison.
His worthless life alternated between obsessively following mine and harming women, until the day he got a request from my father to help kidnap Taylor.
He said William III wanted to “steal” her for himself and that, after offering him a hefty sum, Curtis agreed to help.
However, once he started following her, he realized that she and I were involved. In his deranged mind, taking her for himself would be his first real victory over me.
William III said he wouldn’t allow that—that the agreement was that Curtis wouldn’t touch her. But even knowing Taylor’s safety was at risk, the woman our father supposedly confessed he was “in love with,” he did nothing to stop Curtis from carrying out the kidnapping. He planned every step with him, provided everything he needed.
On the day the abduction was supposed to happen, they had an argument. Our father wanted to call it off. That’s why William went to the bar: there was no actual job for Taylor. He intended to drug her, take her away, and gradually seduce her, offering a luxurious life, treating her like a princess. Making her not just his mistress but his wife.
A twisted and cruel fantasy, in which her own desires didn’t matter so long as his were fulfilled.
He thought that, for a poor girl, it would be an irresistible offer.
As we now know, it didn’t work. Taylor refused to take the job or even accept a ride home. So our father changed his mind again, called Curtis, and told him to go through with the original plan—kidnap her and take her to the cabin in Tennessee.
Everything else happened as Taylor recounted: the gas in the kitchen, her throwing the lit lighter and running away.
The only difference was that it wasn’t Taylor’s action that caused the fire. Our father was lying in wait, and in my opinion, he deliberately planned to kill his own son and emerge as the hero, causing the young, poor, and terrified Taylor to fall for him.
Her jumping into the river, breaking her legs, ending up in a coma, and losing her memory was an unexpected bonus for him. But that last part is mostly speculation and logical deduction, since Curtis’s final memory is William telling him in the cabin’s kitchen:“Die. She’s mine.”Then he set fire to the place.
"It’s terrifying to think that your father always had some sort of plan for me," Taylor says, as if guessing my thoughts.