Chapter 5

CHAPTER 5

Ethan

"It's Mr. Gillam," Kat announces from her seat by the front window in the formal sitting room.

Her words cut through the silence, causing me to jerk slightly from my position at the mantel. Like the rest of the family has been doing, I've been quietly mulling over the upcoming events that will change all our lives. My nerves are frayed and have been that way since Todd Gillam called with the paternity results.

Because Sylvie is my exact replica, I wasn't surprised to find out I'm her biological father. I'll never admit it to anyone, but a slight fissure of disappointment ran through me upon learning the truth because I know that life is going to become infinitely more complicated. It's not just the fact I have a surprise daughter out of the blue after nine years of secrecy, but she's half Mardraggon and that is going to cause problems.

Moments later, the doorbell rings and my mother is there to welcome Sylvie's attorney into the Blackburn home. She leads him into the formal room where introductions are made to the rest of the family and then she plies him with a cup of coffee.

Sitting on the edge of a dainty love seat, the attorney hands me a three-ring binder. "Everything you need to know about Sylvie, including all of her school and medical records. Please note she has a severe allergy to penicillin but otherwise is in perfect health. Alaine had boxes of stuff she'd saved over the years… things Sylvie has made in school or at home, photographs, et cetera. She wanted you to have them all for safekeeping and those are all in storage, but this binder has the most important stuff."

History.

That's what Todd Gillam is offering me. A story about my daughter's life… years of memories, interesting tidbits and important facts that if I knew right now, I might have a tenuous thread with her. As it stands, I have nothing to offer other than a solid roof over her head and a determination to give her a good life.

Sylvie is due to arrive any moment, the Mardraggons insisting on dropping her off here. After the paternity results were registered with the court yesterday, Judge Laudermilk ordered that custody immediately be transferred to me from Lionel and Rosemund Mardraggon.

It's all happening so fast and I'm not ready. Not just in a physical sense—setting up a room for her and registering her for school—but trying to figure out how being a single dad will work with my already hectic schedule. I need time to prepare emotionally. Having children has never been something I've considered. I'm not built for long-term relationships, which I'd have wanted if I were ever to have a child.

I accept the binder from Todd. "I met with Sylvie yesterday," he says, his tone full of dire warning. "She's not happy to be coming here."

"I expected as much," I reply cautiously.

"My suspicion is that her grandparents have been filling her head with things. Trying to poison her against you."

"Typical," Trey grumbles. He's sitting in the other chair by the window next to Kat. My parents have settled on the couch and Wade paces back and forth near the bookcase. My entire family has been doing nothing the past few days but trying to figure out all the ways the Mardraggons are going to make life hell on us. One thing I know for sure—the Mardraggons will not care if Sylvie is an innocent bystander in this war.

I, however, refuse to let her be a pawn. That is of paramount importance, not because I know anything about being a dad, but I know a thing or two about doing what is right.

"As it stands," Todd continues, "you're under no obligation to let Sylvie see the Mardraggons. I expect they'll petition for that right soon enough but until such time occurs, I would keep her solidly under your guidance and protection and remove any outside influence. It's what Alaine wanted."

"That's what I don't understand," Kat says, shifting in her chair and crossing one leg over the other. She has lessons lined up starting in about half an hour, so she's dressed to hit the barn, just as Trey and Wade are. I'm taking the day off, though, because I need to get to know Sylvie. "Why did Alaine want Sylvie with Ethan and not her family? By all accounts, she was close with her parents and her brother, Gabe."

"I'm not at liberty to disclose the conversations I've had with either Alaine or Sylvie." Todd looks around the room at everyone in turn. "I'll only say that while Alaine was a Mardraggon through and through, she ultimately wanted a different environment for her daughter."

Kat snorts. "One filled with love, which is a concept the Mardraggons know nothing about."

"That's not for me to say," the attorney replies almost primly.

"You don't have to say it," Wade pipes in. "We know it, but we'll make it right."

Todd stands from the couch and pins his gaze on me. "Can we talk in private?"

