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She drew in a breath through her nose. “Your father may not love or be faithful to me, but I was never under the impression that things would be any different. I knew when I married him that his vows would mean nothing to him; that he didn’t love me. I also knew he’d be violent toward me. He hit me for the first time before we were even engaged.”

“Then why did you marry him?”

She turned to fully face me. “I came from nothing, Catalina. Nothing. My family is poorer than dirt, you know that. But you don’t know what it’s like to have so little, to only ever wear hand-me-down clothes, to go dumpster-surfing, to have people snub or overlook or sneer at you like you’re filth.

“You don’t know what it’s like to spend your childhood swearing you’ll escape but then, finally an adult, realizing that it isn’t so easy to get where you want to be. I had it in my head that I’d be a movie star—a silly dream that I’d developed as a child needing a little escapism. I was two paychecks away from being evicted when I met your father. He was my ticket out. And if I leave him, I’ll have nothing all over again—he’ll see to that.”

“You’re his wife. You’re legally entitled to half of everything he has.”

“There’s a prenup. If I cheat, I’m not entitled to one single cent. He’ll manufacture some false evidence to show that I was ‘unfaithful.’ He always finds a loophole.”

I flexed my fingers. “Icould give you money. You could stay with me. You wouldn’t be homeless or destitute. You could get a job, you could—”

“Go back to the life I had before, where I lived in fear that I’d lose my job and home?” she finished. “No, Catalina, I won’t do that. Not for anything. Not even for—” She cut herself off.

“Me and Julian,” I finished for her, sadness weighing on my shoulders—sadness for her, for our lack of a real mother-daughter bond, for my inability to convince her to leave Jorge. “So, for the credit cards and the designer clothes and the ladies luncheons and the shiny expensive jewelry … you’ll stay despite that he beats you when he pleases—including the times he’s aiming to keep me in line.” There had to be more to it than that, surely. No amount of pain and misery was worth—

“If you’d just do as he told you rather than being difficult …”

Whoa, wait, she was blamingmefor those beatings? She considered itmyfault he hurt her? “You can’t honestly hold me accountable.”

The doorbell rang, and she jumped slightly. “Another early bird, it would seem.” She left in a hurry.

I leaned back against the countertop, my chest hurting. I’d like to believe she’d only insinuated that the blame lay with me in an effort to shut down the line of conversation. But I knew better. I knew that she meant what she’d said. Maybe she believed it deep down, maybe she didn’t. But she clearly had no qualms with holding me responsible just the same.

Finally, she returned to the kitchen. “Now, can we talk of other things or perhaps nothing at all?”

“One last thing. I love you, Mom. I do. And though I can’t understand why financial comfort is more important to you than your own safety, I’m still not judging. I don’t live your life; it’s not for me to decide what choices you should make. But I can’t live a life wheremychoices are forever limited and controlled by Jorge, I just can’t. So if there ever comes a time when he asks too much of me or I’m expected to sacrifice my own happiness to protect you from him, I can’t promise I’ll do it.” She’d never done it for me, but I couldn’t begrudge her that. Not when I knew how unhappy she was and would always be.

With that, I turned back to the salad I’d been prepping.

Neither of us spoke again until she announced it was time that I headed to my father’s study to talk with him. I didn’t say anything. I simply left the kitchen and made my way to the study. My brisk nod earned a bid to enter.

I opened the door to find Jorge sitting behind his desk, his face an impassive mask. Julian and Marcos stood behind his chair. My brother’s eyes were harder than usual, and Marcos’s face was like thunder.

I frowned. What was their problem?

There were two others in the room. An unfamiliar male leaned against the wall, regarding me through eyes that held a mild trace of amusement. The second person sat in the chair opposite my father’s, so it wasn’t until I moved further into the room that I got a good look at him. My breath caught in my throat.

Danton. It was Danton.

Chapter Three

Icould only stare down at him, my lips parted. He couldnotbe here. He couldn’t be.

Danton’s dark eyes fixed on me with lethal accuracy, gleaming with intensity. “There you are.”

And there washe, evidently.

But why?

He sure as shit hadn’t ever come to my parents’ house before. These two particular crime bosses did not get along. As such, I highly doubted that this was a meeting about ‘business.’

My scalp prickled with unease as my eyes bounced from one male to the other. Nothing in their expressions gave anything away.

Sliding his gaze back to my father, Danton fluidly rose from his seat. “Remember what I said.”

What? What had he said? What in the hell was going on?

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