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“None that we’re aware of, but the bloodline’s been diluted and there are illegitimate children. You could’ve inherited your eyes from a distant relative removed many times over.”

“Did Cillian suspect my father of stealing his child?”

“No. Someone else took the fall and claimed the baby died during the trauma of being ripped from its mother. Cillian killed the man.”

“What you’re telling me is . . . is deplorable and something my father would never do, desperate or not. I refuse to take what is said at face value.”

“I understand. It’s a lot to take in. For now, concede. Give the boys and me time to find the bastard. We can’t have a turf war on our hands.”

He makes a good point. My cousins and the McCabes are competitors in the nightlife industry of the Bay Area. They both have stakes in nightclubs, strip clubs, and the bars that cater to a rougher crowd.

“And when you find him?”

“The choice is yours. Tell or keep our family’s secret.”

“Except you’re not my family. Not if what you’re telling me is true.”

“Family is about more than blood, Blaise. Remember that when we hunt down the bastard and deliver you his head. We don’t tolerate someone going back on their word.”

My grandfather did the unthinkable when the ransom was delivered to him. He negotiated with my kidnapper. He’ll pay, but I mustn’t be contacted. Otherwise, hell will rain down on his head.

After five years of silence, why did my kidnapper break his promise? Does he have something to do with my grandfather’s death? Most importantly, was he aware of my grandfather’s plan of shutting me out of his will, leaving me vulnerable to the big bad world, most especially him?

God, I wish my grandfather were alive. I didn’t get the chance to tell him happy birthday or that I loved him. Somehow, I have to make this right. I have to find a way to honor my memories of him.