"My mother's been dead seven days, and you couldn't wait to bring your mistress through the front door?!"
My father's expression hardened, utterly unrepentant.
"Your mother's gone—what, am I supposed to mourn her forever?!"
"Frederick's grown now. I can't let people keep calling him a bastard behind his back. This is my responsibility as a father!"
Responsibility.
I collapsed into the chair, a broken laugh tearing out of me. Tears spilled before I could stop them.
Frederick sidled up beside me, reaching for my hand with sickening familiarity.
"This is great, brother! Now we're officially family. I don't know all the rules of high society yet—you'll have to teach me, okay? I'd hate to embarrass myself."
"Sure." I met his eyes. "No problem."
Astrid and my father exchanged satisfied smiles.
I wiped my face dry. Lit a cigarette with one hand. Drew in a slow breath.
Then exhaled the smoke directly into Frederick's face.
"Here's your first lesson." My voice was ice. "I'm the legitimate son. You're the bastard. Until I speak to you first, you don't get to open your mouth in my presence."
I leaned closer, letting the cigarette glow between us.
"Understood?"