Claimed by the Biker Giant (Maxine and Tank) novel Chapter 98

Maxine/Fixer POV

The lawyer was friendly, polite, just like when my Grandma died, and then my Grandpa, he read the wills in front of my parents, and when they got what they came for, my parents left me, alone with Tandy, and he comforted me, explaining that when I reach twenty-one, he has more to tell me. I didn’t know what he meant, and didn’t push for answers then. I know when a lawyer says later, nothing I could say or do would change that to now. So, I waited.

Well, until now, and here I am in his office, not yet twenty-one, and he has just blown my mind.

“Let me get this straight, my mother and father are my aunt and uncle, my aunt is my mother’s sister, and my sister is my cousin?” Just saying it makes me sick, all those years of living a lie, and no one thought to tell me, my grandparents thought I was better off where I was, or something like that.

“Yes.” He replied softly. I looked at the pictures of my real parents, tears flowing down my cheeks. This can’t be true.

“Why did you have to wait so long to tell me?” I asked, confused by all the secrecy. It would have saved me so much grief if I had known I could have reached out to my dad.

“You’re filthy rich. At first, your Grandparents tried to help you as much as they could. They agreed that if your aunt and uncle found out the true level of wealth, they would have done everything in their power to gain control over it, stripping you of what was your birthright. Do you see your real surname? They changed it. When? I have no clue, even your grandparents never knew. I didn’t know until now; before then, I had assumed you knew, and I used their name to keep life simple and avoid questions at school. That birth certificate’s fake. Astore was the name of your birth parents, and your grandparents are the owners of the Astore hotel chain.” I was lost for a while, in my own world of hurt, the depth of their betrayal over me was beyond imaginable. To steal my name from me was low. My grandparents, were rich, like mega rich, those hotels, are higher than a five star hotel, the elite or royalty stay at them, when they travel the world.

Then the opportunity to speak with my grandparents on my dad’s side, the ones that disowned my Mum and Dad, are they going to be just like my aunt and uncle? Are they reaching out to tell me that they never wanted me? Just like they threw my parents away.

“Call them, arrange it.” I was ready to take them on. I have had enough hurt; nothing they can say or do can make that any worse.

I linked the phone to his computer while we waited for the return call. It was odd for the man to say that, but maybe they needed to do it, to protect themselves. They might get thousands of calls a day, from people saying they know them or from beggars asking for money. I have seen money corrupt others. At school, the bullies were often the ones with the money or the girlfriends of said wallet.

I laughed at the sight of the ear, something my Grandma would have done. Not understanding that the video call was visual. I miss her, her laughter, her cooking, and her stories.

Then came the voice of a sweet older lady, and it made the butterflies in my stomach take flight. She sounded kind and warm. Not at all what I was expecting, sweeter, nicer.

They greeted us, spoke about us, but all I could do was stare at them on the screen, my voice lost in the void of emotions. I couldn’t get my mouth to open, and when I did, no sound would come. Those eyes of the man, who was my Grandfather, were exactly like mine; I couldn’t deny who they were. I had wondered where my eyes’ color came from, and now I know. It confirmed what the Lawyer had said, and my life had been a lie, one that my Grandpa tried to hide, so he could protect me, but failed, because he didn’t know till it was too late to do anything about it, he got glimpses, and thought at first it was growing pains, until he found out it wasn’t, but what could he do? Grandma was gone, and no court of law would give him custody of me. Not after living with my aunt and uncle for so long, and he needed proof, not just a child’s word. That was when he started to teach me survival and self-defence the right way. It started to make sense, the hurt and odd things my aunt and uncle often said, and I was too blind to see it. Mind you, I had no reason to believe they were not my parents. I was a baby when they took me from my Grandparents. They must have been convincing for my Grandparents to hand me over to them. I don’t blame them. My aunt and uncle are good at spinning believable lies.

My father’s parents. Father, I hope he’s alive. I want to meet him, get to know him better, and see if he would like me. Who was I becoming? I had many questions about why he never came to see me. Was I that bad a daughter? Or did I remind him too much of my mother, who had blonde hair as I did, and was tall and slender, like me? But then I only have these photos to go on. Maybe I am seeing what I want to see.

“Tank?” I threw the question at him, considering he didn’t answer my question about the club in that town.

“Sure, we can do that. Can we get your contact details? We can video call, or phone call, and send emails,” Tank asked, and I am glad he was on top of things; my mind was not yet focused enough to think of asking those questions.

“Sure. Tandy, and you give our Granddaughter our contact details.” Grandpa A turned his gaze to Tandy.

“It’s all in the file, with your father’s and mother’s photos and details. Any news on him yet? Didn’t you say last time we spoke that they had some leads on where they might have taken them hostage?” Tandy asked, and it was a question I had wanted to ask but was not ready to voice. This still felt so unreal.

“They are looking at sending in a reconnaissance team next week, will know more then.” I could hear the hope in his voice. This must have been a hard year for them, knowing he had gone MIA, and not knowing any more than that. In some ways, my not knowing him had saved me from a year of heartache over someone I had yet to meet.

There were a few moments of silence, as if none of us wanted to speak; it wasn’t uncomfortable, more like a silent prayer for my father.

“You are so beautiful, and to think we missed your childhood years, all because of my stubbornness, over who my son chose as a wife, I am forever kicking myself for my stupidity. I should have accepted and loved you both; instead, we have had no pitter-patter of little feet in our hallway.” Tears started again, and I was not the one crying. Mine were nowhere to be seen. I was over the tear part for now, maybe once home and digesting this all over again, I might let a few fall.