Page 116 of What Remains

“Either choice your dad makes, it’d be a win-win for my mother-in-law.” Carter lets go of a deep, grunty breath, like something else just clicked. “Also, while Diana’s mom wasn’t in Somalia in 2011, she was the ambassador in Abu Dhabi at the time. She knew a Delta unit was brought over from Africa to the UAE, and my guess is Susan was also aware of what we were doing in Somalia. Either the chief of station told her, or the then-secretary of state. But if that’s the case⁠—”

“Susan probably heard through the grapevine about an Aussie killing innocents, and Wyatt being the reason for his discharge,” Natasha finishes for him. “She could be our link, and that’s why Molly’s name didn’t show up in the files.”

“This is a lot of speculation.” Uncle Gray holds up his hand. “We need to slow roll our accusations without any actual evidence. This isn’t just a woman running for president we’re talking about, but your wife’s mother.”

“Thought you two were finally not at each other’s throats?” Easton asks.

“More like tolerating each other’s existence by avoiding one another as much as humanly possible,” Carter says through his teeth. “We all know what power does to people. She got a taste for it as secretary of state, and that wasn’t enough. Now it’s the presidency.”

“She’d do this to her own daughter? Grandson?” I know my mum isn’t all that great, but this is next-level shit. Then again, she wouldn’t be the first evil mum we’ve encountered.

“There’s nothing my mother-in-law would love more than to martyr me for her cause.”

“She does know a lot about us,” Mya says softly. “Which would answer a lot of our questions about how this is being pulled off.”

“Yeah, well, she doesn’t know Julian’s alive. Or about the CCTV nuke. So, if she is tied to this in any way, that still works in our favor,” I remind everyone. “Grandpa promised me he and the president kept that op a secret to protect Julian and his family.”

Carter peers at me, tight lines cutting across his forehead. “Hell, for all I know, the former secretary of state’s heart attack in 2024 was Susan’s doing so she could take the job.”

This is all just . . .

Too much.

“I need to talk to my wife.” Carter nods at Gray. “Get ahold of your dad and tell him to watch his back, before he ends up with a knife in it.” He takes off after that, and the door slams shut behind him.

Worried I’m going to lose it, I do the first thing that comes to mind and turn into Easton’s arms.

He holds me tight, resting his chin on my head as the morning sun finally creeps over the mountains, its light rippling across the dark glass of the windows—distorted, like the truth we’re still trying to untangle.

CHAPTER 39

Gwen

Frustrated, I set Jerry on the couch in between Mya and myself, then stretch out my legs that I had curled under me while working.

We played musical suites and relocated to Mya and Oliver’s after the storm that is Carter left. Jesse and Easton raced out shortly after to find Griffin, hoping to enlist his help in confronting Carter to remind him we don’t have evidence that his mother-in-law is guilty. Dad, Natasha, and Gray went to make the uncomfortable call to Grandpa to let him know what’s going on. I’m content to hide out with Mya and Oliver until further notice. I might even Irish my coffee soon.

“Ow, ow, ow.” Mya leans back on the couch next to me, a hand under the curve of her bump as she closes one eye and winces.

Oliver materializes before us and kneels before her. “You okay?”

She smiles and brings his hand to her side. “Our baby is moving and elbowing me in the ribs.”

“If I could take the elbows for you, you know I would.” Oliver leans forward and rests his forehead against her belly, and it’s such a sweet moment I almost forget why we’re really here.

“I’m just going to . . .” I angle my head to the door. “Be right back.” I hop up to my feet and leave before either can object.

I only make it a few doors down in the hall before I spot Dad solo’ing it my way.

He stops in front of me and folds his arms, casually leaning his shoulder against the wall. “How are you holding up, baby girl?”

The man loves to sweetly ruin “baby girl” for all future men who might call me that.

Who am I kidding? There’s only one guy I see in my future.

“I’m okay, but also not a baby,” I remind him, and he mimics my signature eye roll, throwing a slight guffaw under his breath along with it like I’ve been known to do. “Did you already talk to Grandpa?”

“We did.”