Page 182 of Vow to Claim You

Her lips press into a thin, displeased line. She sets her bag down on the couch by the wall next to the door, and straightens. The woman who stood in this room thirty seconds ago ceases to exist.

“I wanted to play mommy dearest a little longer.” Her voice is different now, no longer fragile, no longer trembling. Instead, it’s smooth and precise, completely devoid of the maternal anguish she was wearing like a costume. “I had a whole second act planned. Tears, reconciliation, the slow rebuild of trust. You’d have let me into your home, your life, your guard.” She tilts her head, and the gesture is so eerily like mine that my stomach turns. “But since you already know, there’s no point wasting either of our time.”

“Are you even Angelique?” The question sounds strange in my own mouth, asking a woman if she’s my mother.

“I am,” she says without any sentiment, her shoulder shrugging. “Angelique was who I was before your father destroyed her. Vivienne is who I became after.”

“So it was you.” I barely hold myself together. Not because I feel betrayed by her or hurt. Because I just found the source of all the catastrophe in my life. “All of it. You’re the one above. The one pulling every string.”

The side of her lips curve into a smirk, and I’ve seen smirks on dangerous people. I’ve seen them on men who kill for sport and women who trade in betrayal. I’ve worn one myself on occasion. But this one—this one has been decades in the making, and it’s sickening.

“Smart boy.” Her head angles to the other side. “You must get that from me.”

My eyes narrow. “Why are you here? Why come back now?”

She walks toward the window, so nonchalantly as though she owns the room and I’m the one standing in it by her permission.

“I tried to kill your father.” She turns to face me. “So many times. More than you’d believe. But he was always protected. Hidden behind his men, his compound, his precious syndicate.” Her head shakes as if in annoyance. “The Gods. As long as they existed around him, I couldn’t touch him.”

“You know about the Gods.”

“Barry Thorne told me everything.” She waves her hand. “He was obsessed. The way your father was once, except Barry was useful and your father was only dangerous.” Her arms fold. “Barry would have done anything I asked. And he did. For years.”

I swallow, fighting for composure. “The alliance. Between the Almaviris and the Volds. The marriage. He suggested it at the council because you told him to.”

“Indirectly.” She lifts a shoulder so dismissively it makes my jaw ache from clenching. “I planted the idea. Nurtured it. Let him believe it was his own brilliance. That’s always been more effective than orders. Men like Barry don’t follow commands well, but they’ll chase their own ideas to the ends of the earth.”

“And Leandro?”

“Leandro was my first prey.” She paces in front of my desk, slow and measured. “After I became the person I am today.”

“Care to elaborate, Mommy?” The title tastes like poison on my tongue.

She scoffs, recognizing the contempt beneath my words. “The person people turn to when they want something done without their name anywhere near it. I built that reputation from nothing. Years of work and strategic alliances. Men who owed me favors they didn’t fully understand.” Her mouth curves again. “Leandro hated Vidar. They’d been at war for years. I thought he would help me destroy your father. We tried. Multiple times. Every attempt failed. Vidar was too well-insulated. Too paranoid. Too protected.”

“So you thought the alliance would give you inside access.”

She smiles, and her eyes spark with what seems like pride. “Precisely. I thought I could reach Vidar from the inside. Through Leandro. Through you. Through the marriage that would put my pawn’s daughter in my target’s home.” A sigh escapes her. “But Leandro got greedy. The seat at the council consumed him. He stopped caring about my objectives and started caring only about his own. He wouldn’t play by my rules anymore.”

“So you went around him.”

“You’re so clever, son. You’ve got it all figured out.”

My muscles tense at her calling me “son” because this woman has no right to refer to me as that. But I don’t show her any trace of emotion.

“I reached Luca.” She continues, leaning against the desk with one hand flat on its top. “Gave him enough information to blackmail Leandro. Details about the affair, enough to threaten exposure. Enough that Leandro had no choice but to eliminate the threat.”

“You wanted it to cascade.”

She beams. “I designed the cascade.” The pride in her voice makes my blood turn cold. “Leandro would kill Luca. Luca’s death would create chaos. Chaos would create investigation. The investigation would point to Leandro, because I made sure the breadcrumbs led to his door. And Leandro, cornered and desperate, would want to eliminate the person closing in on him.” She looks at me with those pale-blue eyes—corrupted beyond recognition. “You.”

“You wanted him to kill me.”

“I needed him to try.” She leans back. “If he killed you, one Vold gone. If he failed and was exposed, I’d lose a pawn but gain leverage. Either way, the board advanced.”

The logic is flawless. That’s the part that sickens me. Not the cruelty; I’ve seen cruelty. Not the calculation; I live in calculation. But the decades-long patience. The willingness to destroy lives, families, children, as long as the endgame moved one square closer.

“Why?” The question scrapes out of me, rougher than I intend. “Why would you want to kill me? If your war was with Vidar.”