It isn't the request so much as the tightened tone beneath the words. I glance at my father who remains stoic as he normally does. Gaze going back to the attorney, I jerk my head toward the door and lead him into my office across the large parquet foyer, which is split by the grand staircase.

This used to be my dad's office, and his father's before that and so on down the line, all the way back to my great-great-great-grandfather, Robert Blackburn, who built this house in 1902. Robert was the son of Cyrus who was brother to Elizabeth. The hatred of the Mardraggons for their role in her death was transferred from Cyrus to Robert and down the line. I often suppose many conversations were held at the massive oak desk that sits in the middle of the room about the best ways to ruin that family and their bourbon empire.

I don't bother taking a seat, instead turning to face Todd when the door closes. "What did you want to talk about that required privacy?"

The attorney levels an apologetic smile. "I think it's beautiful that your family is here to welcome Sylvie but I'm not sure it's a good idea."

Frowning, I cross my arms over my chest. "Come again?"

"Sylvie is… how do I say this?"

"You come right out and say it," I reply in a low rumble of warning to get on with it.

Resolution sweeps across Todd's face and his chin lifts. "She's been ingrained to hate you and yours as deeply as any Mardraggon ever has. I think Lionel and Rosemund have upped the spite this past week. Sylvie isn't just a kid being tossed about among homes. She's leaving a place that, while it may not be filled with love and warmth, it is what she knows. And she's been taught that the Blackburns are as near to the devil as it gets."

"Fuck," I mutter, scraping a hand through my hair. "What have they said to her?"

"I'm not sure the exact details but the words she has used to describe your family are far from flattering. She is not a shy child and will tell you exactly how she feels."

"She'll learn otherwise," I say confidently. "She'll see we're a good family, certainly our reputation—"

Todd holds up a hand. "You don't need to give me your résumé. It was enough for me that Alaine wanted Sylvie with you. I'm merely suggesting you soft sell this welcome today. I'd have your family leave and you do this one-on-one with Sylvie. She sees all the Blackburns united, it won't be to offer her solace and love. She'll see it as an opposing force."

I can't imagine it. Her grandparents—my parents—have tons of presents to bestow upon her and my mother wants to get her right into the kitchen to bake cookies. Kat is ready to take her clothes shopping tomorrow, Trey wants to take her fishing on one of the farm ponds and Wade is ready to give her the grand tour on one of the ATVs.

Sylvie will be cherished by all.

"You're free to do as you choose," Todd says, checking his watch. "I'm just giving some unsolicited advice."

I want to argue with him, but I have no choice but to trust he knows my daughter better than I do. My family will be disappointed, but I'm going to do as he suggests and ask them to be scarce for a while. Besides, Sylvie is my daughter and we should have some time alone to get to know each other. I am confident I'll be able to reach through to her and if I can't do it alone, I have a lot of determined Blackburns at my back to help.

?

My family was understanding of Todd's suggestion that they not be present when Sylvie arrives. My mom, I could tell, was heartbroken as this is her first grandchild, and I know she has built up in her mind a beautiful memory they would create together. Her eyes were bright with unshed tears as she kissed me on the cheek and said, "It's fine. We'll all be fine."

I sure as shit hope so but my stomach is tight with nerves and insecurity as they all leave out the side kitchen door. My siblings are off to work on the farm and my parents are heading to their cottage. They insisted that the Blackburn homestead pass to me when I assumed the official head of the business enterprise. Moreover, I'm the official patriarch now that they've retired and are traveling so much, which often includes months at a time in Ireland.

The Mardraggons are almost twenty minutes late when they pull up the long driveway canopied by hundred-year-old oak trees, in Lionel's Land Rover. Like the Blackburns, they are a family of immense wealth, theirs fueled by their bourbon empire and built bigger by their winery in France. Lionel is flashy and loves his expensive clothes and cars. He is most often seen driving around Kentucky in a two-seater Ferrari, but that isn't feasible for today's visit. I can see through the window that Rosemund is with him in the front seat and I assume Sylvie is in the back.

