bad mood, and I wanted to know if she was bullshitting me or not. She wasn’t. I’m not Clementine’s father. Which means”—his red face morphed into a smile so nefarious I thought he was going to grow little horns on each side of his skull—“you’re the baby daddy, brousin. Now tell me, would it not kill your parents to know you were the MIA father to their granddaughter?” He cocked his head sideways. “This is highly unorthodox. The stuff Jerry Springer drama is made of.”
I grabbed the paper, skimming through it. Julian wasn’t lying. He wasn’t Clementine’s biological father according to the test. I looked back up at him, balling the paper in my fist and throwing it into the trash can across my office with easy accuracy. I said nothing.
“Amber told me she tried to tell you numerous times,” Julian accused, his lips twisting in feral disgust. I wondered if he was clinically sane. He seemed much more eager to blackmail the CEO position from me than mourn the news about his daughter not being biologically his after nine years of raising her. Only I knew Julian enough to know life had left him scarred beyond recognition from the inside. That was his way of dealing with this.
And there was something else I suspected—he’d known. He couldn’t have not known. Clementine didn’t look like either him or Amber. She didn’t have my colors, my angles, or my expressions either.
“I suppose she failed to mention I repeatedly asked for a paternity test,” I said.
“Well, you have it now.” Julian waved to the trash can behind us. “Obviously, I have more copies of it.”
“That’s not how paternity tests work, idiot. The only thing it proves is that you’re not the father. The rest of the world’s male population has officially become potential candidates.”
“You’re grasping at straws.” Julian bared his teeth. His eyes were shining. He wanted to cry. I leaned forward, no trace of malice in my voice.
“No, you’re losing everything you’ve ever had, because you tried to steal it rather than earn it. Now get out of my office, Julian. Come back with an apology if you want a brother. I don’t want to see you in any other capacity.”
I knew what I needed to do, but it was going to take a minute.
Instead of getting the hell out of my office, leaving a trail of smoke and the rancid smell of desperation that clung to him, Julian sprawled on the seat in front of me.
“As for Maddie . . .” He trailed off. Hearing her name on his tongue made me want to break every glass wall in the office using his head as the hammer. “You may be together now, but I know you weren’t together. Shortly before you came to the ranch, Ethan told me all about you. How you cheated on her. How she dumped you. Your little girlfriend even told him about all the women who came after her. All the hussies her boss saw going up to your penthouse. Now, let’s see. What do we have here? You lied to your family about being engaged. You fathered a child with the woman your brother married, keeping this fact from them—and me—and making me raise her as my own. I can tell Lori and Ronan you probably won’t be seeing a lot of Madison after he finally drops dead. That it is an arrangement. What are you paying her to cling onto your arm with starry eyes? Money? Shares? Status? Do you even see how pathetic it looks from the outside? Or maybe . . .” He got up, laughing as he shook his head, like this was nothing more than an elaborate personal joke. He was losing it. Crying. Laughing. Shaking all over. “Maybe I should just go directly to Madison and tell her about the kind of person she is dating. A man who fathered a child and didn’t even—”
He never got to finish that sentence.
I pounced on him with such speed we both sailed on the floor from the momentum, crashing against the glass door. Julian hit his head. I straddled him, no longer caring that we had an audience and that I was playing into his hands. Objectively speaking, I knew I looked like a certifiable asshole. But I’d reached the end of the road. Julian had sprinted past every red line I ever had and was officially so far off the rails he couldn’t even see the line. The idea