at the blanket statement as her eyes narrow in on Jonah. “I shouldn’t be surprised that Anders’s son is utterly depraved.”
Jonah, who has looked like he was in a fog since he and Milly broke apart, snaps out of it at the mention of Uncle Anders’s name. His face settles into an expression of intense hatred as he steps away from Milly and through the French door, stopping within a few feet of Mildred. “Yeah, well, I have a message from Anders,” he says. His voice is low and angry, but it carries easily through the silent ballroom. “He fucking hates your guts and always has.”
Shocked gasps run through the room as Gran’s face turns a mottled purple. I gape at Jonah in confused astonishment, half believing that I must have heard him wrong. Why on earth would he take a horrible situation like this, and make it worse? Donald inhales sharply beside me, looking as though he’d like to hurl Jonah right off the balcony.
The balcony. Where poor Milly is still standing, frozen, all by herself. I’m about to push past Donald and go to her when another voice rings out over the buzzing hum surrounding us.
“What a vicious lie. But what else can you expect from an imposter.”
I turn at the voice, but can’t see the speaker. Gran stiffens beside me and clutches Donald’s arm, her eyes going wide and almost terrified. “Go,” he says to her in a low voice. “I’ll take care of this.” And Gran just—leaves. Turns on her heel and heads back in the direction of her table, walking as quickly as her dress will allow.
The speaker breaks through the crowd, pausing as he catches sight of Donald. He’s short and slight but still oddly imposing, and crackling with suppressed energy. He has a shock of dark hair and a thin, ferret-like face. I recognize him instantly.
“Hello, Donald,” he says, stuffing his hands into his tuxedo pockets with a smirk. “Nice to see you again.”
“What the hell are you doing here, Anders?” Donald growls. “Who let you in?”
Uncle Anders shrugs, hands still in his pockets. “Security here isn’t what it used to be. You should thank me, though, for setting things straight before this entire room has a meltdown at the thought of cousinly incest. This boy?” He jerks his head toward Jonah. “Not my son. This is. JT!” He raises his voice, and another figure steps reluctantly forward. Even without the name, I would have known my actual cousin anywhere. He’s a carbon copy of his father, except instead of an arrogant smirk, his narrow features are pinched into a shifty, furtive expression. “Donald, let me introduce Jonah Theodore Story.”
“Holy crap.” Someone breathes into my ear as the ballroom erupts into low, urgent chatter. I turn to see Brittany beside me in her server’s uniform, and make a grab for her arm. I feel a surge of gratitude when I actually make contact, because all of this has such a dreamlike quality that I wouldn’t have been surprised to grasp thin air. “Jonah’s not Jonah?” she says.
“He is. Sort of,” I murmur back. “It’s complicated.”
“So he and Milly aren’t actually…” Brittany starts nodding as her eyes dart between Jonah and JT. “Everything makes so much more sense now.”
“What in God’s name are you pulling, Anders?” Donald asks.
“Me?” Uncle Anders puts a hand over his heart. “Absolutely nothing. I’m afraid, though, that you’ve all been the victims of fraud. My son, JT, is the only one of the next generation with a conscience.” I start getting a sick feeling in my stomach as Uncle Anders continues, “I’m sure you’re under the impression that my mother invited her grandchildren here. You couldn’t be more wrong. Let me explain what’s really going on.”
He has the room’s undivided attention, and he plays to it with a deep sigh. “My brother Archer approached the children and offered them jobs under false pretenses, hoping to worm his way back into our mother’s good graces. JT was the only grandchild who refused to accept, so Archer found a replacement. I had no idea any of this was going on until I saw a picture of our neighbor’s son at Fred Baxter’s funeral. I said to JT, ‘What in God’s name is Jonah North doing with your cousins?’ And we realized what must have happened.”
I squeeze my eyes shut for a second, frustration humming through my veins. Busted, by the Gull Cove Gazette. We should’ve realized our parents would