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“Are you saying?” Heat rises to my cheeks as an icy chill settles into my gut.
“Your father knew she was alive and where she was the entire time. He put her there and turned his back on her, faking her death to take her away from her children.”
Chapter
Two
Athena
I pull into the long, curving driveway of a rundown Victorian manor. It was probably beautiful in its heyday, but I instantly hate everything about it. It’s like a decrepit, dirty version of the Olympus manor, our family home. I wonder if my mother picked them both, and they were to her taste and not my father’s. Or maybe he chose this place to make her feel like she was living in a lesser version of what she had?
Either way, it is a far cry from my sleek, modern penthouse in downtown Seattle. I live for the vibrant, clean, efficient vibe of the city. Not this slow, dusty, old-money energy of whatever HGTV show was about to show up and DIY this thing into this century.
I approach the door, each step creaking under my Jimmy Choos.
This is the Gothic monstrosity my mother hid in after she abandoned me? Why? What could this place possibly offer that is more important than me and her sons? Not that I will ever be able to find out. No mother-daughter union is in my future. She really is dead this time. Knocking on the door, I remind myself to be strong. To never show weakness. I am going to enter this house, maybe talk to a few people about my mother, see what information I can find. Maybe someone here knows why she left and remained hidden away this entire time.
“Yes, can I…” An older woman with gray hair tied in a tight bun and wearing a maid’s uniform opens the door and stares at me, her eyes getting enormous, then filling with tears. “Oh, you look just like—”
“I’m Athena Godwin. I was hoping I could speak to someone about Freya Godwin?”
“I’m sorry to say she passed.” The old woman’s eyes fill with tears even more. “You’re too late.”
I’m late?
I’m the one late?
Rather than correcting her, or losing my shit, I say, “Yes, I have heard of her passing. I was hoping I could speak to someone who knew her. I have a few questions about Freya that I would like to be answered.”
Dear Lord, I hope this isn’t the only person here I’m able to speak with. Only one maid who, by the looks of the dirt and cobwebs on the front porch, isn’t very good at her job.
“Oh, you should speak to her son. Come in, come in. I will fetch him for you.” She grabs my arm and pulls me into the house.
Her son?
What. The. Fuck?
Suddenly, I feel very self-conscious as we walk through the halls. It’s like my mother’s ghost is inside waiting. Her eyes on me are making my skin crawl, but I tighten my stomach and straighten my spine, just dealing with it. I have come here for answers, and I intend to get them.
“If you would like to take a seat in the library here.” The older woman places her hand on my elbow to guide me into the dusty room with bookshelves lining the walls and furniture made from wood and upholstered in velvet. “I’ll get Perseus.”
Without making a sound, she leaves the room. I have no idea what to do. This all feels so surreal. I feel like I am floating in a dream, and I am desperate to anchor myself to something real. Something in my life, not this weird alternate dimension where my mother was breathing only a month ago.
I grab my phone from my purse to call my father. I’m livid at his lies, but it’s not the first time he’s lied to me, and most definitely not the first time I’ve been pissed at the man. Maybe I can use that anger to center me.
“Athena. Where are you?” my father barks into the phone. “I’ve been looking for you all day.”
“Apparently, I am in the home of a ghost. You lied to me.”
“I don’t have time for your riddles.”
“Okay, I’ll be blunt, Daddy. I know you lied about my mother committing suicide when I was fifteen. I want to know why.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I’m in her house! Standing in her library! So, for once in your life, stop lying to me.”
There’s a pause. No doubt my father is regaining his composure before he speaks. He’d never respond until the pitter patter of his heart is back to normal cadence.
“I didn’t lie. Your mother no longer wanted to be a Godwin. She chose to leave our family, so she was dead to us. Dead. The Godwin legacy comes first. It’s bigger than all of us. You know that.”
