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“You could say that,” I agreed, my mind drifting back. “When I was seven and Kieran was just two, things got messier. Dad started seeing Brenda. Then he’d go back to Angela, then to Brenda again. It went on for years like that.”
“Liam’s mom?”
“Yeah, Liam’s mum,” I replied.
“Years, though?”
She sounded incredulous, her eyes widening in disbelief.
“Years,” I confirmed, feeling the weight of those memories pressing down on me. The constant shifting of women in and out of our house, the whispered arguments that filled the nights – they were the soundtrack of my childhood.
“God, Tristan. That’s...it’s a lot,” she murmured, reaching for my hand once more. Her touch was gentle but carried the kind of strength that comes from having weathered storms of your own.
“That’s not the half of it,” I said, clearing my throat and shifting the focus back to the past, “Anyway, when Liam was born, my mum...she was a saint. She took him in as her own despite everything.”
My voice softened with respect for the woman who had been more of a mother than anyone else. For all of us.
“Seriously?” Adriana’s eyebrows arched in surprise. “After all that betrayal?”
“Yup. That was her. She couldn’t stand to see a child suffer because of Malachy’s sins. Even after they divorced, she still cared for Liam like he was her own blood.”
“Wow,” she murmured, her eyes reflecting a mix of admiration and disbelief.
“Malachy eventually married Brenda,” I continued, my gaze fixed on the flames that seemed to burn away the edges of my words. “But it was doomed from the start. He always loved my mum; nothing could change that. He wanted it all back, you know? Not just her, but the status he had when he was with her. It helped, having a good, devoted Catholic woman by his side. But she wasn’t just good for his reputation. I think, in his own fucked up way, she was the love of my dad’s life.”
“Funny way of showing it,” Adriana said.
“Yeah, not a great husband,” I said.
“So what happened?” Adriana prompted, her hand still clasping mine.
“He killed her. Brenda, I mean.” There, I’d said it—the dark truth that had started to haunt me since I was twelve. “Interference—that’s what he called it. She tried to keep him from seeing Catherine and that was something he couldn’t tolerate.”
“Jesus, Tristan...” Her voice trailed off, horror etched into every syllable.
“First one he ever killed,” I stated flatly, the bitter reality of it tasting like ash in my mouth. “And it wasn’t the last. Liam’s mum was just…she was just the beginning.”
Chapter Twenty-Five: Tristan
Iscraped the last bits of sour cream and cheese from the inside of my jacket potato, the silence between us stretching out a little too long. Adriana watched me, her fork paused mid-air, waiting for me to continue.
“Look, I’ve never wanted to dig into this mess, but with everything that’s happening…”
“I mean, I did ask.”
“Right,” I sighed, pushing away the plate, feeling a knot tighten in my stomach. “It’s all been secondhand stories, whispers in dark corners. But they’re starting to make sense now.”
She nodded, her dark eyes locked on mine, urging me to go on without saying a word.
“Malachy...after Brenda, you know, was murdered. After he murdered her,” I stumbled over the words, hating the taste of them on my tongue, “it didn’t end there. Kieran’s mom, Angela, she started pushing his buttons. Wanted more than the shadows she was living in. She demanded to be legitimized as one of his wives.”
“Like a public claim?” Adriana’s voice was quiet, but sharp like a blade, cutting through the layers of implications.
“Yeah,” I confirmed, feeling the weight of years of secrets pressing down on me. “She was no longer content being the secret—the mistress. And Malachy, he couldn’t have that. His control, his reputation...it was all at stake. And like I said, he loved my mum.”
“So what did he do?”
“Malachy was a man who solved problems one way—permanently.” My voice hardened with the cold truth. “He had Angela killed. Made it seem like an accident or something unconnected. But it left Kieran without a mother and cemented my dad’s reputation as someone not to cross.”
