Chapter 4 The Madman's Child
# Chapter 4: The Madman's Child
The DNA report trembled in my hand, its clinical text spelling out a catastrophe far beyond Gideon's bathroom betrayal. Odessa stared at me, her face draining of color as I announced the truth.
"That's impossible," she whispered, reaching for the paper. "I've never even met Silas."
Callum moved with surprising speed, snatching the report before she could touch it. His eyes scanned the document, his expression hardening into something I couldn't read—rage, calculation, or perhaps even satisfaction.
"You're lying," he said finally, looking at Odessa. "My son has been institutionalized for three years. He doesn't receive visitors."
Odessa shook her head frantically, mascara-stained tears tracking down her cheeks. "I swear to God, I've never met him! This must be some mistake!"
Gideon had recovered enough to stand, his towel barely clinging to his hips, his chest heaving with anger. "You're carrying my brother's child? Was one Monette not enough for you?"
"I didn't—" Odessa began, but I cut her off.
"The report doesn't lie, but people do." I moved between them, a strange calm settling over me. This new development was unexpected, but not unwelcome. Chaos created opportunity. "The question is, how did this happen? And who arranged it?"
All eyes turned to Callum, who was now pouring himself a generous glass of whiskey from the bar cart, the DNA report tucked into his pocket. He took a long sip before answering.
"Silas has been allowed supervised visits to the vineyard's northern property twice a month." He swirled the amber liquid in his glass. "Security is discreet. Perhaps too discreet."
"You knew," I accused, watching his face carefully. "You knew and you let it happen."
Callum's eyes met mine, a flash of appreciation in them before his mask of indifference returned. "I know many things, Clarette. Including what you're trying to do right now."
Gideon moved toward his father, fists clenched. "You orchestrated this? To what end? To humiliate me on my wedding day?"
Callum laughed, the sound cold and hollow. "Don't flatter yourself, son. Not everything revolves around you."
"Stop it!" Odessa screamed, her hands protectively covering her still-flat stomach. "I don't care who arranged what! I'm carrying a child—a child whose father is apparently locked in an asylum!"
Advertisement
Her words hung in the air, heavy with implication. Silas Monette wasn't just Callum's second son—he was the family's darkest secret. Brilliant but unstable, he'd been diagnosed with a cocktail of mental disorders after a violent episode at the family's New York office three years ago. The official story was that he was studying abroad, but whispers in financial circles suggested something far more sinister.
"I need to leave," Odessa said suddenly, moving toward the door. "I can't be part of whatever sick game this family is playing."
I caught her arm as she passed, my grip firm but not unkind. "Where will you go? To the press? They'll destroy you before you can say a word against the Monettes."
Her eyes met mine, wounded and confused. "Why do you care? I betrayed you today."
"Yes," I agreed, "you did. With my husband. But this—" I gestured to her stomach, "—this is something else entirely. Something bigger than your indiscretion or my marriage."
I released her arm and turned to face Callum and Gideon. The father stood composed, calculating; the son disheveled, emotional. I knew which one held the real power.
"I'll be leaving the estate tomorrow," I announced. "I need space to consider whether this marriage can be salvaged."
Gideon's expression shifted from anger to panic. "Clarette, please—what happened with Odessa was a mistake. One stupid mistake."
"Was it?" I asked, arching an eyebrow. "Or was it just the first time I caught you?"
Callum set down his glass, his attention fully on me now. "Where will you go?"
The question carried weight beyond the words themselves. He was asking whose side I was choosing.
"I have an apartment in Manhattan," I replied coolly. "I think some distance from the Monette name would do me good right now."
"You can't just leave," Gideon insisted, moving toward me. "We're married now. We have obligations, appearances to maintain."
I stepped back from his approach. "Obligations? Like fidelity? And as for appearances, I think your father has demonstrated that the Monette family is quite skilled at maintaining those, regardless of the rot beneath."
Callum's mouth twitched in what might have been amusement. "Let her go, Gideon. A caged bird never sings sweetly."
Gideon whirled on his father. "Stay out of this! This is between me and my wife!"
"Is it?" Callum's voice dropped dangerously low. "Or did you forfeit that right when you fucked her maid of honor in a church bathroom?"
The tension in the room was suffocating. I moved to the closet, pulling out the overnight bag I'd packed before the wedding—a contingency I'd prepared, knowing that whatever happened today, I might need a quick escape.
"Odessa," I said, turning to my former friend, "you should come with me. At least for tonight."
She looked surprised by the offer. "Why would you help me?"
I smiled, though it didn't reach my eyes. "Because that child you're carrying is a Monette, which means it's already in danger. And because I want to know exactly how you ended up pregnant by a man you claim never to have met."
As we moved toward the door, Callum's voice stopped me.
"Clarette," he said, my name like dark honey on his tongue. "Don't think leaving means you've escaped. A Monette bride remains a Monette, regardless of geography."
I turned back to him, meeting his intense gaze. "I'm not trying to escape, Callum. I'm simply changing the playing field."
With that, I left the presidential suite, Odessa trailing behind me, leaving father and son to their whiskey and recriminations. In my purse, my phone buzzed with an incoming message. I didn't need to look to know who it was from.
The game was just beginning.
