“And I’ve told you that I don’t need you or anyone else to infantilize me.” Mallory’s reply was sharp enough to slice through glass. “The world is like that, you know.” The woman oriented back toward Eve, sounding more maternal. “You have to learn to take what you want—and never, ever let someone take what you don’t want to give.” Mallory laid a hand on Eve’s cheek. “You’re strong. Like me. Like Emily was.”
This time, there was no audible response from Rebecca. I bumped my shoulder gently against hers, a silent, deliberate I’m here. I wondered if Xander felt as useless as I did standing there, watching her oldest scars seeping.
“Can I ask you something?” Eve said to Mallory.
Mallory smiled. “Anything, sweet girl.”
“You’re my grandmother. Is your husband here? Is he my grandfather?”
Mallory’s reply was controlled. “We don’t need to talk about that.”
“All I’ve ever wanted is to know where I come from,” Eve told her.
“Please?”
Mallory stared at her for the longest time. “Could you call me Mom?”
she asked softly. I saw Rebecca shake her head—not at her mother or at Eve or at anyone. She was just shaking it because this was not a good idea.
“Tell me about Toby’s father?” Eve asked. “Please, Mom?”
Mallory’s eyes closed, and I wondered what dead places inside of her had seized with life when Eve had uttered that one little word.
“Eve,” I said sharply, but Rebecca’s mother spoke over me.
“He was older. Very attractive. Very mysterious. We used to sneak around the estate, up to the House, even. I had free rein of it all in those days, but I was forbidden to bring guests. Mr. Hawthorne valued his privacy. He would have lost his mind if he’d known what I was getting up to, what we did in his hallowed halls.” Mallory opened her eyes. “Teenage girls and the forbidden.”
“What was his name?” Rebecca asked, taking a step toward her mother.
“This really doesn’t concern you, Rebecca,” Mallory snapped.
“What was his name?” Eve co-opted Rebecca’s question. Maybe it was supposed to be a kindness, but it felt cruel because she got an answer.
“Liam,” Mallory whispered. “His name was Liam.”
Eve leaned forward. “What happened to him? Your Liam?”
Mallory stiffened like a marionette whose strings were suddenly pulled tight. “He left.” Her voice was calm—too calm. “Liam left.”
Eve took both of Mallory’s hands in hers. “Why did he leave?”
“He just did.”
The doorbell rang, and Oren strode to the door. I followed him to the foyer. As his hand closed over the knob, he gave an order, doubtless to one of his men outside.
“Close in.” Oren glanced over his shoulder at me. “Stay put, Avery.”
“Why is Avery staying put?” Xander asked, coming into the foyer beside me. Rebecca took one step to follow him, then hesitated, frozen in her own personal purgatory, caught between us and the words being murmured between Eve and her mother.
My brain got to the answer to Xander’s question before Oren could articulate it. “This is the first time I’ve left the estate since the last package was delivered,” I noted. “You’re expecting another delivery.”
In reply, my head of security answered the door with his gun drawn.
“Hello to you, too,” Thea said dryly.