“Finish telling me about Mamá,” I said. “What happened after she betrayed you?”
Papá studied me, and I could tell his mind was working furiously. “I know you’ve questioned our decision to never bring you with us to Egypt. Throughout the years, you would beg, cry, rage at us to let you come along.”
“I remember.”
“It was your mother’s idea to never let you come with us, and I went along with it, because, well, I understood her reasoning. I gather you would have made up some reason for why she wanted you to remain inArgentina?” He unfolded his arms and leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees. I was struck by our similarities, the way our hair curled wildly, our inquisitive and curious natures. An ache bloomed in my heart, tearing it wide open.
A yawning wound I knew would never heal properly.
“Inez?”
I shook my head, tried to clear my thoughts. “Mamá felt it was too dangerous,” I guessed.
Papá nodded. “Yes. We’ve acquired many enemies during our joint venture. But that wasn’t the main reason. Or to put it differently, we each had our secret reason for why we didn’t want you to come to Egypt. Your mother didn’t want you to see who she really was—an adulteress, a thief. She wanted you to have the idea she had shaped of herself, perfect in every way. A real lady.” His tone had turned caustic. “Respectable, admired.”
“And your reason?”
Papá smiled. “That will come later. But suffice it to say, it all hinges on what you do next.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I don’t need you to right now,” he said. “What I do want you to understand is that your mother tried to destroy me. And so I retaliated, hurting her where she’s most vulnerable by doing the worst thing I could think of.”
“What was that?”
“I made sure you would come to Egypt.”
There was a knock on the door.
Without looking away from my face, Papá said, “Enter.”
Mr. Graves peered around the door. “It’s time. Everything is set up.”
“Is she there?” Papá said, his dark eyes still trained on mine.
“They both are.”
Papá stood up and extended his hand toward me. “It’s time to go, Inez.”
“I don’t want any part of this… this war between you and Mamá. I gave you what you wanted. Now you must honor our terms and send her to Cairo so—”
“There is no honor among thieves,” he said. “You are coming with me, hijita.”
Mr. Graves came forward, a pistol in his hand.
“You would shoot your own daughter?” I whispered. I couldn’t believe that he would actually do something so horrific.
Papá looked me over, studying the lines and curves of my face. “I raised you as my own. But ever since I found out about the affair, my plans for you have shifted. Your mother is a whore, and I don’t believe Mr. Fincastle was her first paramour.”
“No,” I whispered. “You don’t think…”
“I’d be a fool not to ask the question,” Papá said gravely. “Whose daughter are you? Mine or someone else’s? You very well could be my own child. My own blood.” Then his face hardened; deep lines flared outward from the corners of his eyes. “But you might also not be.” He flicked his head toward the door, and then motioned for me to get up. I obeyed in a kind of daze. “Either way, why don’t we go ask your mother?”
I felt as if I’d been dealt a mortal blow, but somehow, I was still expected to walk and talk and take orders. I was still expected to breathe after he casually stated that I might not be his flesh and blood. Yes, I mostly favored my mother in my looks, but I never questioned whether I was his child. We both loved reading Shakespeare, getting lost in stories, or learning about the past.
It couldn’t be true that I wasn’t his daughter.
But even if it was, would he murder a child he’d raised?
