Page 59 of Secret Dynasty

“What if the authorities were right? What if your mother’s death wasn’t an accident?”

“Then hat means that I—”

“I’m not saying you killed her,” she cut me off.

“What are you saying?” I cried. Before she could respond a wave hit me from the side, crashed over me, and I swayed on my feet. Darkness tugged at the edge of my vision. Stumbling, I grabbed the bed to keep from falling. “Stop!”

“You saw it. You survived it.”

I turned pleading eyes on her.

But she delivered the final blow with deft precision. “What kind of a daughter leaves her mother to drown?”

The current pulled me under. Blackness swallowed me. I tried to fight it. Somewhere, in the distance, Eliza’s voice called to me, “Give in. You’re strong enough to face it.”

But I was drowning. I opened my mouth to tell her, and water rushed down my throat. It was too strong for me. I couldn’t see as the riptide pushed and pulled me under in the water’s onyx surface. Night had fallen early this evening, and the world was never darker than on open water. I tried to push myself up toward the air, but I bumped into something as soon as I kicked. Spinning with the little strength I had left, I spun to find my mother’s lifeless body. The whites of her eyes stared back at me with unseeing determination. I opened my mouth to scream and water burned in my lungs. I clamped it shut and grabbed hold of her around the waist. I wouldn’t die like this, but I wouldn’t leave her either. But she spasmed, her mouth snapping open. Bubbles escaped as she swallowed a mouthful of water. I lost hold of her as her eyes blinked. She was alive. There was still time. In the black water, she was a pale ghost, but she was alive. Her hand closed around my arm and I started to pull us up to safety.

But she resisted.

No, she fought me. My mother gripped my arm and dragged me deeper down.

Down.

Down.

Into the darkness.

Into the abyss.

Into nothing itself.

Instinct took over. I kicked my legs, lashing out and catching her in the chest with my foot. It was enough to break her hold, and she released me. Before she could grab me again, I pushed with all of my strength toward the surface.

Toward my life.

Toward the world.

Toward myself.

She sank beneath me, her white summer dress floating around her as she gave herself to the ocean. And as I broke through the waves, gasping for air, all I could see was the last glimpse of regret in her eyes.

Our vessel had drifted in the strong tide, and I found myself, bobbing up and down in the open water, midway between the shore and the yacht. I had to swim toward one. The yacht might be slightly closer, But I couldn’t bring myself to look at it. Not after what had happened. There was no safety in its direction, and I wanted to leave its memories unvisited. I didn’t want to remember laughing with my mother while drinking an illicit bottle of wine and listening to her sad stories of lost loves.

Going back to the yacht now would force me to relive those final moments. It would force me to accept the moment she wrapped her arms around me. I hugged her back and she held me tightly before she dragged us both over the side of the boat.

Chapter Thirty-Two

I crumbled to the ground, my hands scraping the Persian rug beneath me. I dug my nails into it, gripping it as though my life depended on it. The burning in my lungs vanished, and I gulped cool air. The ocean was gone, but my memories remained. I was back in my room in Sparrow Court, my wedding gown pooled around me, but I wasn’t any safer.

“Are you okay?” Eliza said soothingly as she knelt beside me. “You were yelling. I couldn’t understand half of it.”

I looked up at her, realizing the moisture on my face wasn’t from the water that had overtaken me, but my own tears. It had been a panic attack. I’d been here the whole time. Nothing about it, but the memories were real. “I know what happened,” I whispered. “It wasn’t me. I didn’t kill her. At least, not really.”

“You don’t have to tell me,” Eliza said.

But I was afraid it would slip away like a dream. I shook my head. “I want to while I can still remember it.”

I told her what I remembered. I told her about the flashes of memory that I’d had from the boat. How my mother had told me about the love she lost and warned me that someday someone would break my heart. “We were drinking wine. I didn’t think anything of it,” I said, startled to realize how blind I had been to my mother’s mood. “She never let me do things like that.”