Chapter 2

The first person I saw when I got home with Dad was Julia Willis, sitting on the sofa.

She was the woman my father used to call his "mistress."

She was over forty, but she'd taken good care of herself, and every small movement she made still carried the kind of grace a grown woman earns with time. When she saw me come in, she gave the apron at her waist a nervous little tug.

"Anne... your dad mentioned you liked these dishes, so I gave them a try." She hesitated. "If they're not good, just tell me. Don't force yourself to eat something you don't like."

I walked straight up to the table without any hesitation, picked up a bite, and ate it. Under their two nervous stares, I let a smile spread across my face.

"It's delicious, Aunt Julia. I really like it."

Both of them relaxed at once, clearly caught off guard by how I was acting. In my old life, the moment I so much as saw Julia, I'd have gone at her like a wildcat, ready to claw her face off. They had no idea I already knew the whole truth about what had happened between them, years ago.

Back then, my father had been riding high in the business world, building something out of nothing, and he and Julia—still just a couple at the time—had been about to get married. Nobody expected my mother, out of her mind even then, to set her sights on him.

At a business dinner, my mother had slipped something into his drink and gotten herself pregnant with me. My father had been furious and refused to acknowledge the child, but my mother threatened him: give her a proper place in his life, or she'd accuse him of rape.

Julia had watched him claw his way through everything it took to get where he was, and in the end, she chose to sacrifice herself. She left the country in the middle of the night, and the two of them—together for years—were torn apart.

My mother was the one who'd destroyed that relationship. And with the way she kept causing trouble afterward, pushing my father past his limit, it was no wonder our family fell apart the way it did.

The three of us were finally enjoying a peace that hadn't come easily. I'd just lifted another bite to my mouth when the phone rang. It was my mother.

"I didn't expect you to have more of a head on your shoulders than your sister. Playing the pitiful little victim all these years, and when it counts, you still pick the money."

The mockery in her voice wasn't even something she bothered hiding.

My father's face went dark with anger, ready to argue with her, but I just answered flatly, without a trace of feeling.

"If you already understand all that, why bother calling me? I'm busy. The three of us still have dinner to finish."

I put extra weight on those words—the three of us—on purpose. My mother clearly hadn't expected me to agree so readily. It took her a few seconds before she came back, colder than before.

"Ungrateful little wretch. I'm still your mother. Your father gives you plenty every month. You have to send them all to me."

I didn't expect much from her. I'd known from the start she was only calling for money. I spun my spoon lazily between my fingers.

"Doesn't Dad send child support every month? Isn't that enough for you two? What am I supposed to live on then?"

She let out a scoff. "Your father's rich enough, isn't he? Go ask him for more! Your sister's different from you—I'm raising her right. Once she's made something of herself, she'll take good care of you."

She said it so naturally, like sacrificing herself and Keira for me was some kind of honor she was bestowing on me. Just as selfish as she'd always been.

I didn't bother wasting more words on her.

"Sure. The two of you can kneel and beg me thirty times a month, and I'll wire the money over."

That answer set her off immediately—she started shrieking through the phone. I just set it down on the table and let her talk to herself until she wore herself out and hung up.

'Mom, when are you finally going to understand? I saw through you a long time ago.'