"All right." I took a deep, ragged breath that seared my lungs. "So now the word is out, and the press is making a big deal out of it. Must be a slow news day. We're going to have to counter with a statement. I take it you know who my parents are?"
Silence. I looked at Mum. Then at Howard. Neither would meet my gaze.
"So you do know," I said. "You just don't want me knowing, because I might contact them. Well, clearly the press knows so you're going to have to--"
"That's not it," Mum said. "Neither your father nor I had any idea who your biological parents were when we adopted you. I only found out tonight. According to Howard"--she shot a look his way--"your father learned the truth two years ago. He decided to keep it from both of us."
"He paid a great deal to keep it from you," Howard added.
Mum nodded, and they looked at me expectantly, as if I should be grateful for this, when all I could think was, My dad paid blackmail money to hide something from me. My father. Who'd never coddled me. Never shielded me from the darker side of life. I'd loved him for that. Pay blackmailers? No, that wasn't possible. Not from a man who would thunder and lecture me when I argued for leniency dealing with young shoplifters at the store.
"I ... don't understand," I said finally.
Howard answered. "Your father was the victim of a blackmailer who now seems to have realized he could get more money selling his story to the online tabloids."
More money than he could get from my wealthy family? How big of a story was it?
I swallowed. "Who are my birth parents?"
Howard watched my mother for a moment, silently pleading with her to answer. When she didn't, he cleared his throat. "Pamela and Todd Larsen. The names will likely mean nothing to you--"
"I know who they are." The words came as a whisper, forced out past lungs that seemed to have collapsed, like I'd been hit in the chest with a five iron.
"Did you say...?" Howard began.
"I know who they are. Everyone knows who they are."
Deep breaths. In and out. Don't think. Just breathe.
I shifted my gaze to my mother. She looked away.
She looked away.
Oh God. My own mother couldn't bear to look at me.
"So it's...?" I shook my head and turned to Howard. "No, that's who they're alleging are my parents. It's a rumor. It has to be proven. I need to submit DNA and compare it to the records of these ... people."
Howard shook his head. "Do you think your father didn't demand proof when this was first brought to him? The blackmailer provided test results and it wasn't enough. Your father took hair from your brush and had an independent lab test your DNA against the Larsens' DNA from their samples taken as evidence in their trial. There is no doubt. They are your biological parents."
"It means nothing, Olivia," my mother sniffed. "You are our daughter. Not theirs."
Not Pamela and Todd Larsen's. Not the child of ... Oh God. My stomach heaved.
"I ... I need a minute," I said and ran from the room.
Chapter Five
The names will likely mean nothing to you.
Right. No one living in the Midwest hadn't heard of Pamela and Todd Larsen.
Husband and wife. Serial killers.
I was the daughter of two sociopaths.
I stared at my laptop. I knew who the Larsens were, but not a lot about them. I should look it up.
For what?