Ryder

“I’ll raise you as my son,” I murmured, staring at the boy in my arms.

Everything’s falling into place for me… I guess evil really does pay, son.

Unfortunately, you’re not actually mine. The DNA test showed between 1,300 and 2,300 centimorgans — about twenty-five percent related. Close enough to call family, but not enough to make you my son.

Still, you’d carry my name, my legacy. I’d love you like you were mine. But Isla? She can never know. Not a whisper.

I’d have ...