The Reaper (The Assassin Series Book #2)

It was silent all except for the rain pelting the windows. William stared at me, almost unbelievingly. He seemed speechless. That was answer enough for me. My eyes began to fill with tears. I was staring at the man I recognized was my father for the very first time. All the other times, he was my boss. He wasn't just my boss, though.

I saw him swallow hard before finally speaking in a quiet voice, "How did you figure it out?"

"I met a retired Reaper named Undertaker at the library. He was returning Cinematic Records, and yours was in his pile. He said that you were also a Reaper, but under a different name, so he let me read where it said who you were," I explained.

"You read my Cinematic Record?" he demanded angrily.

"Oh, don't you start that with me. I read a few pages, you watched my entire life," I snapped.

Once Roger had awoken as a Reaper, he had been forced to pick a job right out of the gate, as was I. When told of the benefits, he chose the Dispatch Management Division. He thought he would get to see his daughter, who he assumed was still alive, that way.

The only fault was that he was told he could never see his loved ones again, or he would be given some form of punishment. He did not know what that included, so, being the bright man he was, thought that changing his name would help his case. That way, no one would know he was related to his daughter, since they would have different last names.

He asked to do so with the reason of hating his real name, which wasn't necessarily a lie. He never liked the name Roger. Out of love for his daughter, who was named Willow, he chose William, since it was very similar. He thought that would also diminish the prospect of her being his daughter if he were ever caught. Why would anyone chose such a close name for their son or daughter? He kept his middle name, Thomas, since he had no problem with it. He only referred to himself as William T. Spears, though. He never said his middle name. His last name, Spears, had been random.

He sighed, tired of hearing me bring up the subject, "By accident."

I argued, "It doesn't matter."

"I suppose I should have thought about the possibility of you finding something in the library. It's really my fault," he admitted.

There was another moment of silence before I said, "They held a funeral, you know. For both of you. They had to have your body."

"It was a closed casket. My body, as you know, had to be removed from the scene. Scotland Yard figured that my caracas had been taken and dumped somewhere, and never found it," he explained.

"Then, did your plan work? Did you ever come to see me?" I asked.

Will explained, "I spaced it out so that it was every three months. That way, no one would realize anything strange. Once you joined the Phantomhive Household, I had to stop my visits to conceal my true identity."

I interrogated, "And you saw me killing? And that I was given up for adoption not soon after your deaths? That I was working for the man behind your murder?"