When I understand what she said, I frown, noticing she’s looking down. I follow her gaze and find it on my hand—on the blister pack of pills I’m still holding without realizing it. I drop it immediately.
“What kind of monster are you?” I ask, disgusted. “What kind of person is capable of doing something like this?” She scratches her throat with a dry laugh.
“So you’re not that smart after all. Or is this all an act, and you’re trying to see if you can strike a better deal by cutting out the middleman?”
“Stop the car,” I demand. “I really am stupid—but not for refusing your filthy threat. I’m stupid for getting into this car. I have nothing to say to you that can’t be said with your son by my side.” I spit the words, and Lysandra laughs when she hears them.
“I wonder—are you really that naïve?”
“Stop. The. Car.” I say through clenched teeth, my voice rising with each syllable as the vehicle keeps moving despite my protests.
“Do you really think, Nina, that you’re the first slip of Nero’s I’ve had to deal with?” she asks, and my body reacts immediately to her words. My heart stumbles over its own beats, my lungs refuse to keep working. My mouth goes dry and my palms tingle. “Do you really think you’re the first one of Nero’s to have a little chat with Doctor Kayrus? Because if you believe that, I’m surprised you lasted so long in my son’s bed. He usually chooses mediocre company—but not quite so completely imbecilic.” She scoffs, turning her face to the window for a moment.
“Did you even ask around?” Lysandra asks as she looks back at me. “Did you bother to find out how Nero usually behaves when it comes to women, or did you just jump into his bed? Eager for a lifetime allowance?” Confusion robs me of speech. I stare at Lysandra in silence while my brain struggles to absorb everything she’s throwing at me. “You don’t know my son,” she states. “Nero didn’t have many opportunities growing up, and knowing that, I couldn’t help spoiling him when he finally came to us. The result is a man who isn’t always willing to clean up his own mess.”
Nothing she says makes sense. I try, in every possible way, to find some logic in her words, but no matter how many times I run them through my head, they refuse to cohere on any level. I catch myself mourning the elegant woman seated beside me.
On the outside, beautiful. Unquestionably so. On the inside, however, so terribly rotten that I don’t think there’s any part of her left that can be saved.
Maybe, a few weeks ago, I would have chosen to stay silent, to leave her alone in her own misery. Maybe I would have let her pour all her delusions onto me until Lysandra felt better about her miserable existence—because back then, it wouldn’t have cost me anything.
Today, however, I know it could cost me everything. This woman was capable of manipulating my medical care. How far would she go if I simply lowered my head and pretended not to care? I would never put my baby at risk like that.
“I don’t know what kind of sick game you’re playing, Lysandra, but honestly, I don’t care—because I’m not playing it. Keep your lies to yourself and leave me alone.” She does nothing but sigh at my declaration. Nero’s mother looks at me with something close to pity in her eyes. “Nero made me part of his life. You need to accept that!”
“And what life was that he made you part of? Did he give you a tour of the exporting company? Take you on a handful of outings with the lackeys he pretends are his friends? Lock himself away with you in an empty apartment so he wouldn’t have to be seen walking down the street with you hanging off his arm? He didn’t even bother to furnish the place—didn’t you find that strange?” She rolls her eyes. “Honestly! He never formally introduced youto his father or to me. He never introduced you to his real friends—the ones Nero meets at clubs and events, the ones who matter. He never took you seriously.”
“He proposed to me!” I say, trying to make her see that there’s nothing she can do. No lie can erase the truth.
“And do you think you were the first?” she asks, smiling. Her eyes drop to the ring on my finger. My first instinct is to hide it, to keep her venomous gaze from tainting the beauty of everything the jewel represents. “Let me guess…” she says in a tone dripping with condescension as she pushes her loose hair back. “Some nonsense about how important that stone is to what your marriage will mean? Or did he use the classic line this time—that the ring is a family heirloom? Did he tell you it was mine? And before that, my mother’s? Oh, girl…”
Those are the words that shake me in a way I didn’t expect. A door, once firmly locked, is pried open by her insinuations, and my mind insists on asking,could it be?
My throat tightens and I shake my head, denying it. No. That’s what she wants. To confuse me. To make me question the unquestionable.
“You think all of this”—Nero’s mother lifts a finger and circles it in the air—“was my idea? You think this little private outing is a secret? Nero knows exactly what’s happening right now. You can call him if you want. And do you want to know why he proposed? Because he would never let a grasping fling stain the image Khione has of our family. We’ve always preferred to handle these matters discreetly. That way, when you leave, things simply go back to how they should be. Until the next stupid little girl who thinks she’s clever, of course.”
“You’re insane,” I say simply. “We made plans, we—”
“Am I?” she cuts in. “Why don’t you call him? Call and see for yourself.” She suggests it again, panic blooming inside me.
Why would she tell me to do that if Nero didn’t know what was going on? With trembling fingers, I open my bag’s zipper, not feeling ready to make the call—but… but what choice do I have? Lysandra’s voice stops me.
“I was hoping I wouldn’t have to do this,” she laments, letting out a long sigh. “Call me sentimental,” her shoulders lift and fall, “but even if you don’t believe me now, crushing childish dreams isn’t my favorite pastime. It’s part of the job, you know? There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for my son.” Her hand searches the seat to her left without her eyes leaving mine. “I tried to spare you,” she says, as if she truly cared. “But since you refuse to be rational, you leave me no other choice.” Lysandra lifts the phone she picked up from the seat and taps the screen, unlocking it.
She spends a few seconds looking for whatever it is. Then her eyes return to me.
“Listen,” she says, tapping the screen once more.
I’m not particularly interested in hearing anything this madwoman thinks I should, but when Nero’s laughter fills the car—and then his voice—ice crawls down my spine.
“She’s a gold-digger. Just another one, actually. I honestly don’t know why I keep doing this,” Nero says to someone I can’t identify. The only part of my body that moves is my mouth, but no sound comes out.
My fiancé’s laughter echoes through the speakers again before he continues. “Actually, I do know. I don’t know what it is about those bitches, but their pussies are always the sweetest.” He says it, and I think I’m about to pass out again.
I want to accuse Lysandra of being crazy all over again. I want to say she’s lost her mind and that her delusions won’t convince me. I want to tell her to go to hell and to stay far away from me and my child. But I do none of that—because I could spend the rest of my life arguing against every claim Lysandra has made inside this car, and I still wouldn’t be able to argue with facts. And it is a fact that the voice I’m hearing is Nero’s.
It’s the right voice. Even if the tone, the words, the bitter, aggressive laughter sound like nothing but wrong, the voice saying atrocities about me belongs to my fiancé. I can’t breathe.
