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The momentI’m out of view, I’m sprinting up the stairs, to my room, and bursting through the door on a strained breath, leaning against it as I shut it.
“Fuck!” I’m gasping, I don’t linger. I walk to the other side of the dresser that sits against the wall, heels digging into the ground as I push the piece of furniture toward the door.
Only a soft knock interrupts me and it opens without warning.
I stiffen as my fucking heart gets lodged in my throat.
“I don’t have much time.” It’s not Ryan… but his mother. I don’t feel any relief though, just a different type of tension. “He just took a call.”
I haven’t moved yet. In this house, I always expect traps… and Mrs Holt is never a good sign of anything. Only, the woman holds a tray with a small porcelain cup of steaming water, a tea bag and teaspoon on the side, and hands them to me. I frown, my mind racing, and reluctantly take the tray and set it on the bed.
“I need more than tea, Mrs Holt.” I hold her gaze in a tight grip. I don’t want her to look away, I don’t want her shrugging or brushing me off. “I need to get away from your fucking son! The man you raised into the savage he is.” I nod suggestively toward the stairs.
She blinks rapidly, taking in the insult and my crude words, trying to look away. But submitting to another woman doesn’t quite seem her nature.
“I… I didn’t do this.”
“Yeah. Just as my parents didn’t raise me as cattle to take to the market and sell to the highest bidder. Pathetic… But then again, I guess they had no say on how my personality turned out. Your son, though… he’s fucking certifiable.”
She shakes her head, finally breaking eye contact, her eyebrows strained in a frown. She mumbles something under her breath, and the woman I usually see at the other end of the dining room table flickers away.
“I don’t know how… who… I don’t know what happened to him.” She sighs.
There’s a tinge of defeat in her eyes. I’m not sure if it concerns her failed son, or her inability to stay strong in front of me.
Has she been holding on to hope?
Is she finally allowing herself to see the truth?
Sounds like me, not long ago.
“There’s something wrong with him. I can’t stop him.” Her voice lowers.
“Oh, fucking hell. No shit! What tipped you off?” My voice rises with every word and the woman steps forward, eyes wide.
“Please…” she whispers. “He’s only downstairs.”
“Then tell me why you’re here, and what your son really wants from me.” I don’t give a flying fuck about her regrets. This woman has never shown me an ounce of kindness all these years since I’ve known her.
“I’m not sure…”
“You’re a bad liar.” I step closer, right in her space, eye to eye. “What does your son want from me? I know his desire to take me as a wife has nothing to do with matters of the heart.”
She turns her head, listening for any movement or voices coming from downstairs.
“Some time ago, before my husband died, I found some files. Printed. I’m increasingly convinced that they did not belong to my husband,” she whispers hesitantly, still listening beyond the walls of this room. “I couldn’t look in great detail, but some of the files were quite complex in nature and others were documents.”
“Okay, so how does this pertain to me?” I frown, crossing my arms.
“Because they all bore your family name. All your names… yours, your brother’s, your mother’s, your father’s… they were all there. On bank statements, businesses, assets, contracts, deeds, birth and marriage certificates… everything.”
“And you think Ryan was gathering all that information about us?”
She nods, her attention half on me, half out the open door.
“What use could he have with that?” I understand the business documents. If I would involve myself in a significant business deal with someone new… I would probably check them out as well. But… birth certificates?
“I don’t know, but it was strange. All those documents in one place?”
