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Geoffrey’s professional pose remains, his expression reminiscent of when I reviewed Dad’s financial reports. Impatient and condescending.

To Geoffrey, Dad isn’t rambling. If anything, he’s annoyed I’m slow on the uptake.

“Dad, is Geoffrey your son?”

“Bastard child,” Dad says, lifting a shaky hand for more of the water I’m holding.

Slowly, I turn to Geoffrey. He’s at least twenty years older than me.

“He had you when he was fifty-two,” Geoffrey says. “Did you really think you were his only child?”

Well, yes, because that’s what he told me.

“You’re my brother?” He straightens his tie. “And you said nothing?”

“Half-brother,” he answers. “Your knowing wouldn’t have changed anything.”

Maybe it would have. I insisted he not join Bedrock and stay focused on Dad’s portfolios. I’d seen him as an important staff member for Dad.

“Why did Dad keep it a secret?”

Dad opens his mouth and closes it, eyes glazed. Is he following the conversation?

“Halston didn’t want people to know he sired a child with a prostitute.”

I study Geoffrey. I’ve disregarded the suit-wearing kiss-up for so long, but I mean, he’s so much older than me. We were never friends.

“Wow.” This news takes the bite out of Caroline’s accusations. The anger I felt coming over here has been completely replaced by…I’m not sure…confusion? Bewilderment? “Well, I’d say welcome to the family, but you’ve been with us all along.”

I can’t remember him not being there. And always in a suit.

“I wouldn’t say that.”

“You’re closer to Dad than I am.” It’s an honest assessment. He’s the guy Dad calls for everything. I manage the staff and ensure others are in place to handle his calls and requests.

“You’re taking this news better than I thought you would,” he says, studying me with the same analytical gaze I’ve seen across negotiating tables.

I maintain the composed demeanor that’s served me well in hostile takeovers and congressional hearings; there will be time to process the emotional implications later.

“Why didn’t you ever tell me? Why keep it a secret all these years?”

“I signed an NDA. It was a condition for him covering my college tuition. My mother signed one before that.”

Holy shit.

“But he looked out for you?”

He raises a shoulder, and the movement exposes a glint of his gold Rolex. “I’ve done well.”

“Of course, he did well,” Dad says. “Moore blood. And I looked out for him. Pushed him. Pushed both of you.”

There’s clear pride in his tone, pride that, at least with me, he doesn’t deserve. Gloria Hawkins raised me. She put up with unreasonable demands from my father to remain in my life.

A sense of unease sets in. “Do I know your mother?”

Please tell me it’s not Gloria. How old is Gloria? Would the math even work?

“You never met her. He insisted she keep her distance. The same way he kept your mother away.”

My mother left us, but maybe Geoffrey’s mother left Dad, too. His wives always left him, eventually.

A vision of Caroline flashes. Like father, like son.

There’s a knock on the door, and the weekend help files in.

A woman dressed in leggings and a zippered sweatshirt, presumably his personal trainer, asks, “Mr. Moore, do you think you might be up for a walk before bedtime?”

“It snowed,” he says.

“We won’t go outside. We’ll walk around the indoor pool. Or, if you’d like, you can swim.”

She looks to us for direction.

“Since he’s up, some movement would be good. He’ll sleep better,” I say, standing and backing away, giving her the all-clear.

She helps him up, and he slowly shuffles out of the room, back hunched slightly, his hand on the nurse’s arm for balance.

Geoffrey moves to the desk, opens the briefcase he always carries, and gathers his things.

Now it makes sense. Geoffrey’s always around, even on the weekends, because he’s watching out for his ailing father.

I’d thought he was always trailing Dad because it’s what Dad expected from his employee, or because maybe he aimed for inclusion in Dad’s will.

But no, they’ve been functioning as father and son.

“If you’d told me?—”

“NDA,” Geoffrey snaps.

“Should we… Do you want to…get dinner sometime?”

Geoffrey cocks his head. The light reflects off his spectacles.

“There’s no need to force a relationship where one doesn’t exist.”

Right .

“Did you shift to a conservative mix?” he asks.

“My investment strategy?” Is he really going there? “I’m covered.”

I’m on the fucking board of one of the world’s largest financial investment firms and, together with my father, own a majority stake. I have the world’s brightest geniuses managing my portfolios. That’s really what he wants to ask me about?

He gives a curt nod and moves to leave.

“Geoffrey—”

“This changes nothing between us. I could be your father. We’re too old to feign closeness.”

“You really don’t like me, do you?” On some level, I’ve always known he doesn’t, but I chalked it up to him seeing me as his boss’s son and of no importance to him.

“It’s not that.” He shoves a hand into his trouser pocket and rolls his lower lip. For the first time, I recognize the habit as similar to Dad. “If you want, let’s have dinner next week. I’ll have my assistant coordinate with yours.”

With that, he exits.

What the hell just happened? It doesn’t even matter. I’m over here in my father’s house, and my focus should be on Caroline.