With no intention of inviting the enemy into my home, I lead Todd out onto the front portico as the SUV comes to a stop. Heart thundering with a volatile mixture of anticipation and fear, my gaze is riveted on the back passenger door where my daughter will exit. I can't see inside because the back windows are tinted, but I clearly see Lionel and Rosemund talking to each other.

No… they're arguing, if their tight expressions are any indication, and Lionel twists his neck to say something to Sylvie in the back. His expression is fierce and foreboding, and it is clear that Sylvie is involved in the argument as well.

I start to make a move down the steps, but Todd shakes his head. "Just wait. Give them time."

I clench my hands into fists but wait.

Seconds feel like hours and eventually Rosemund's door opens and she steps out. Fashionable as always, she wears designer jeans and knee-high boots paired with a blue silk blouse. Jewels twinkle from her ears and fingers. My breath catches as she opens the rear passenger door and Sylvie slides from the seat.

I pay no attention to Lionel who also exits and moves to the rear of the vehicle, pulling out a single suitcase. My eyes remain on the little girl with black hair and green eyes that are brightened by the morning sun. She's wearing a pair of jeans, tennis shoes and a zip-up hoodie. Sylvie doesn't look at Rosemund or me or even Todd, but rather her gaze rakes in a cursory glance over the massive house. Her lip curls slightly as if she has been dumped off in front of a hovel.

"I'm not living here," she announces haughtily, that French accent coming across as aristocratically entitled. I want to defend my birthright, this historical home that holds my and, one day, Sylvie's legacy. But I keep my emotions reined tight and hold my silence.

"I don't like it any more than you do," Rosemund replies dryly as she clasps her hands before her and turns to face me. "But that crook of a judge seems to think you belong here."

"Let's go," Lionel demands, now at Sylvie's side with her suitcase.

"I won't," his granddaughter says, completely unfazed by her grandfather's commanding presence. Despite the fact she is being disobedient to an elder, I have to admire her fearlessness toward one of the most feared men in Shelby County. Lionel Mardraggon is an asshole to most everyone.

"You will, young lady." Lionel grabs her wrist while Rosemund steps back, completely at ease with her husband taking the lead.

I, on the other hand, am infuriated as the large man starts to pull my daughter forward, even as she digs in her heels in an attempt to hold her ground. Without thought, I'm down the steps in a nanosecond, growling, "Get your hand off her."

Lionel freezes, Sylvie blinks in wide-eyed surprise and Rosemund gasps. Todd is right there, a restraining hand on my forearm to bring me up short.

"Let's everybody stay calm," Todd says as if a major fight is about to break out.

I glance down to where Lionel's large hand is wrapped around Sylvie's wrist. "I said, get your hand off her."

Lionel doesn't so much as release Sylvie as she instead tugs away from her grandfather. She looks up at him though and ignores me and Todd. "You can't make me stay here. I'll just run away."

Thankfully, Todd has forged some sort of respectable relationship with Sylvie over the last few months because he moves to stand in front of her. Pulling his dress pants up a bit at the thigh, he squats to get eye level with her. "Sylvie… I know how hard this is for you. And I know that you have absolutely no control, which has to make everything a hundred times worse. It's true, you could run away because you're smart and crafty and every bit of your mother. But I want you to remember two things. This is what your mother wanted for you and she loved you more than anybody in the entire world. But more importantly, and you need to take this to heart, if you do run away, you're going to be caught. And when that happens, there's nowhere to go except one place that is more horrible than the option before you."

Sylvie lifts her stubborn little chin. "And where is that?"

"Foster care. I don't know if you know what that means since you were raised in France, but here in the United States, wayward children who can't be controlled and don't follow judges' orders go into the foster care system. That means you would be placed with people you don't know."

Sylvie shoots me a glare. "I don't know him."

Todd actually smiles, amused by her proclamation. "That is true. But I do. And I can tell you your life is going to be infinitely better here than with some random strangers who may not care about you at all. I don't want to scare you, but I've heard horror stories about the foster system. Trust me when I say it is not your best choice."

I'm equal parts impressed and appalled by Todd's words because they are designed to scare her. They clearly have an impact because Sylvie's expression reveals she is mulling over his words.

