“Then you would be unwise.” She tossed another paper into the fire, sparks puffing up into the chimney.
“You can’t erase me.”
“I should have. A long time ago.” She sighed. “This is what I get. No good deed goes unpunished, dearest Petre.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Of course you don’t.” She laughed, looking over at me in disbelief. “You know, I thought I did you a favor putting you in the spotlight. All you ever wanted wasattention.”
“You didn’t have to put that in the papers.” My lip trembled. “I don’t even remember those photographs—”
“You loved to pose for them,” she interrupted. “The publicity is more than you deserve. Pity. I told your father it was a waste of resources.”
“What do you mean?” I closed the space between us.
She plucked another photo, her eyes flicking over it before turning it toward me. “Pretty thing, wasn’t she?”
I took the photo, my hand shaking.
The photo was of a blond maid, her face smudged, smock dirty, yet the linens she was hanging were clean.
“She really was a dear,” my mother said wistfully, plucking the photo back and tossed it into the fire, along with a couple more crumpled papers. “She was a good maid, almost as talented at pretending to be a friend. She was even better at opening her legs.”
I winced at her words. They felt personal, like I’d walked in at a bad time.
“I tried to keep you as my own, I really did, but there was just too much of her fire left over.”
“Isthatwhy you neglected me?” I hissed, grabbing her wrist before she could toss another photo into the fire. “Youtorturedme. And now you tell me about a mother I’ve never known? I don’t know how else I should react to the fact you stole my childhood, myrealfamily, my middle years, and you planned to take advantage of the rest too, didn’t you?”
“I wentaboveandbeyondfor you, you sickly harlot!” she shouted, spit flying as she snapped her wrist from my grip.
“You’ve cursed me with such an affliction, an unholy appetite I can’t control.” I took a deep, steady breath. “You made me sleep outside with the dogs!”
“You were constantly sick. I couldn’t let you sleep next to my children,” she scoffed. “One day, you will understand. You can’t let the cuckoo lay her brood with another. I would have thrown you out sooner if she hadn’t survived as long as she did.”
I shook my head, the tears in my eyes mixed with the rainwater dripping down my face. “I ate with the dogs too.”
“How spoiled. You’re lucky I fed you at all. It was good meat—”
“Was it?” I whispered. “Because I have a sneaking suspicion that I would not suffer from my affliction if you’d just helped me—”
“We did. Wedidhelp you. And how do you repay us? You should have listened and gone with Vincent. I suppose it is ironic to say he would have taken your secret to the grave.” She laughed.
“What a cruel thing to do to a child,” I scoffed, “all because you couldn’t bear that Father would stick it into anything but you?”
“You’re an ungratefulbastardchild!”
“Is that what I did to deserve this curse? Punished for the sins of my father?”
“You deserveworse!” she said. “The curse of the flesh is to be consumed. Your mother was a slave to it, so it was only fitting you suffer the same.”
I stared at her for a while, configuring the odd words in my mind. “What did you do to her?”
She smiled, her hands resting in her lap. A pitiful expression. “Darling, I know Vincent has been dead for a moment, but notthatlong. Did you already forget why he was on our books?”
“The donations to his reelection?”
“Yes, the campaign.” She spoke pointedly, like she was leading a lecture. “Do you remember what his job was?”
