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There’s no longer a space for you here, I want to tell him. When Graham ceded his right to the Empire as first born, it became my burden to bear. And I bore it without complaint. If he comes back, I won’t be heir anymore. I’ll go back to being the second son with no birthright. I don’t want that.
I’ve already set my sights on breathing life back into the Empire as the leader, not second-in-command.
“You have a daughter,” I say. “And Ivy. If you come back to the UK, you’re a dead man.” My head starts spinning a bit with all the possibilities, so I try to anchor myself to what this conversation is really about. “You’ve already done your part with finding Mum’s killer. I can handle the rest.”
Graham doesn’t immediately respond. Does he feel the tension too? I would rather not discuss my feelings on his return if I can help it. Fortunately, he doesn’t press the issue—instead, he launches into ideas.
We spend the next few minutes discussing possible strategies for drawing Michel out of the woodwork—starting with that address he sent Alize. I let him think he’ll be involved, even though I know I’ll be handling this by myself.
Michel is a fugitive of the Kingmaker Society. If I bring them his head, it’s likely I’ll be inducted on the spot. The more Graham and I talk, though, the more it becomes obvious that he’s right—I do need to talk to Alize about what I’ve discovered. I’ll need help if I want to pull this off cleanly.
I’m just not sure what’s the best way to tell her I need her help to kill her father.
TWENTY-TWO
ALIZE
Deep breaths,Alize.
The shower’s ice cold, but it does little for the rage kindling beneath my skin. I’m hot all over—from the tips of my fingers to the soles of my feet—and blindingly angry.
There’s no way feeling like this is good for the baby.
Wrapping my hands around my middle, I walk back until my skin hits the cold marble of the shower stall. It could be my mind, or the pounds of cheesecake I had just a few hours earlier, but my stomach already feels bigger than yesterday.
“I still haven’t told him about you,” I mutter, hugging my stomach tighter. “I keep thinking that I will, that I just need to muster the courage.” Clenching my teeth, I think of the last interaction I had with Alexander. “This whole thing with us right now must be karma for not telling him as soon as I was sure.”
I sink to the floor, hugging my legs as close to my body as they’ll go. “If I can’t even find the courage to tell him about you, how the fuck am I going to handle being your mom?”
My hand snaps to my mouth. “Sorry. I probably shouldn’t swear around you either. That’s a bad habit to pick up so early.” A chuckle escapes me and with it comes another feeling. It’s golden, starting in my chest and spreading outward. It’s warm, like the sun’s gentle kiss on a midsummer day—it feels a little like hope.
For the first time since I found out about the baby, I imagine myself as a mother–arealone. I’ll be responsible for keeping another human alive—they’ll look up to me, and it will be my job to protect them from everything. Not just actual threats like electrical sockets and busy roadways, but from colds and broken bones andsadness.
“It’s a big job,” I say. “Lots of responsibilities.” As I sit there, talking to them, I wonder if they know I’m their mom. When I googled it, the results said that my baby would be around the size of a plum by now. They would be fully formed and moving around, though I wouldn’t be able to feel it.
“I hope you like my voice,” I say, with a giggle. “You’re going to hear a lot of it over the next few months. Well, for the rest of your life, really.” My eyes feel damp, and it’s not from the spray of the showerhead. “It would suck if you hated your mom’s voice.”
I don’t even know what my mom’s voice was like. I know so little about her—but the parts of me that are nothing like my father, I must have gotten from her. When I try to imagine her, I think of a kind, gentle woman—after all, only a woman like that could see the good in someone like my father. It was fate’s cruel way of rewarding her that she died giving birth to me.
A bubble of panic pops in my chest.
I want to give my baby the best—and the best thing I could ever give them is a stable home, something I never had. I want them to have friends, to have the freedom to socialize, and a chance atnormalcy.
“Everything will be okay,” I say. I’m talking to the baby, but it’s for me too. “I’ll make sure of it. We’ll both be okay.”
I’m just not sure how yet.
The gun with a few bullets I found after searching the room earlier is a start, however. My cherry red glock is still somewhere in Alexander’s car, and I have no idea where he is right now.
I’m not completely defenseless.
I spend a few more minutes in the shower until the cold water starts feeling too cold. After toweling myself dry and attempting my skincare routine to calm my nerves, I change into my night clothes and head back into the bedroom.
It’s a dark night out. Thick clouds cover the moon. The only light in the room comes from the wireless phone charger on the nightstand.
There’s a strange shadow in the corner of the room, by the sitting area.
“Alexander?” I ask with a heavy tongue.
