Page 29 of City of Liars

“Don’t you have anything to say for yourself?” he prompted.

I knew I shouldn’t let his disappointment define me. I was a grown woman, and my self-worth was tied to my own actions and achievements, not to what my father thought of me. But somehow, he made me feel like I was sixteen all over again. Struggling not to lose my temper, I gripped Chloe’s shirt tighter. “I’m sorry for lying to you. That was the wrong thing to do. But I was afraid if I told you the truth, you’d never let him in the door.”

“Of course we wouldn’t have!” My mother’s sigh was so heavy with the weight of all the ways I’d let her down, it could’ve sunk the Titanic. “It’s hard for people of our social standing to know who we can trust, Olivia. I’ve drilled that into you since you were a child. Everyone wants something from us. But I never thought we’d have to protect ourselves from our own daughter.”

Tears stung my eyes. “I’m sorry you find me to be so worthless, Mother.”

“Oh, don’t make this about you! That man could have done anything. We’re lucky that the worst crime he committed was lying to us. For all you know, he could’ve planted a bug in Ella’s house.” Her voice rose, as if this were a credible threat. “Russ, you don’t think⁠—”

“Already on it, Kate. I have a security team scheduled to do a sweep in the morning.”

A security team? “This is ridiculous! What do you think Theo’s going to do? Steal Ruth’s cranberry-walnut muffin recipe? Kidnap Grandma Ella all over again?”

“That is enough out of you, Olivia!” In the background, dishes rattled, as if my father had slammed his fist on the table. “You’ve exhibited terrible judgment in the past—marrying that irresponsible artist, finding yourself on your own to raise a child—and we haven’t said a word. We’ve supported you financially when you needed it, paid for years of schooling without complaint. And this is how you repay us?”

Hadn’t said a word? They’d had plenty of things to say about Gray, both before we tied the knot and after I signed the divorce papers. “My marriage, Chloe, and my PhD have nothing to do with this situation,” I retorted, trying my best to hold my own. “This is about finding the truth, and maybe having the chance to reunite Grandma Ella with her long-lost family.”

“This is about you being a liar!” my father roared.

“Now, Russ, there’s no need to get ugly. The neighbors—” my mother tried, but it was too late.

“The hell with the neighbors. Shut the damned windows if you’re so concerned.” More slamming and rattling. “Olivia, what’s happened to your common sense? Is that man blackmailing you in some way? Because otherwise, I can’t begin to understand what you’re thinking.”

Of all the absurd accusations. “No, Theo isn’t blackmailing me!”

“That’s too bad.” My father had stopped yelling. Now his voice was frigid, the way it got when he’d moved beyond anger and into flat-out fury. “In that case, I don’t know who you are, Olivia. Because no daughter of mine would be so ungrateful as to jeopardize our entire family by pulling something like this.”

No daughter of mine echoed in my ears, even as part of me worried that he was right. Was I as unappreciative and entitled as he thought I was? Had I made a terrible mistake?

“Can’t you move beyond this stupid feud?” I said, fighting to keep my tone level. “It happened almost a century ago, for God’s sake. Theo wasn’t born when Grandma was kidnapped. His mom wasn’t even born. And our family got what we wanted. Grandma Ella came home. The Dresslers are the ones who lost a daughter. Can’t you be a little more empathetic?”

“No, I can’t.” My father’s voice was arctic. “How many times have I told you that blood will out? The same people who leveled those ridiculous accusations against our family are the ones who raised your new friend. Truth is irrelevant to them. Can you imagine the media firestorm if these baseless allegations were dragged into the light again? How would that reflect on us?”

“If the accusations are baseless,” I argued, “then why does it matter?”

“Really, Olivia?” It was my mother’s turn. “You know that, in your father’s line of work, image is as important as reality. The slightest hint of a scandal and gossipmongers will have a field day. Do you want to destroy your father’s career? Embarrass us in front of our friends and the charities we support? Perhaps it’s different for you, but appearances matter to us.”

“Why is it different for me, Mother?” I said, stung into voicing what I’d never dared to speak aloud before. “Because I’m not really a Carter-Brentwood? Because I come from poor white trash, and no matter how much you try to Eliza Doolittle me into one of you, it never quite turns out how you’d imagined?”

Her harsh intake of breath hissed across the line. “How can you say such a thing? Of course that’s not what I was insinuating. Once again, you’re making this all about you, in order to avoid taking responsibility for your actions. Quit throwing a pity party and grow up.”

Unbelievable. “I’m not taking responsibility for my actions? I’m the one who wants to find out what the hell really happened to Ella Carter!”

“Language, Olivia!” she scolded. “And we know what happened to her. Your feelings about your own background are no reason to drag your grandmother into a melodrama of your own making!”

My only response was a wordless shriek, muffled quickly so as not to wake Chloe up.

“Enough of this!” my father snapped. “Turning us against each other is exactly the tactic that vultures like the Dresslers try to employ. I’m not surprised he lied. What I am surprised about is that you went along with it.” He gave a snort of disgust. “How many years of school did we pay for? Twelve? For a straight-A student with a fancy PhD, you sure let yourself get suckered. I guess we wasted our money.”

I wondered when he’d begun to think that investing in me was a waste. Right from the start, when he brought home a baby with a pedigree unbefitting a Carter-Brentwood? Later, when my tastes ran to political protests rather than garden parties—not that I ever marched in any, for fear of their disapproval? Or right now, when all my years of postgraduate education, the accolades I’d won, and the clients I’d helped boiled down to being a fool?

“I’m sorry,” I said, forcing the apology past the lump in my throat. My voice was smaller than I wanted it to be. “I know it was wrong to bring him into Grandma’s house under false pretenses. I didn’t mean to hurt anyone.”

“It was beyond wrong.” My father’s voice was tight. “Hasn’t your grandmother suffered enough? Don’t you think she deserves a little peace?”

Keep it together, Olivia. “I know she hasn’t had it easy,” I said in my best I’m A Reasonable Therapist voice, ignoring the tears that scalded my eyes. My dad hated when I cried. He called it histrionics. If I stayed calm, maybe I could still fix this, figure out a way to pitch it so that he understood. “But on the off-chance Grandma Ella might really be Lily Dressler, maybe it would be amazing. A gift! Theo told me his grandmother—Lily’s older sister, who was with her right before she disappeared—is still alive. If there’s the slightest possibility we’re wrong, wouldn’t it be incredible to be able to reunite her with her family?”

“Christ, Olivia!” He was back to yelling again. “Use that big brain of yours. Most men my age are retired by now, you must know that. But I’m still working. Why do you think that is? Because it’s certainly not for my health!”