Todd takes her hand and pats it. "Remember… the judge said he would reevaluate things in two months. He said he would take your wishes into consideration and if you want this judge to take you seriously, you have got to give this a shot. You have got to show him you tried. You have to give your father a chance."

"He's not my father."

It shouldn't hurt me to hear her say that, but it twinges. Yet I understand her for some weird reason and I hold no animosity for her denial.

"He is your father by law." And then Todd says no more. He leaves that hanging there along with all his other advice he'd just imparted to this little girl and leaves it up to her to make her choice.

Sylvie withdraws her hand from the attorney's grasp and to my shock, moves to me. Right past me without a glance and never looking backward to say goodbye to her grandparents, although she does call out, "Don't do anything to my room. I'll be back in a few months."

And with that, Sylvie marches up the steps and through the open door into the house.

My head swivels back to where Sylvie just disappeared to Todd and back to the house again. Todd stands, garnering my attention again, and we both watch as, without a word, Lionel and Rosemund get back in their vehicle and pull away.

Todd turns to me. "Would you like me to talk to her some more?"

I rub a hand over my stubbled jaw in consternation. I hadn't bothered to shave this morning because I didn't have a judge to impress, but I'm wondering if I should've made more of an effort where my daughter is concerned. As of now, she doesn't think much of me at all.

"No. I think I need to handle this on my own."

We shake hands and after Todd leaves, I bend down to pick up Sylvie's suitcase. I turn toward my house with a sigh.

As the eldest Blackburn child, I've faced many adversities over my lifetime. For years, I've been working upward of eighty hours a week. I brush off stress and pressure like it's annoying lint on my shoulder. And at this moment, I'm not sure I've faced anything more daunting.

But I'm a Blackburn, so I draw my shoulders back and march up the porch steps into the house and to my daughter.

I find Sylvie standing in the foyer, her head tilted and looking up the staircase. She doesn't move or flinch when I shut the door. Setting the suitcase down, I move around her so I'm in her line of vision. She refuses to return my gaze, instead turning toward the formal sitting room, looking through the open pocket doors. "Why is everything so old?"

While I'll always think her French accent is beautiful, I also recognize the fight within her tone. The need for her to denigrate because she doesn't want to accept any of this.

I brush past her and into the sitting room, assuming she will follow. I'm not going to command her the way Lionel did because I want her to have some control. She comes in behind me and I'm pleased, sweeping my arm out to indicate the plethora of antique furnishings and artwork. "I'm surprised to hear you belittle history. You lived in a very old country, far older than the United States. I assume you were surrounded by many things that were old and had historical significance. Surely, you've seen many buildings that were built hundreds and hundreds of years ago. By those standards, my home is quite new."

"Lionel and Rosemund's house is very contemporary and modern. I prefer it."

Touché, little girl.

I move to the mantel and point to the oil portrait above it. "This is your great-great-great-great-grandfather, Robert Blackburn. He built this house."

"He looks mean," Sylvie says as she studies the painting.

I smile. "If only half the stories I've heard about him are true, he was not the warmest of men. Very dour in nature. Took his job seriously. But he loved his family."

Sylvie doesn't reply, but instead starts to pace around the room, looking anywhere but at me.

"Would you like to see your bedroom? We didn't have a lot of time to get it ready, but my mother—your grandmother—bought new bedding and curtains. Of course, if you don't like them, we can get you something else."

"It won't make a difference. I won't be here long."

"Well, I hope to change your mind. Hope you'll at least give me a chance."

Sylvie wheels around. "I'll give you nothing. The Blackburns deserve nothing."

I shoot up a prayer for patience. My tone is soft but chastising. "I see someone has been filling your head with lies."

"Nous ne sommes pas une famille de menteurs."

Frowning, I ask, "What did you just say?"

I get an overly sweet, completely fake smile. "I said I'd like to see my room now."

It's a lie and I know it. I'd bet money that she just cursed me in French. I'll let it go though, and know that for the foreseeable future, I'll probably have to let a lot of things go as Sylvie settles in.