Page 73 of Deposed

Blake snickered. “Do you remember getting thrown out for just talking to Emilia?”

“You must not touch the woman of Mr. Bachmann,” Henry mimicked in a thick, Russian accent.

I glanced up at the throng of people leaving the royal academy. A few photographers stood on the edges of the red carpet, politely taking photos of the leaving guests. It was nothing like the feeding frenzy I’d endured with Blake in Kensington Town Hall.

One of the guests, a blonde woman sashaying down the red carpet, caught my eye. She stood six-feet tall, wearing the kind of magenta tuxedo dress Mrs. Simpson-West would die for… if only she had the height. Its silk collar and lapels shimmered in the light of the camera flashes.

Just before she entered her car, I glanced at her face, and a boulder of shock hit me through the gut.

“M-mom?”

“Stop the car,” said Edward into the intercom.

The limo slowed, but before it stopped, I opened the door and stumbled out.

“Emilia!” someone snarled from the limo.

I ran alongside the row of parked cars, heart racing, my eyes fixed on Mom’s car. Her Bentley pulled out from the space, and I ran in the middle of the road, not giving him the chance to overtake me.

“Fuck, Emilia!” shouted Blake from behind.

The car stopped, and I placed my hands on its warm bumper, scrambled around its perimeter, and pounded on the back door.

“What are you doing?” said the stern voice of the driver.

“It’s alright.” Mom stepped out and beamed. “That’s my daughter.”

Blake grabbed my shoulder. “You could have gotten yourself killed!”

Mom rushed forward and wrapped me into a Chanel Number Five-scented hug. My arms hung lifelessly at my sides. How could she act so warm after ignoring me for three terms?

“It’s so wonderful to see you,” she murmured into my ear. “I know you’re busy, but it means so much to me that you changed your mind about coming to London.” She drew back and beamed, her gray eyes twinkling with mischief. “Is this Charles? I don’t know why you refused to send me a photo. He’s gorgeous!”

“Ummm…” Where did she get that name? I exchanged a confused glance with Blake and made introductions. My mind whirred with possibilities. Mom’s eyes were as sharp as ever, so I could rule out drugs. Henry and Edward strolled over, and I introduced them to Mom.

Her brows drew together. “You never mentioned any of these handsome devils in your texts!”

My thoughts jumped to Edward’s father, and my throat closed up. A car beeped as it overtook the Bentley and beeped again as it overtook Edward’s limo.

“L-let’s continue this conversation on the sidewalk,” I said.

We all moved out of the road, and the boys surrounded me like bodyguards. An idea formed in my head that would explain Mom’s strange behavior, but it was too heinous to voice… Yet. I kept her talking, trying to eke out what had happened on her end.

She told me we had texted each other daily, and I updated her with my heavy workload at Mercia Academy but had refused to send her any pictures of myself and my friends. I hadn’t received a single text from her, and hadn’t told her anything about my life at the academy, so who the fuck impersonated me and gave her all these bogus facts?

“I know what’s happened.” The words tumbled out of my mouth before I could stop them.

Mom’s head tilted to the side. “What are you talking about, darling?”

My mouth opened and closed, and I stared into her smoky eyes. Mom overreacted all the time. If I told her tonight, she would probably confront Rudolph, and one of two things would happen. Either Rudolph would arrange for Mom or me to get hurt, or he would twist facts around to make me look like a psycho jealous of her own mother’s happiness.

Cold fury filled my veins, and I paused, needing time to work out how much Rudolph had done to Mom and me over the last nine months, and how I could pay him back for everything I'd suffered.

Mom’s smile faltered. “Darling?”

“It's been a strenuous few hours.” I gestured at the boys who still stood behind me like a human shield. “Hey, Mom?”

“Yes, dear?”