Wind stirred the branches overhead. Dappled shadows danced across her name.
"Things have changed." My fingers traced the fading marks on my thigh, hidden beneath expensive fabric. "He knows everything now. What I did to you. What I kept from him."
Another pause.
"He hasn't forgiven me. He may never forgive me." My voice cracked. Here, there was no need to hide it. "But he's let me stay. Let me kneel. Let me be his, even if it's not the way I imagined."I swallowed. "He said he wants my submission, but not my guilt. That I don't get to use penance as an excuse to disappear into service." I exhaled roughly. "I'm still trying to understand what that means."
My hand trembled against the stone. For so long, I'd hidden behind rationales about business necessities. Protecting Algerone's focus. Building the empire. But here, with only the dead to witness, the ugliest truth demanded naming.
"I was jealous. Not just of his attention. Of the possibility of you. Of what you represented that I could never be." My jaw tightened. "I told myself I was protecting what we were building. But I was afraid of losing my place. My purpose."
A tear slid down my cheek. I wiped it away roughly. Tears were inefficient. They solved nothing.
"Your children should have had their father. You should have had your chance. Instead, you had me. The errand boy who decided your fate because he couldn't bear the thought of sharing what was never his."
I traced the carved letters of her name.
"Your children..." Something caught in my throat. "Xavier protected the prototype with security measures beyond anything I could have imagined. You'd be proud. Algerone is, though he'd never say it directly."
A swell of pride rose in my chest. Stupid. These weren't my children to claim. I pressed my palm against the cool stone.
"And Xion." I sighed. "He wants nothing to do with any of us. Can't say I blame him. Sometimes I think he's the smartest of all of them."
My fingers traced the date of her death. "And Xander." A small smile formed despite everything. "They share your love of theatrics. Would have made a fine actor in another life. Their wardrobe costs a fortune. Designer pieces in the most provocative combinations. Never subtle. Always a statement."I adjusted a lily stem that had shifted. "You would have approved."
I shifted position. Damp ground seeped cold through my pants.
"I still remember that hotel room. Cigarette smoke embedded in the wallpaper. The rattling air conditioner cycled every few minutes." I swallowed. "The hope in your eyes when you opened the door. The way it died when you realized Algerone hadn't come himself."
Wind stirred the lilies. Their perfume overwhelmed the scent of wet grass.
"'He sent his errand boy instead.'" I quoted softly. "That's what you called me."
My fingertip traced the curves of her name. "You were clutching their photo. Three tiny bundles in hospital blankets. Your nails bitten down to the quick. Purple polish chipping off." Details I'd replayed countless times, searching for the moment I could have chosen differently. "I should have recognized the signs. Your eyes darted to corners where nothing stood. But I was too focused on the mission."
"I told you he had no interest in being a father." My voice dropped. "That was a lie. If I'd given him the opportunity, he'd have loved it."
The Algerone of back then would have dropped everything for those children. I knew it even as I lied to myself. He would have embraced fatherhood completely. I made the decision for him because I couldn't bear to lose what we were creating. I couldn't bear to lose him to a family I wouldn't be part of.
"I didn't choose the kindest path. I chose the one that left him free. I'd be lying if I said I wouldn't choose it again."
That was the truth that brought me to my knees each month. Not just that I'd driven her to take her own life, but that Icouldn't bring myself to truly regret the choice that had led me here.
"You slit your wrists in that bathtub while your children were with Annie. And I got what I wanted. Not because of your death, but through it." I pressed my palm flat against the granite. "That's a debt no grave can swallow."
I traced her name one last time. My confession was complete, with no absolution coming.
The air carried the scent of wet grass and earth, clean and alive against the backdrop of death. Guilt lay metallic on my tongue.
A subtle shift in the quiet caught my attention—a whisper against wet grass that wasn't wind or birds.
"What the FUCK are YOU doing here?"
I twisted to look over my shoulder. Pain shot through my knees as I moved. I kept my hands in plain sight and stood, facing the voice.
Xander Laskin stood ten feet away in a pair of studded leather pants and black eyeliner. He clenched his fists so tight the knuckles turned white. The small bouquet of wildflowers in their hands fell to the ground.
"Xander." My voice rasped.
