Her lips quivered as though suppressing tension. “There’s been a lot to do. Your father and I worked relentlessly to get you home.”
“You never called the police?”
“Cassius threatened that if we did . . .” She delivered the rest with a pained expression.
Don’t go there.
Don’t do this now.
Don’t risk it.
Yet, the questions burned bright. I couldn’t go on pretending the distance between us hadn’t always been there. Maybe some part of me wanted to believe these people really did love me and wanted to deny they were masters at gaslighting, spewing lies, twisting reality, and wearing me down.
A sob caught in my throat. “Why didn’t you take my hand?”
The corner of her lip twitched. “At Mardi Gras?”
Yes, at fucking Mardi Gras.
Back when I’d wanted to be saved and believed what was ahead of me with her was safer than the man waiting for me in the crowd.
Not forgetting all I knew about Cassius was crucial. Holding those threads of truth that threatened to fade. Wiped out if these two had anything to do with it.
She gave a dramatic sigh. “I thought if I took your hand, he was going to shoot you in the back.”
Ice surged through my veins.
Because that could have been the plan all along, and maybe, just maybe, I’d not seen it because of the turmoil of every passing second.
Her tears welled, and she was overcome with emotion. “Letting you go was the only way to save you.”
Bringing myself back from the brink, I whispered, “You did the right thing.”
She swiped a tear. “I was confused and scared. If anything happened to you, I would have been the one to blame.”
Hugging her again, I wrapped my arms around her and tried to comfort her.
“Are you sure he didn’t touch you?” she said coldly.
Shaking my head, I didn’t look at her. I tried to hide my eyes that might reveal how much I loved that man and how much I missed him. Giving him up and coming back here had been the hardest thing I’d ever done.
“Why did he take me?” I looked up at her now, wanting to see the lies spinning behind her façade.
“Why does any man do such a thing? For money, of course.”
“He has money.”
“Well, that may be true, but he wanted your father’s gold.”
“He took me, too.”
“Let me get you something to eat.”
“I’m not hungry.” I followed her across the kitchen, annoyed at her fussing, the way she opened the fridge and peered in as though trying to keep busy.
“When will Archie be home?”
“He’s not as strong as you.” She let that sit as an excuse.
“Mom?” I laid the word down as an accusation. The what the hell are you not telling me kind.
She shut the fridge door. Her head bowed, eyes down.
“What?” Dread circled my feet as though the ground might open and swallow me whole.
“We can play these games, sweetheart,” she said coldly. “Or we can be honest with each other.”
Swallowing, I waited for her to continue.
“We saw you with him at Mardi Gras.” Her hand snapped up to silence me. “After your father retaliated.”
Cold slithered up my spine as she faced me.
“You were observed running away. Disappearing into the crowd with him. You went willingly.”
“You pulled your hand away,” I said bitterly.
“I’ve already told you—”
“Am I allowed to leave this house now?”
“The risk is even greater.”
“You can’t keep me a prisoner anymore.”
“How dare you!”
“I won’t go back to living like that.”
“Like what? Like a princess? Given everything you could possibly need? Toys, games, clothes.”
“You never let us out of the house.”
“I’m sorry we couldn’t protect you from that monster. God knows we tried.”
“Let me speak to Archie.” I held out my hand. “Call him. Get him on the line.”
“We know, darling.” She smirked. “And we know you know.”
“About?”
“What your father does for a living.”
A chill washed over me, my flesh crawling with dread. Maybe she was bluffing. It was hard to tell with her.
“I don’t care about any of that,” I managed.
She stepped forward. “And the last thing we want is you sharing that knowledge with anyone else.”
“I would never . . .”
“Archie shared with us a small detail about you both. That you know you’re adopted.”
And he’d been rewarded with a black and blue eye for it.
“You never told us,” I muttered. “Why?”
“To protect you.”
“How many times did I tell you I had memories of a different time? Of snow. Of a building that was the Kremlin, for God’s sake. You told me I’d dreamed it.”
“I never wanted you to feel we didn’t love you.”
“Where are my real parents?”
“Dead.”
“Dead?”
My heart squeezed for the loss even though I’d never known them. All those ruminations about getting to meet them, about finally being reunited with my family.
“Anya, I didn’t want this to be so raw. You’ve pushed my hand.”
My throat tightened at the way she’d delivered it so cruelly. My past wrapped up into a few words that meant nothing. Not to her, anyway. Not delivered with kindness, no stories of my birth mother and how she’d tried to do anything but give me up.
“What did you do to him?” I whispered it. “To Archie?”
She dragged in a deep breath. “Archie was fishing for clues. Did he tell you what he found?”
Oh, God.
“What did you do to him?”
“Daddy sat him down and encouraged him to share everything that was on his mind.”
They were fucking psychopaths.
Through gritted teeth, I said, “If you hurt him . . .”
“He’s my son. I love him.”
“But he’s not, is he?” This wave couldn’t be tamed. “I meant not your firstborn.”
“You don’t know the full story.”
“You mean about the other children? The ones before us.”
“We were heartbroken. We were wrong to try to use you to replace them.” She leaned on the kitchen counter. “Try to understand.”
“How did they die?”
“By Cassius’s hand.”
Horror stretched through me. “No, he didn’t.”
He wouldn’t.
“He got to you, sweetheart. I was scared he would. And he did. He made you believe all sorts of things. I can see that now.”
My legs buckled, but I didn’t want any help from her.
“When he saw that Stephen and I had built another life for ourselves with new, beautiful children, he wanted to rip that away from us too.”
“He was fourteen,” I said.
“And capable of so much cruelty.”
Hugging myself, I didn’t know who to believe anymore, didn’t know which way to turn, or what to do next.