Page 86 of Queen of Nothing

It skids onto the benchtop—and Oliver smacks his hand down on it before it can fly off the counter.

Serena uses the opportunity to worm away from Oliver. She slides the envelope with her retreating steps, until she’s at the edge of the camera.

Oliver casually leans against the bench, watching as she slips out the letter and unfolds it.

A patience blankets over the room.

But I don’t feel that patience with me in the car.

My leg bobs, up and down, up and down; my fingers twist and tug and weave on my lap; my breaths tremble, slick with tears.

Right now, I should be clambering out of the car, grabbing Sal, and speeding out of town.

But I listen as my father speaks, and my insides flip—

“As the letter details,” he starts, disinterested, “you are officially disinherited and disowned by the Vasiles. Your father does not wish to see you, or speak to you again. Any attempts to contact the Vasiles, or anyone in the Videralli, will be considered the actions of a rogue.”

My insides run cold.

Serena pauses reading.

Her lashes flutter—wet, glistening—then she lifts her numb, disbelieving stare to my father.

This time, I swear he does incline his head.

He nods a slight gesture down in the lane, like someone is there, and he’s giving them a signal.

Then he tears his gaze away from the window, and finally, he looks at Serena.

He looks at her as though he hasn’t known her since she was a baby, like he isn’t friends with her father, all the way back to his academy days.

He just looks at her like she is a total stranger.

“Your father is generous,” he says. “He offers you liberation from the Videralli. But how will you sustain this freedom of yours? Whatever money you had from pooling your earrings and necklaces together,” he says it with such disdain, “has been lost. I am certain you have little left, because, as you have learned by now, life is expensive.”

Oliver peels away from the kitchen. But he doesn’t move towards Serena.

Instead, he goes back to the partition, just at the edge of the camera scope, and he reclines against it, folding his arms across his chest.

Serena trembles, and the letter quakes in her hands.

My father continues. “We are not leaving here without Olivia. But if you are cooperative, you will be compensated for your assistance.”

Oliver lifts his moody gaze to Serena. “I hear it is awfully expensive to raise a child these days.”

Father nods his head in Mr Younge’s direction. “That brings us to the other matter.”

Mr Younge reaches for the doorframe, and he knocks the wood just once.

Serena’s silence is tense. Her hands tremble.

The letter shivers in her tense grip.

She turns her wide, watery eyes on the doorway—just as he steps inside.

A guttural sound is tugged out of me, like a serrated ribbon that comes all the way from my gut.

Polished Oxford shoes step over the threshold.