“The note made it clear,” Kate said. She remembered it, word for word, and she would have recited it out loud, but Maeve reached into her pocket for the note and spread it on the desk.
A ring for a ring.
Miranda stole my mother’s promise ring from Conor to give to you.
I am returning the favor, a ring around the moon, a circle in the sky.
Don’t look up at the sky, Kate. Just turn around.
And there in Fernando’s studio, Kate had turned around and come face-to-face with Maeve. She stared with sadness at Maeve now. She felt heartbroken by the betrayal.
“Whose ring?” Caroline asked.
“Belinda’s,” Kate said.
“Have you figured out who her daughter is?” Maeve asked.
Kate closed her eyes. She thought they were all Belinda’s daughters, at least spiritually: the troubled girls of Maynard-King.
“It doesn’t matter which one of you she gave birth to—Suzanne, you, some other girl here at Maynard-King. Maybe she made it all up,” Kate said.
“She didn’t make it up,” Suzanne said, her face turning red.
“Belinda lived here and corrupted every young girl who came into her life,” Kate said. “She brought you all into 1740—she obviously did that to her daughter too. Turned her into a monster just like herself.”
“Don’t say that,” Suzanne said.
“Just look at Caroline,” Kate said. “Girl #3. That’s what Belinda’s legacy is. Destruction, pain, robbing someone of her name and of her life.”
Caroline was shaking, and when Kate glanced over at her, she saw tears running down her cheeks.
“And for what?” Kate asked. “To be raped by men who belong to 1740? I’m sorry if it happened to you, Maeve—but now you are just as bad as they are. Trauma doesn’t excuse anyone from hurting someone else. I saw the handcuffs and the blood onPsyche.”
“I didn’t have anything to do with that! I’m not one of them!” Maeve said, so vehemently that it took Kate aback, made her almost believe she was telling the truth.
“No?” Kate asked, looking straight into Maeve’s eyes. “Then what do you make of the fact that Caroline and I are handcuffed together, tied to the floor, so we can’t get away?”
Maeve didn’t reply. She looked nervously at Darla and inched closer to Kate.
“And you, Darla—what are you doing here?” Kate asked. “What role do you play in this nightmare?”
“I’m the business manager of Leprince de Beaumont Associates, LLC,” Darla said.
“Part of doing business is keeping women restrained?” Kate asked, lifting her handcuffed wrist.
Suzanne noticed that Darla’s champagne glass was empty, and she stepped forward to refill it. Darla nodded and thanked her. Suzanne leaned over to kiss her cheek. Kate barely saw any of it. She was staring out the window, hoping that Sam was safe: that she had seen Kate and run away to call the police. To call Conor, to tell him to come.
“Just go along with it for now, Kate,” Maeve said in a low voice, with her back to Darla and Suzanne.
“What are you talking about?” Kate asked, startled.
“I’ll help you escape,” Maeve whispered urgently. “I promise. Just follow my lead. I’ve had enough.”
Tuesday, July 6; 7:00 p.m.
“This is not good,” Jennifer said, crouching beside Sam underneath the window of the classroom where Kate was being held.
“No kidding,” Sam asked. “We have to get Kate out of there.”
