My mother's face goes pale. She may be defending him, but I don't know if she knew this part.
“You don't know what you're talking about.”
“Don't I?” Ashland leans back. “Funny thing about the McCarthy family, we keep very good records. We'veknown who Marcus Crowning is for a very long time. The question is, did you?”
The silence stretches, heavy and damning.
“Mam?” My voice cracks. “Did you know?”
She looks away, her fingers twisting in her lap. “I knew there were rumors, but rumors aren't facts, Bianca. Marcus's father is a good man. He would never let his son?—”
“His father is a criminal,” Erin says from the corner. It's the first time she's spoken, pragmatic and direct. “Just like Marcus, just like all the Crownings.”
“Who are you?” My mother's head snaps toward Erin. Something passes between them.
“My name is Erin McCarthy. I'm married to Cavin. I work for the McCarthy family, Mrs. White,” Erin says quietly, directly. “I actually pay their bills. And, as a matter of fact, yours.”
My mother blinks. Then her head snaps back to me, and her lips press together. She's been lying the whole time.
“You knew,” I whisper. Realization hits me like a physical blow. “You knew he was dangerous, and you still wanted me to marry him.”
“I wanted you to be taken care of,” my mother says firmly. “I wanted you to have the life you deserved. The life your father would have wanted.”
“My father,” I say, “worked for the McCarthy family. He wasn't their victim, was he?”
The words hang in the air. My mother's face crumbles. “Who told you that? These monsters? They're responsible for his death, Bianca.”
“Remember where you are,” Erin says coldly.
“Yes,” Ashland says quietly. “He worked for us. He chose it. He signed paperwork to that end, knowing what he was doing was dangerous. We tried to save him, but we couldn't. And ever since he died, we've been making amends for it, haven't we?” He nods to Erin.
“We have records, ma'am.”
“Lies,” my mother hisses. “Lies.”
“Are they?” I sit up straighter. “I've seen those files, Mam. I've seen the evidence. The bank records, the communications.”
“They killed your father, and they had to pay for what they did.”
The room goes very quiet.
“Pay,” I repeat slowly. “What do you mean,pay?”
My mother's mouth opens and closes. She's said too much, and she knows it.
“That's right,” Ashland says, his voice deadly calm. “Have we been giving you money?”
“Answer the question,” I demand.
“Every month,” my mother spits out. “Fine. Guilt money, blood money for taking her father from her. I took it because it was the least they could do.”
“They've been supporting us.” I shake my head. “All these years, when you said you were struggling. When you said we could barely afford groceries and lived in that crappy apartment. They were sending money to assuage their guilt. To take care of us,” I whisper. “Because even though they were not responsible for Da's death, they still made sure his family was provided for. And you made them out to be the devils themselves.”
The pieces are falling into place now.
“The engagement to Marcus. You arranged it, didn't you? Not for my future or my safety.”
My mother's silence is answer enough.
