The MC President's Forsaken Wife (Zara and Knox) novel Chapter 110

Chapter 68-1

Dad sends the message at nine seventeen in the morning:

Office. You and Mayhem. Now.

Clem

No explanation. No punctuation beyond the full stops. Which, for Dad, is basically the equivalent of setting off a flare.

I’m halfway through my first coffee in the garage when my phone buzzes. Mayhem’s does the same thing from the other side of the room. He reads the message, looks at me, and I look at him. Neither of us says anything.

Tucker glances up from the payroll paperwork. “Someone die?”

“Not yet,” Mayhem says, getting to his feet.

push away from the table, my stomach tightening before I’ve even stood up. There’s surely only one reason that Dad wants both of us in his office this early.

The results.

The DNA test.

Willow.

Mayhem reaches the landing first, but for once he doesn’t make a joke about me being slow, and frankly, that worries me more than the message itself.

Dad’s office door is open, and he’s sitting behind his desk with three mugs of coffee lined up in front of him and a sheet of paper lying face down beneath one hand.

Three coffees. That’s either thoughtful, or it’s ominous.

‘Close the door,” he says to Mayhem.

I take the chair on the left. Mayhem drops into the one beside me, stretching his long legs out like he’s trying to convince the room that he isn’t tense, but it doesn’t work. Dad looks at both of us, then at the paper, then back at us.

“Well?” Mayhem asks.

Dad exhales. “She’s mine.”

The room goes completely still. I stare at him. Mayhem blinks once. Then twice.

“You’re sure?” he says.

Dad turns the paper around and slides it across the desk. Mayhem grabs it, and I lean over his shoulder, trying to make sense of percentages, probabilities and language that feels far too clinical for something this enormous.

Dad taps one line with his finger. “Probability of paternity is over ninety-nine point nine percent.”

1:3

Chapter 68+.

Mayhem stares at it. “So…” He looks up. “You’re definitely the father.”

“Yes.

“And she’s definitely…” He glances towards me.

“Our sister,” I finish.

Mayhem leans back in his chair and rubs both hands over his-face. “Jesus Christ.”

Dad picks up his coffee, but he doesn’t drink it. He just holds the mug between both hands, and I look at him more carefully. He seems exhausted, like he’s been carrying the result alone for hours, even though the e-mail was probably opened ten minutes ago.

“How long have you known?” I ask.

“Half an hour.”

“And you didn’t call us straight away?”

“I made coffee.”

Mayhem snorts. “Good thing. I mean, we wouldn’t want to process the sudden appearance of a thirty-year-old sibling without caffeine.”

“She’s thirty-five,” Dad corrects.

Mayhem looks at him. “That’s what you’re focusing on?”

“It’s relevant.”

“It really isn’t.”

I take the mug Dad’s pushed towards me. “Where is she right now?”

Dad clears his throat. “Staying outside the city.”

“Where outside the city?”

He hesitates.

Mayhem narrows his eyes. “Why are you hesitating?”

“It’s some kind of…” Dad searches for the word. “Commune.”

Absolute dead silence.

I blink.

Mayhem blinks.

Dad looks irritated already.

“A what now?” Mayhem asks.

“A commune.”

23

Chapter 68+

In the near-winter?”

“I think it’s open year-round.”

“Does everyone wear robes?”

“I don’t know.”

“Is there chanting and yoga and meditation?”

“I didn’t ask.”

“Is there a leader called Moon Goddess?”

Dad’s mouth tightens. “She said it’s an intentional living community.”

“That’s just a commune wearing super fancy pants.”

I bite the inside of my cheek.

Dad looks at me. “Don’t.”

“I didn’t say anything,” I protest.

“You were about to.”

“I was just going to ask whether they have indoor plumbing,” I say innocently.

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