I don’t know what to say to that, so I say nothing, watching her under a sad veil as she stares out the window. After a couple minutes, she shakes off her melancholy, fixing me with a feeble smile. “We don’t want to get sidetracked. I can’t stay out too late, or he’ll send someone to look for me. What else did you want to know?”
“How did my father come to be in Rydeville? Because I know he’s not from here.”
“Your father’s adopted family moved into the area when we were fifteen.”
“My father is adopted?”
“You didn’t know?”
“He rarely talks to us, unless he wants something from us, and he never talks about his past. All I know is, his parents died in a plane crash when he was twenty-two.”
“Your father was born to a junkie mother and her pimp. His mother overdosed when he was six weeks old and his father didn’t want him, so he ended up a ward of the state,” she explains. “He was in an orphanage for the first three years of his life when the Hearst family adopted him. They lived over on the West Coast someplace before Mr. Hearst’s business interests brought him to Rydeville. They were from new money, and it was unusual for the elite to mix with new money, but your father is very charming, and he wormed his way into our circle at school.”
I listen attentively, not wanting to miss anything.
“It was obvious he had set his sights on your mother, but Olivia was hopelessly in love with Atticus.”
I guess there’s no accounting for taste.
“If that’s the case, how did my father charm her?”
“He didn’t.” Her eyes cloud over. “He manipulated the situation after his many attempts to woo her right out from under his best friend’s nose failed. Your mother told Atticus what Michael was up to, but Atticus was an arrogant son of a bitch, and he gloated over the fact his friend was trying to steal his girl. He was secure in Olivia’s love, and he thought that made them infallible. His arrogance was his downfall because it meant Michael got desperate.”
“Why did he want Mom so badly?”
“Well, not only was she beautiful, smart, and kind, but she was the only girl from a founding family. Every guy at school wanted her, but she’d fallen for Atticus when she was thirteen, and her heart was always his.” She pours more whiskey into her mug. “Anyway, Mr. Hearst Senior lost his business and his wealth, and it became a more urgent concern for Michael, so he planned things so Olivia would have no choice but to marry him.”
“What did the bastard do?”
“It was senior year, and Christian, Atticus, and Charles were away on a football trip. Michael wasn’t a good football player, and he never made the team, much to his disgust.”
I can imagine that being a sore point for my father, because he likes to believe he’s the best at everything and he hates losing to anyone, especially the other elite. He thinks he’s so above everyone, and it’s fascinating to learn he was at the bottom of the rung until his marriage elevated his fortune.
“We had planned a girls’ night at my house. Michael showed up, persuading us to attend a college party with him. Your mother didn’t want to go, but Emma and I were champing at the bit. We were both single, so we were keen to meet some older, college guys.”
She chugs back more whiskey. “He drugged us and photographed us having sex with different guys.” My stomach flips, and my mouth turns dry. “He didn’t pimp Olivia out. He fucked her, without a condom, all night long and had someone photograph it. Things were different back then, and Olivia wasn’t on birth control, because she was a virgin. It was a condition of the marriage agreement between her father and Atticus’s father, and even though they were crazy about one another, Atticus respected her decision to wait for their wedding night. Or so I thought, because that’s what Olivia had always told us.”
She slumps in her chair a little as my cell pings with a message from Drew, checking in with me. I tell him I’m fine and slip my cell back in my pocket, reaching out to take the flask from Sylvia’s hand. “You need to drive home, and I won’t have your death on my conscience.”
“Death would be welcome at this point.” Her tone is flat.
“Don’t say that.” I put the flask back in her purse, slanting a warning look at her.
She sighs, knotting her hands on her lap. “Michael sent the photographs to Atticus, and Atticus went ballistic. Then he found out she was pregnant with Michael’s child, and in a fit of rage, he told his father, and his father immediately called off the wedding and informed Mr. Manning. Per the stupid elite traditions, it now meant Olivia had to marry the father of her baby, and Michael got his way.”
“I don’t understand something.” My brows knit together. “Why didn’t she tell her father she was drugged and raped?”
Her eyes drop. “Michael blackmailed her into keeping silent by using her loyalty to us. He told her he’d send our parents the photos of us having group sex with different men. It would ruin our reputations, and our parents would most likely have disowned us.”
“But you were drugged and gang raped!” I protest, absolutely sickened.
“It wouldn’t have mattered.” She looks sad. “Your mother said nothing to protect us.”
“I hate him. He’s an evil, sick bastard, and he’s got to be stopped!” I hiss, digging my nails into my thighs. I want to scream from the pit of my lungs.
“He’s unstoppable. They all are.”
Her voice is thick with resignation, but I refuse to believe it, because then it means we’re doomed, and I’m not accepting that.
“Your mother was forced to marry Michael almost immediately, and it wasn’t a happy marriage.” Sylvia confirms what Drew and I have always known. “Once he had her, he stopped all pretense. He screwed around on her. He abused her—physically, verbally, and emotionally—and made her life hell. She wanted to hurt him, and she naively thought if he knew the baby wasn’t his that he’d let her go, but he beat her to within an inch of her life, causing her to lose the baby and her sanity. She almost died giving birth, and there were complications which meant she suffered through a succession of difficult pregnancies and miscarriages in the years that followed.”
She shifts on her chair, worrying her lip between her teeth, contemplating something.
“Whatever it is, I want to know.”
She palms my face. “Your mother was a broken shell for years. Every miscarriage tore another little strip off her heart. She wanted to be a Mom so badly because it was all she had left. Plus, Michael wouldn’t leave her alone until she gave him an heir. Every time she miscarried, he punished her, as if it was her fault.” She visibly shivers, and my chest tightens at the thought of how he punished her.
Anger resurfaces and my determination strengthens.
“It didn’t help that Atticus had married Emma by then and they’d had Maverick. Your mother sunk into a deep depression, and I think even Michael worried that she was past the point of no return, so he found a solution. A way to give him his heir and her the babies she so desperately longed for.”
“What are you saying?”
“Your mother conceived you and Drew through IVF and via a surrogate.”