"You've already guessed that I'm not Spencer's brother or related to Madam Collins," Adam said slowly.
Melanie's fingers tightened around the towel in her hand. She had expected him to dodge the questions, to brush her off. But suddenly, he was talking. Just when she had been thinking about what to say to break the tension!
Adam stood and walked to the window, restless now and she could only watch as he stood by it, looking outside.
She didn't move. Didn't speak. Afraid that if she did, he might stop. And she wanted to know. So, she waited.
After a long pause, he finally continued, "But I am a Collins. Not just by name—but by blood. I am Lady Collins' grandson."
Melanie's eyes widened as she tried to speculate. Could it be like a dramatic plot that he was the son of Spencer's father's and his lover. But immediately she shook off the head. If there was it still did not explain Sir Robert's partiality against Adam.
"It's a long story," Adam said slowly, his voice tinged with melancholy. "It begins with my grandmother and the man she loved—Sir Albert Collins."
He exhaled before continuing. "Back then, the country was in turmoil. Albert, the younger son—the 'spare'—was to be sent off to war. But before he could leave, he eloped with the woman he loved, marrying her in a quiet church ceremony. That woman was Lady Collins."
A pause. "Not long after Albert left, my grandmother discovered she was pregnant. She believed the Collins family would take her in, not just for her sake but for the child she carried—their bloodline. And they did. But not out of kindness or duty.
Her dowry was substantial, and they wasted no time securing it under the guise of offering her a home. She clung to hope, waiting for Albert's letters, praying for his safe return. But before she could give birth, devastating news arrived—Albert Collins had died in the war.
And just like that, everything fell apart.
There was no proof of their marriage—no records, no witnesses beyond the priest who had married them. Worse, the Collins family had already squandered her dowry. Without Albert, she was nothing more than a burden to them.
Before she could bring her child into the world, they made their decision: she would be cast out.
It was then that Sir Robert Collins, Albert's elder brother, stepped forward. He claimed he wanted to protect his brother's child and the woman Albert had loved. He offered marriage—a way to secure her future and give the child a name. Desperate and with nowhere to turn, she accepted.
But when the child was born, her world shattered again.
She was told the baby had died.
Sir Robert, with his kind words and gentle reassurances, guided her through the grief. In time, they built a life together, even starting a family of their own. And slowly, she allowed herself to heal.
Until the truth surfaced.
Albert had not died—not then, not in battle. He had been gravely injured, left disabled, and sent home. But by the time he returned, it was too late.
His wife was married to his brother.
And worse—Robert had taken his child.
Albert came home to find his son in Robert's arms and the woman he had loved bound to another man. And then came Robert's final betrayal.
'She has moved on,' he told Albert. 'She loves me now. There's no place for you here.'
Believing the lie, Albert took his newborn son and disappeared, making it all the easier for Robert to bury the past.
For decades, the truth remained hidden. By the time it finally came to light, Albert was long gone. His son—Albert Jr.—lay on his deathbed, ravaged by illness, with no one left to care for his own child.
And in the end, the person he had hated all his life—the mother he believed had abandoned him—was the one he turned to.
That was how the truth finally emerged. Nearly thirty years too late."
Adam turned to her then and sighed," This is how, I came to be a part of the Collins' family. When my grandmother discovered the truth, she was ready to break off all ties with Robert Collins. But Sir Robert Collins really did love her. And of course, she had also loved him so as a compromise, she brought me to her son's home."
"And to preserve Sir Robert's dignity, everyone was told that Madam Collins had wanted to adopt the child of a distant relative."
"However, despite apparently forgiving Sir Collins, grandmother was now wary of him and she took me under her wing and made sure that I knew the truth."
Adam turned to look at her then and Melanie stilled. Suddenly she had a premonition that whatever he was going to tell her was somehow going to be worst.
He exhaled slowly. "But even so, Sir Robert still found a way to ruin me."
"How?" she asked carefully, her voice barely above a whisper.
Adam gave a derisive smirk then, and explained, "If I learnt anything from Robert Collins, it is patience. Robert Collins is a patient man. He has never moved against me outright, never did anything that could be traced back to him. Instead, he let the world do his work for him. He surrounded me with the wrong people—friends who weren't friends, mentors who would me astray, opportunities that seemed like gifts but were carefully laid traps."
"He wanted you to fail." Melanie spoke with dawning realisation.
Adam nodded. "More than that. He wanted me to be just like the people he surrounded me with—reckless, foolish, weak. He ensured I was constantly in the company of spoilt and pampered brats who would gamble away fortunes, who indulged in vices that led them nowhere."
"At first, I didn't see it. I was young and eager to belong. Though I never indulged because I was scared of grandmother, I did not mind acting like I did. They welcomed me, flattered me, drew me into their world with open arms. And for a while, I thought they were my friends."
"It wasn't until I lost everything that I realized I had nothing. Every so-called friend vanished in an instant. But by then, it was too late for me too."