“Like I said, locals like to gossip,” he said. “Officially, we’ll have this recorded as a tragic accident, and you should see the case closed out in a week or so.”
I held his gaze. “Understood.”
“How are the children?” he asked.
“Resting.”
His expression eased slightly. “Good. Keep them home from school for the next few days. Especially the little girl.”
“I was planning on it.”
“If you need anything, contact me directly.” I nodded once. “I’m sorry for your loss,” he said before he turned to leave. The door shut behind him, and silence swallowed the room again.
Violet wrapped her arms around herself. “Do you think there’ll be trouble?”
I pushed my hand through the smoke-stained hair. “No. The chief has always had my family’s back. Besides, there’s no evidence to reveal what had happened.”
“Yeah, that’s probably for the best,” Violet murmured. “We don’t want Aria and Dimitros learning that Amara tried to… kill us all. They already suffered enough.”
“Dimitros might suspect it.” My son was too mature for his age and a part of me regretted that he missed out on childhood and teenage mischievousness because of who his parents were. Yes, Amara was mad, but my own way of living required him to be extra cautious too.
Violet’s arms wrapped around my waist and I found comfort in that small action.
“Papa?”
The small voice belonging to Aria had both of us turning instantly.
Dimitros stood at the end of the hallway, hair messy and his face pale beneath the dim lighting. Aria stood beside him, clutching a blanket tightly to her chest, her eyes red.
Violet and I crossed the room immediately, and I pulled them both into my arms.
“You should both be resting,” I murmured against Aria’s hair. “Where is the oxygen mask?”
“I heard voices,” she responded, reaching for Violet’s hand. She seemed a bit disoriented. “What happened? How did we get here?”
“Is Mother dead?” Dimitros’s question hollowed something out inside my chest.
Aria stared at me and Violet, waiting for me to deny it.
I wished I could. I wished I could lie to them just this once. But I’d spent too many years lying for Amara already.
“Yes,” I said quietly. “She died in the fire.”
Aria’s face crumpled instantly.
“We forgot to get her out?” She whispered the question.
“No, we didn’t forget her,” Violet assured her. “But she didn’t want to be saved, baby. I think she… she just wanted peace.”
“Did she suffer?” she asked softly.
I thought about the flames. About the smoke. About how she almost killed my children.
And despite everything she’d done… despite the rage and horror… Part of me still remembered the woman she used to be before madness consumed her.
“No, she didn’t suffer,” I lied. “Amara is finally at peace.”
Aria buried herself against Violet, sobbing, and I looked back at Dimitros, who stood perfectly still. He knew I lied. He knew I didn’t want him to remember Amara the way she was most of his life.
