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He brushes my hair behind my ear. “I have something I need to tell you.”

The tone of his voice makes my stomach clench. I blink down at him. “Okay…”

He exhales slowly. “There’s never gonna be a perfect time, so…I’m just gonna do it now.”

The tightness spreads from my stomach to my chest. I sit up, clutching the sheet to my body. “What is it?”

He lifts me by my hips, gently settling me next to him on the bed. He reaches over to the nightstand and retrieves his laptop. That alarms me more than the ominous tone in his voice.

“You’re scaring me,” I say, heart pounding now.

“Sorry.” He clicks away. “Just give me one second.”

He doesn’t reassure me that it’s not bad, which lets me know it’s pretty damn bad.

I can see on his face that he’s dreading this as he turns the laptop towards me.

The first thing that jumps out at me is my name.

There are numbers. Terms I don’t recognize. But my name is clear, and so is the name in theALLEGED FATHERcolumn.

Clayton Wilson.

Probability of paternity: 99.9999%

My hand flies to my mouth.

I don’t breathe. I don’t even blink. My body just…locks up.

Julian puts a hand on my back. “I’m sorry.”

“Redd was my father?”

Julian nods grimly. “That was the main reason for the friction. We thought maybe it was all business, but this was hella personal. Dime took him out for it.”

I stare at the screen as if the numbers will magically change. “Do you think my father knew?”

“Nah. I kinda get the feeling Dime was looking out for your pops. Being a good friend in his own way, I think." I brush her hair back from her face and kiss her cheek. "He only bankrolled the hit on Dash. Brett was the one who ordered it.”

The sheet falls from my chest, but I barely notice. I lay my head on Julian’s shoulder, my mind racing.

“Wow,” is all I can manage. “Like mother, like daughter.”

His arm tightens around me. “It doesn’t mean anything,” he reassures. “I know better than anybody—blood doesn’t necessarily make you family. Big Ray raised you. He loved you. That’s all that matters.”

I nod slowly. “I know. But still…it’s a lot.”

“I know.”

We sit in silence. He strokes my back with his thumb, grounding me in the present as I fight the urge to relive the past.

“This information is yours to do what you want with it,” he says. “You don’t owe anybody shit, so do what you feel. I’m behind you either way.”

I stare down at his other hand, which is holding mine. His knuckles are rough and scarred. So much death he’s seen, some of it at his hand, but now he’s using his touch to bring me life.

“I’m not gonna mention it to her,” I say of my mother. “I’m sure she had her reasons. I get it, maybe more than I want to.” I shake my head. “How did I end up making the exact same mistake as her, though?”

“Wasit a mistake?”