The Grave Shadows

29. Sister

Will hurled Everett onto the grand foyer table. His leather shoes crunched pieces of porcelain onto the rug, and the mushy petals glued to Everett's arms. The sticky fluid could have been rose juice or blood.

Everett crashed on a canapé next to the staircase, and Simon smacked his head hard enough for a blowback. Knowing he deserved a little pounding, he smirked and relaxed against the velvety upholstery.

"What did you do?" Simon grunted, his fist ready for another swing. "If you touched her, I swear to God, I'd—"

Touched? Everett snorted. Cyan's face was on his bare chest this morning and her lips on his mouth the other night. Simon should get his standard checked. Could the sweet face genuinely think Cyan would ever end up with a contemptible trouble like him?

"Why did you spend the night?" Will's tone was calmer than Simon's, and that meant he was angrier. "I knew I couldn't trust you." His clean hands only worked when he needed the job done right. This version of Bill Watts's third son would savagely cut throat as the father did.

Everett sat straight. "When you jealous cows calm down, I'll continue." He wondered if his brothers would simply snap out of the childish competition when they knew that Cyan and he had shared a bed.

While Everett delivered a report, Simon scrutinized the pictures of Cyan's treasure. "Good Lord!" He threw the phone back at Everett. "I think I know what Father's agenda is." His eyes blazed.

"What?" Luke asked as Simon took center stage.

"I can't believe that I haven't thought of it before," Simon mumbled. "Good God, Mary, why didn't you say something?"

Will hardened his eyes.

"December 3, 1957." Simon strolled about the room and figured something in his head. "Yes, Burnett Hospital in Mayville, Massachusetts." He winked at himself in a gold-framed mirror on the wall. "Of course, everything fits perfectly now."

"For God's sake! What the hell are you rambling about?" Luke blocked Simon's aimless path.

"Remember Charles?" Simon asked.

"Charles." Luke twisted his brows and turned to Everett. "Andover?" He crossed his arms and glowered at Simon. "What about him?"

"Mary and Charles were born on December 3, 1957, too," Simon said.

The Watts boys suddenly realized the obvious fact—Mary, Charles, and Nikolai Welshman shared the same birthday.

"My mother was from Seattle," Everett stated, sensing Simon's noxious implication.

"But she was born in Mayville, Massachusetts. Think of the time and place, boys. That can't be a coincidence." Simon drifted back to the mirror again, but this time, his beauty crashed. "I managed the will." His voice trembled.

Last year, Simon slept in the dean's office. He told people that he was working on some documents, but without piano music, the Watts Mansion saddened him.

"What are you getting at?" Everett screwed up his face.

"I think Cyan Cooper is your cousin." Simon sneered.

"What?" Will, Luke, and Everett cried out in unison.

"You're crazy." Everett scoffed, the absurd theory making him want to puke.

"Think about it." Simon curled his fingers in Luke's hair, and Luke ducked away, huffing. "Nikolai Welshman, Charles, and Mary. That math isn't hard. Someone might have messed up the order. They were in the same hospital, hmm? I mean... it could happen. Remember, we always mused on why Mary and Charles looked so different and seemed distant despite them sharing the same womb. Cyan could be your cousin." He gazed at Everett and Luke. "Father knew. He won't be so damn nice to just anybody."