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“Hi,” I said, hoping he could still hear me.

Nox rode on his shoulders like a furry parrot, batting motes my way.

“What…?” I started, but the question died in my throat.

A second later, I was smaller. Smaller and staring up at my mother, who was frantically throwing things around the office, sweeping papers off the desk, shaking with rage.

I took a step back, eyes stinging with tears.

“Momma,” I whispered.

“It’s all your fault. You couldn’t have been more useful? I had to whore myself out to that thing.”

I reached for her, realizing I was no taller than her waist. A child, then. A memory.

My father’s voice echoed down the hall, loud and cruel, and I was crying. Afraid. Everyone was angry.

“I should have known!” His voice thundered through the house.

“It’s his fault,” my mother continued, digging through a stack of papers. “His infertility, not mine. And it’s in the prenup.” She glanced at me. “Stop crying.”

The memory flickered, wavering like a candle in the wind.

She glared at me as the door slammed open, my father filling the doorway his face dark with rage. I flinched, shrinking back against the wall, making myself as small as possible.

“Who did you spread your legs for?” he demanded. “Or should I ask what? I knew he wasn’t mine. That incident when he was three was the first clue. Everyone thought he was autistic. If he hadn’t come out of it…”

“I’ve given you exactly what you demanded in our prenup,” my mother said.

He pointed an accusatory finger at me. “That thing is not mine. Might as well offer it to your goddess and be done with it.”

“Lilith takes only willing offerings or the corrupt. He’s neither.” Her voice was cold, steady. “And he’s as yours as anything of mine will ever be. You wanted a child. Nowhere in the prenup does it say it has to be biologically yours.”

“My child wouldn’t be having blackouts.”

“Seizures, not blackouts. The doctors say he’ll grow out of it. You’re shooting blanks. You’ll never have a biological child of your own. It’s this or nothing.”

“And this sniveling? How is he supposed to be my heir when all he does is cry?”

“That isn’t my problem. It’s yours.” She met his glare. “As if you have an empire to give anyway.”

“You seem to like my money enough to spend it almost as fast as I can make it,” he snapped. “No more on him. I’m done.”

“If I leave, I take seventy percent of everything.”

He glared at her, rage making his face red, his fists clenched at his sides. My father stomped out, the door rattling in its frame.

I stood frozen, still pressed against the wall, my cheeks wet with tears. I looked at my mother, hoping that she’d comfort me, maybe even tell me everything was going to be okay.

She didn’t.

“Get out,” she demanded.

I flinched, taking a step toward the door, hesitant.

“I said get out!”

I ran, fearing my father waited in the hall, but hurting so much inside I raced out the door anyway, darting to my room and shutting the door. I didn’t stop until I crawled into the closet, nestling into the darkest corner, two barriers between them and me, and sobbed.