He shook his head. “You’re going to be the end of me, Chloe Landry.”
“I know,” I said, heading for the passenger side. “Now, let’s see how fast this thing goes.”
Chapter 41: Chloe
The black sedan stopped smoothly at the front door of my temporary home. I waited for the driver to open the door, watching my reflection in the dark glass. Behind us, a black SUV idled; two men sat inside, eyes scanning the street.
I had spent the morning with Killian, driving around in his new car. When I told him I wanted to go shopping, he said he had "business" to handle—so he arranged this car and the two men in the SUV to follow me.
I stepped onto the pavement. The butler met me and the driver at the door while the two men stayed in the SUV. The butler took the heavy, glossy bags from the driver. There were a lot of them. For fourteen years, my "shopping" had consisted of Mary sneaking me new things. Now, I had bags from boutiques where the air smelled like money and the floors were polished to a mirror finish.
Dr. Aris had called me today to check in. I asked her what it was called when you ain't never had anything, and then you go crazy once you have access, and if that was even healthy.
She laughed a little and said, "You are the most self-reflective person I've ever met who grew up in isolation."
I didn't ask if that was good or bad.
"It's called reclamation, Chloe," she continued. "After fourteen years of having no control, your brain is overcorrecting.You're reaching for everything you were denied." She paused. "It's about autonomy. Is it healthy long-term? You'll need balance eventually. But for today? Buy the shoes. You're teaching your body that the world isn't scarce anymore."
I took a second to just stand there in the foyer, my chest tight as I remembered her words.
"Ma'am, are you okay?"
I turned to the butler. He was at least fifty, with graying hair and a potbelly. I hated him calling me ma'am.
"Please don't call me that. I already feel too old to be so young."
He smiled softly and nodded, as if to sayokay. "The Harts are waiting for you in the dining room."
When I walked into the dining room, the air was suddenly full.
"Surprise!"
The word hit me like a physical wave. I gasped, my hands flying to my chest as I took in the room. It wasn't just Killian. Silas was at the head of the table, his cane resting against his chair. Elara and her husband were here; Julian was damn near crawling inside Elara's skin. I guessed this was the "business" Killian had to take care of.
But then I saw who was standing next to Elara.
"Mary?"
My heart filled. The woman who had been my only ally in that house stepped forward. She looked healthier, less stressed. She pulled me into a hug that smelled of the same floral detergent she'd used for a decade. It was the smell of my survival.
"Happy birthday, Chloe," she whispered into my ear. "You're finally out."
She didn't let me go right away. Instead, her hands slid up to cup my face, her rough palms warm against my skin. Then she bowed her head slightly.
"Lord, thank you," she crooned, her voice soft. "Thank you for keeping her when I couldn't. Thank you for covering her when they tried to break her. Thank you for letting her see this day." Her thumbs brushed just under my eyes. "Whatever was taken from her, give it back tenfold. Peace for her mind. Strength for her heart. And don't let nobody ever make her feel small again." Her voice cracked just a little. "Let her walk in every room knowing she belongs there. In Jesus' name... amen."
She lifted her head, blinking quickly as if she hadn't just said something that monumental in the middle of a dining room. I didn't realize I was crying until she wiped my cheek with the side of her hand.
"Okay," she said, forcing a small smile. "That's enough of that. You got people waiting on you now."
She stepped aside. Behind her stood three people I didn't recognize, but their faces looked like my own—the high cheekbones and deep-set eyes of my mother's lineage.
"Your cousins," Killian said, stepping toward me. He looked devastating in a suit. "The Wests. I figured if we were going to celebrate your life, we should have the people whose blood runs in your veins here to see it."
Ariana was short and petite; her dark skin was so clear and even it looked polished. She was a nurse. Cedrick was a lawyer, at least six-foot-seven. He had tears in his eyes when he hugged me. MJ was younger; he said he was going to graduate high school with honors. I was already planning to buy him a car and pay for his college. They all had the same mother, who was twice removed from mine. She was out of town but they said she would meet me later.
I felt full. I couldn't stop crying.
