Page 91 of One of Those Amnesia Stories

“Why did you make her work for you?”

She stared at me for a beat before a soft, incredulous laugh escaped her. “Oh, Cassian. Like I told you, I didn’t make her work. She barely did anything. She tossed out a few suggestions here and there, that’s all.” Her smile thinned. “You’re turning this into something it wasn’t.”

I felt heat creep beneath my skin. “Am I?”

“Yes. You are.” She lifted one hand in a careless little gesture. “She offered her opinion. I listened. That’s all that happened.”

My fingers curled against my palms.

“Then why didn’t you come to me?” I demanded, leaning forward. “If it was so innocent, why did you go behind my back?”

Her lips curved faintly. “I know how busy you get when you’re working, son. You’re exactly like your father.”

The comparison hit me with the force of a physical blow.

I wanted to snap back, to tell her she was wrong, to insist I was nothing like him. The protest rose so violently that my hand curled into a fist, my nails digging into my palm.

But the truth cut through me just as quickly.

Didn’t I do the same?

Didn’t I bury myself in work and leave my wife alone?

I forced the thought down before it could take root. I wasn’t going to let her use my own guilt to drag the conversation somewhere I didn’t want it to go.

I held her eyes. “Why did you go to my wife?”

Her expression sharpened. Irritation slipped through the pleasant facade she’d been wearing since I walked in, pulling the corners of her mouth into a thin line. She hadn’t expected me to turn the conversation back on her.

“I didn’t go to her, Cassian. You know I ran into her that first time.” Her voice sharpened around my name, defensive now. “And after that…” She lifted one shoulder, dismissing the rest with a small, careless motion. “It just continued. It’s not a crime to help your family.”

“Alessia is not your family.”

The words came out harsher than I intended, fueled by everything I had been holding back.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she shot back. “She’s your wife. Of course she’s my family.”

She won’t be my wife for long.

The thought left a deep, unwelcome ache behind.

I held her stare, every word sharpened by anger. “No. She is my family. She has never been, and will never be, anything of yours.”

Her face closed off, leaving nothing behind but cold restraint. “Cassian.” The warning in her voice was unmistakable. “Be very careful what you say next.”

“No!” The word tore out of me. I shoved myself to my feet so fast the chair scraped harshly across the floor. “No, Ma. I told you.” My voice ricocheted around the sterile room, too loud, too full of anger to contain. “I told you at the reception to never approach her. I told you that if you needed anything, you came to me. Only me. You promised.” My hands curled into fists at my sides. “I was against it from the beginning. Even the first time she helped you, I told you not to drag her into this. Alessia insisted. She wanted to help, and I gave in once because she asked me to.”

I stepped toward her, unable to keep myself still. “So why did you let it continue? Why didn’t you come to me? I’m the one who owes you. Me. Not her.” I pressed a hand against my chest, each word striking harder than the last. “You’re supposed to collect your debt from me. So I’m asking you again. What did you say to her? What did you do to make her keep working for you?”

The last trace of emotion left her face. She sat utterly still, her expression hard and unreadable.

Then she answered with a calm that cut deeper than shouting ever could.

“I didn’t approach her after the first time, Cassian. Your wife is the one who offered to help me. She came to me.”

The air left my lungs in a single, devastating rush.

What?