Page 165 of Hades

I flinched. Brock’s hand spread against my stomach. “Breathe, baby.” I tried. Mother saw him touch me, and hatred flashed across her face so quickly I might have imagined it if I didn’t know her better than anyone else did.

“They’re lying,” she said. “All of them. That man is confused. He is confused. He’s always been unstable. Look at him.”

Apollo went white.

Rykard stepped forward. “Say one more word about my son.”

Mother ignored him, eyes locked on me. “You know me. You know who raised you. You know who cared for you when no one else did.”

No one else.

The words slid under my skin with all the old hooks still attached. No one else loved you. No one else stayed. No one else sacrificed. No one else would put up with you. Except now, Rykard was standing right there, looking at me like the sight of me breathing had both saved and destroyed him. Apollo had tears in his eyes and murder in his hands. Brock held me like I wasn’t allowed to disappear inside her voice anymore.

“I don’t understand,” I whispered. It wasn’t enough. It wasn’t anything. But it was all I had.

Mother reached for me. Brock didn’t let her get close.

“Move,” she hissed at him.

“No.”

“I am her mother.”

Rykard’s voice broke through the noise, low and ruined. “No, you’re not.”

Her face twisted. “You don’t know anything.”

“I know your name.”

“My name is Carol Foster.”

“Bullshit.”

Mother recoiled like he’d struck her. The crowd around us thickened. I could feel people watching, whispering, phones appearing in hands. It only took one look from Ares, who had materialized at the edge of the gathering, for most of them to suddenly remember they valued their fingers. Hermes was there too, moving with his usual lazy grace that never fooled anyone who knew better. The Gods of Mayhem were spreading around my booth without anyone giving an order. A wall. For me. Against her. That should have comforted me. Instead, it made me dizzy.

“Lettie,” Brock murmured near my ear. Lettie. That name steadied me more than Violet ever had. It was the name I’d chosen for myself without knowing why. A piece of something true that had survived even when I hadn’t known there was anything to survive.

Mother saw the way I leaned back into him. Her mouth trembled. Then the mask cracked.

“You’ve turned her against me,” she said to Brock.

“No,” he said. “You did that all by yourself.”

“I gave her everything.”

“You took everything.”

The words hit the air like a blade. Mother staggered back one step, and for a second, I saw the woman from my childhood. Not the frail, helpless woman lying in bed, waiting for me to bring a tray. I saw a younger woman with sharp eyes and sharp hands who knew exactly where to press until I folded.

“You don’t know what she owes me,” Mother said.

Something inside me went still. Owes. Not loves. Not means to me. Owes.

Rykard heard it too. I watched his face change, grief burning into something far more dangerous.

Apollo’s hands shook on the arms of his chair. “She was a baby.”

Mother’s gaze snapped to him. “And you lost her.”