Page 103 of Road to Redemption

This wasn’t where I thought she was going, not at all the words I next thought would leave her mouth.

Before my mind would even catch up, something more harrowing left my mother’s lips. “I’m marrying Isaac Dumont!”

54

KIERA

All I could do was blink, trying to force the words to compute. But Maura had no patience for my slack-jawed silence.

“...Aren’t you going to say congratulations?” she sucked her teeth as she leaned back in her seat.

“I need a second,” I murmured, pinching the bridge of my nose. “When the fuck did you even start dating Isaac?”

Crossing her arms, she leaned back in her seat with a dismissive glare. “I mean, I’ve been trying to get in contact with you for months. I told you I had something important to discuss with you. Don’t know how much more explicit I could have been without ruining the surprise,”

“You can’t do this,” I shook my head.

“Kiera! How could you say that!” She scoffed, lowering her voice as she leaned closer to the table. “I understand why you’re upset, but this is no way for a young lady to behave…”

“You do?”

“Of course I do!” She hissed, glancing over her shoulder with narrowed eyes. “I know that he was your father’s best friend. And that must be odd for you. But it’s been a very long time since Brennan passed. I think it’s time you let it go. I think you’ll find that having a new father around will be good for you!”

My jaw nearly hit the table. And though a laugh bubbled up from my chest, there was nothing but white hot rage coursing through my veins. “That’s not what I’m upset about, you psycho. And that monster will never be a father to me.”

Maura rolled her eyes. “Well now you’re just being dramatic. I don’t know why I expected any better from you.”

“Ditto,” I spat, planting my palms on the table. “Do you even know what Isaac has done?”

“What do you know about Isaac?” she laughed, “You were a kid when you knew him.”

“Which makes it all the worse.”

At that, dark recognition flickered in her eyes — a horrible question tugged at the edge of her mind, but she shoved it away before the horror could take hold. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“He—”

“Don’t.” Her voice dropped an octave, and though her lips were pulled into a tight line, the flicker of fear in her eyes was desperate, pleading.

She was so afraid of the truth — always had been. But that was because she’d never been brave enough to face it. The truth made the treatment she’d endured, the men she’d chosen, just a little bit easier to swallow.

For her, avoidance was a matter of life and death. But if I could make her look at it, make her listen to those horrible stories and hold her hand through it, maybe there was still hope to break her out of it.

“He tried to traffick me, Mom.” The words burned as they slid past my throat. I wasn’t sure that I’d ever said it out loud. “I was twelve, and he took money from Keith Cortes in exchange for a night with me one summer. Probably would have arranged more if all went well.

“But it wasn’t just me,” I shook my head, surprised to feel tears streaming down my cheeks. “He’s been doing it for decades: targeting vulnerable women, and then vulnerable children. Using the technology Dad created for Zeus in order to fund his operation, identify potential victims, cover his own tracks…

“And when Dad tried to stop him… Isaac killed him.” I paused, searching her blank expression for some hint of understanding. Her eyes stayed glued to the table. “He’s a monster, Mom. Like, truly heinous, doesn’t have a soul, scum of the Earth kind of bad. And for whatever else we disagree on… you deserve better than him.”

Silence pulled up a seat, settling at the table like a curious spectator to our conversation. I sat, waiting for her to say something, hoping to catch her eyes and see something click.

But when my mother finally looked up at me, her lips were pulled into a tight, placating smile. She cleared her throat as she adjusted her coat. “You always did have quite the imagination, Kiera.”

“...Are you serious?” My voice cracked, collapsing under the force of my tightening throat.

“Then again, I can’t say it’s all your fault,” she shook her head. “The media, they create such nasty stories. Any jealous, spiteful person is allowed to spread libel as long as it gets the outlet more clicks.”

“The media won’t even cover this,” I shook my head, hoping to clank enough brain cells together to parse through what she was saying. “The journalists are all too worried Issac will kill them or sue them into oblivion if they say anything.”