I step outside into chaos, scanning the black SUVs lining the driveway. I spot Reid leaning against one of them, speaking quietly with another agent, posture relaxed but eyes sharp like a razor—just like his brother, always assessing. Always aware.
When he notices me approaching, he straightens, giving me his full attention.
“Where is she?” I ask.
Reid jerks his chin toward the SUV behind him. “Backseat.”
“Can I have a minute?”
He studies me for a beat, assessing me. “You good?”
I release a calming breath, grounding myself for what I’m about to do. “Better than I’ve been in a really long time.”
Reid’s expression softens as he gives my shoulder a reassuring squeeze, then he steps aside, giving me space while staying close enough that I know he’s watching my back.
I open the door. My mother sits inside, wrists cuffed in front of her, mascara staining her red cheeks. Even now, she’s wrapped in one of her expensive designer dresses, the kind she wears like a piece of armor.
Her eyes widen when she sees me. “Karmen—oh my God.” Her voice cracks. “Can you please tell me what’s happening? Where’s your father?”
“He’s been detained,” I say, my tone colder than I’ve ever used with her. “Pending a full investigation, but I’ll be honest with you, it’s not looking good. He’s going to prison for the rest of his life.” I let the words hang between us, watching her face as they fully sink in. “What will you do then, Mother?”
Her mouth twists, eyes flaring with indignation. “What are you talking about? I’ve done nothing wrong. Tell them to take these off now.” She shakes her cuffed hands at me. “This is ridiculous.”
“You knew,” I say quietly.
Her brows knit in confusion.
“Knew what?”
“All of it.”
“I didn’t know anything,” she insists. “I swear.”
I lean in, lowering my voice. “But you do know who my real father was, don’t you?”
Her breath stutters, a flicker of panic flashing across her face. “How—how do you know that?”
“It doesn’t matter how.” My throat tightens, but I don’t look away, and for once in my life, I don’t hide the hurt or the pain I’m feeling. “What matters is that you kept it from me. You hid an essential part of my life. My past. My identity.”
Her lips part, but no words come out. And for the first time, she looks truly afraid. Afraid of me seeing her for who she truly is.
My mother’s breath hitches, her perfect composure slipping. The mask that she’s worked on for so long is cracking right down the center. For a moment, she looks smaller, more fragile than I’ve ever seen her. It makes me sad for her. I feel sorry for her. That she wasted her life on a man like him.
“Karmen,” she whispers, voice trembling with regret. “I only wanted to protect you.”
“Protect me?” A bitter laugh escapes before I can stop myself. “From what? From the truth? From the man who raised me? From the man who isn’t even my father? Or from the man who was?”
She darts her eyes away, but she can’t hide the guilt written all over her face. “You don’t understand,” she murmurs. “Your father—your real father—he was dangerous. I was trying to keep you safe.”
“Safe?” I repeat, leaning in. “You married a corrupt man who’s treated me like shit my whole life, who launders money for a fucking cartel. A dangerous man who has killed people to get what he wants. Don’t talk to me about safe.”
She flinches at my words as they hit their intended target.
“You choose him. You always choose him over me,” I say, my heart breaking a little more.
No matter how much I want to block out the pain, I can’t. These people hurt me. They lied to me.
“No, that’s not true. I chose you.”
