Kyle blinked, his expression blank as a fresh sheet of parchment. "I don't follow, Olivia. The morning air must be messing with your head. We've known this since we were children."
Olivia let out a frustrated growl, shoving him slightly. "Focus, you idiot! Does waking up early make your brain stop working, or what? I'm not talking about our legal titles."
She leaned in, her eyes sharp as needles. "I'm saying we share the same father. And the same mother. I mean we share the same blood, Kyle. Every single drop."
Kyle froze, the playful light in his eyes dying instantly. "What are you talking about? You're the daughter of that bastard, Roland Theron. No offense—your father was a piece of work—but everyone knows—"
"I'm the fool for even trying to tell you," Olivia hissed under her breath, rubbing her temples as if a migraine were blooming there.
