“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.”
“What?” I stare at her, shell-shocked.
Tears well in her eyes. “Your Aunt Genevieve carried you and Drew to full term.”
“Oh, my God.” Intense pressure settles on my chest. “Why didn’t she tell me?”
“I can’t answer that, love.”
She glances at her watch. “I’m sorry to cut this short, but I need to head home before he sends someone out to search for me.”
I struggle to snap out of it, remembering the other stuff I need to know. “Just a couple of other questions, please.”
She eyes her purse longingly, and my heart aches for her.How bad must it be that you need to spend every day high or drunk?I used to think she was weak, but she’s broken and destroyed because of things the elite have done to her. I wish I’d made more of an effort to speak with her when I was engaged to Trent and over at their house every second Sunday for dinner.
“You said Christian confirmed he murdered your two friends. Do you know if there’s evidence we can use to pin my mother’s death on my father?”
“I don’t think so. Your mom died in a car accident. The brakes failed. I’m sure your father or my husband paid someone to tamper with them and keep their mouth shut. They also paid off whoever inspected the scene. They bribed the authorities to omit it in official reports. They think of everything, Abby. They always tie all loose ends. This is their job. If someone crosses them, they eliminate them without a second thought.” She clicks her fingers. “They never leave a trail.”
“But they did with Emma’s murder,” I say. “Do you know where my mother stashed the evidence proving my father killed her?”
A strange look appears on her face.
I frown. “What’s that look for?”
“You mean proof that Michael got the pills found in Emma’s stomach contents?”
“Yes.” My frown deepens. “What else could I mean?”
“Your mother told me, but she wouldn’t say where she’d hidden it. She believed it was safest if I didn’t know, and she was right. After she died, Christian tried to beat it out of me, and when he realized I might be telling the truth, he put me through a polygraph.” She squeezes my hand. “Your mother never stopped protecting me.”
