Page 55 of Brutal Truths

A slow, mischievous smirk spreads across Grams’s face as she pushes to her feet. “I think I’ll go find Teddy and see if he’ll pose for me.”

Unaware of what she means, Aiden slaps a hand over his heart and teases. “I’m deeply hurt, Alma. Truly. Am I not good enough to be your model?”

A giggle bubbles up inside me as I pick up my fork and take a bite of my blueberry pancake.

“I wasn’t sure you’d be comfortable posing,” Grams says, rubbing her hands together like she’s already picturing it.

“Why? What am I missing?” Aiden’s eyes flicker between us, suspicion creeping in as he tries to piece it together.

I stare down at my plate, focusing very hard on my food like it’s suddenly the most interesting thing in the world. One glance at his face and I’ll lose it.

But I don’t need to look. The way Grams studies him, her eyes roaming, says enough.

The second he figures it out…

“Are you fucking kidding me?” he mutters, voice dropping into something low and dangerous. “Alma… you cannot be suggesting what I think you’re suggesting.”

“How else would I paint you?” she counters, without missing a beat, meeting his gaze. “The models they gave us in art school were nice, but they didn’t hold a candle to the likes of you or your friends.”

I press my lips together.

Seeing Aiden struggle for words, I jump in, trying to redirect before this spirals any further. “How about we stick with something less risqué? A landscape, maybe. Or a still life. Do you remember when we visited the south of France? We sat on the mezzanine and you painted the most beautiful stretch of beach. Whatever happened to that?”

Grams tilts her head, searching for the answer. “I’m not sure. It might be in our storage unit, down in the basement with all my art supplies. Rico moved everything there after he found out what I’d been doing.”

Her voice softens, losing some of its spark. “Not that it mattered. I was too old to keep going. I’d lost my touch… and my eye for detail.”

What does that mean?

I file it away, already planning. The basement will be my second stop when we return to London. The first will be the private gallery.

I can’t believe all the paintings are gone. If my grandmother walks in and sees them missing, she’ll be devastated.

Who took them? And why?

The questions circle, unanswered, as Kimber walks in with Bear by her side. “Are you ready for our walk? How was breakfast?”

Kimber is Aiden’s sister, who’s married to Lane. She showed up the day after we arrived, Bear in tow. Because she regularly pops over to walk Bear when her brother is tied up with work, her presence there wouldn’t raise any eyebrows.

“Delicious as always.” Grams reaches down and pats Bear’s head. “Did you know I had a dog like this when I was a little girl?”

“I didn’t.” Kimber smiles, warm and easy, as she offers my grandmother her arm. “Why don’t you tell me about it while we walk and let Bear get some fresh air?”

Everyone has been amazing with her. Patient. Kind. And that matters because it’s not easy. Like most people living with this cruel disease, her moods shift with her confusion. One moment she’s sharp and angry, saying things she’d never allow herself to say if she were fully aware. The next, she’s breaking apart, crying uncontrollably because nothing makes sense. No one seems to hear her, and the people around her feel like strangers… including the reflection staring back at her.

The reason I can’t be angry with the woman she is now.

The woman she was? Maybe. But even that feels pointless. Nothing I learn will change what’s already happened. The past is fixed, and there’s no sense losing sleep over it.

And honestly, if what I’m starting to piece together is true, then the family I was adopted into gave me more than most people ever get. I couldn’t have picked a better one if I’d tried.

They love me. Took care of me when they didn’t have to. Provided me with a life of privilege others would envy. A family who won’t abandon me no matter what we learn.

I believe my brother’s words. I will always be Princess Isabel.

Nothing will change that.

“You okay?” Aiden’s hand settles against my back, grounding me, like he’s trying to keep me from slipping too far into my head.