“She’d love it,” Étienne says. “She rides better than me.”
I give him a feeble smile and return to the brush. Comète shifts her weight, blowing warm breath through her nostrils. I press the brush down her shoulder, the rhythm almost enough to trick me into calm.
Brigitte’s voice echoes in my head,Protect your child at any cost.
Étienne hums under his breath as he drags his rake across the straw. He seems happy. Me, I’m unraveling.
Three days ago, at MESS, Alex locked his gaze with mine and vowed he’d never contest Judge Sarrazin’s verdict. But he didn’t know the truth at the time. He didn’t know Geoffroy had shoved Rodolphe to his death. He thought Millie’s inheritance was legitimate, even if Ozzi had interfered to get Judge Vautrin off the case. Alex accepted Sarazzin’s ruling with an open mind on the merits. He felt it was fair. Perhaps borderline and unfortunate for him, but not unjust.
If he learns the truth, he’ll rescind his vow.
And who could blame him?Geoffroy should never have inherited. It should have gone straight to Alex eighteen years ago.
A bitter thought creeps in. Maybe that’s why Geoffroy never wrote a will, never tried to break the entail. He knew his hands were bloodied. Deep down, he knew Alex was the rightful heir.
And now I do, too.
I wish I didn’t! I wish I’d heeded Brigitte and Mireille, and left the past buried… But it’s too late for that. What matters now are the choices I face.
Do I tell Alex the truth?
Do I tell Millie?
Part of me says yes. It feels wrong to keep Rodolphe’s son and granddaughter in the dark about how the duke really died. Brigitte and I are Castellanes by marriage, not by blood. We have no right to guard that truth. We have no right to keep it from Rodolphe’s direct descendants.
But the thought of forfeiting the estate crushes me. Millie wouldn’t just lose her home and sense of security. If I stripped away her image of her father, then the scraps of childhood she has left, already shadowed by illness, would vanish overnight. Her innocence would shatter.
I cough, earning a concerned look from Étienne.
Fine. I’ll keep quiet.
I’ll follow Brigitte’s lead. I’ll join the lie and tell myself I’m doing it for Millie.
Without meaning to, I dig the brush into Comète’s flank a little harder. She flicks her tail but leans into it, tolerant. Stronger than I am.
Étienne glances over. “She likes you. She lets you boss her around more than Millie.”
“Millie has a gentler hand,” I say.
I look at Comète’s glossy neck, the steady rise and fall of her breath. My baby adores this horse. She loves this place.
Can I really gamble it all on Alex’s reaction?
Étienne’s voice cuts into my thoughts. “She’s shiny enough to win a prize already.”
I step back. He pats Comète’s haunch, wishes me a good day, and disappears through the door. I stay and keep brushing. My strokes are lighter now. But my throat is tight with impossible choices.
Do I risk everything and tell Alex the truth?
Do I let my fourteen-year-old carry the knowledge that her father killed her grandfather, and that her inheritance rests on a lie? Or do I keep her safe inside that lie and damn myself? Do I stay silent and give up any chance of a future with Alex?
The thought slices through me.
Wow, that hurt!
It’s hard to believe that three weeks ago, I wanted nothing more than for him to vanish back to Pombrio. A month ago, I hated the man.
And now…
