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I abruptly stood. “What the hell is going on here?”
Ali waved the gun again. “Sit down, Amerie. Now.”
Zara watched me as I followed her husband’s order, brows knitted with faux sympathy. “We aren’t your family, Amerie,” she said. “We just arranged things so we could pretend we were. We have contacts who can help with things like that. Fake birth certificates, lawyers who are willing to overlook certain inconsistencies or anomalies, and so on.”
I couldn’t speak. I just sat there and stared, uncomprehending.
“Do you have any idea how hard it’s been for me to pretend that I used to be a filthy junkie?” Zara went on, upper lip curling. “As if I could ever be that stupid. That disgusting.”
I glared at her, bristling at the way she so casually insulted people with addictions. People like my father. It was like she didn’t even view them as real humans—people who might have psychological issues or people who might’ve made terrible mistakes and gone down a bad path in life. I didn’t think they were all completely blameless victims, but holy shit… Zara had zero compassion for them. Only sneering hatred.
“Why would you pretend to be my mother?” I asked in a hollow voice, hands twisting on my lap. “Why would you go to all that effort to fabricate documents and convince the caseworkers and family court judge that you wanted custody of me?”
Zara straightened her spine and elegantly crossed one leg over the other. “Have you ever heard this quote by Dostoyevsky before? ‘The best way to keep a prisoner from escaping is to make sure he never knows he’s in prison’.” She paused and smiled. “I find it quite apt for this situation.”
“So you’re saying I’m a prisoner?”
“Something like that.” Her smile faded. “Before I married Ali, my name was Zara Carruthers.”
A fierce chill gripped me. “So… Michael Carruthers was—”
“That’s right. He was my father,” Zara said, loudly cutting me off. The flickering orange light from the flaming torch reflected in her eyes, making them flash like she was possessed by a demonic force. “With all your poking around, I’m surprised you didn’t figure that out. I even showed you a photo of him once.”
“Grandpa Mickey,” I whispered. “Holy shit.”
All this time, I’d been living under the same roof as the daughter of Michael Carruthers, the man who bought me from my father.
I tried to catch my breath, but the air I sucked in seemed to be escaping my lungs. The crackling flames in front of me disappeared as I struggled to comprehend the new knowledge, and I felt my body beginning to shut down. Suddenly, everything went black, and I slipped off the stone bench.
“Grab her, Ali!” Zara said sharply. “She’s falling!”
Ali’s strong arms pulled me up before I crashed onto the ground. He helped me back onto the seat and stayed next to me, one arm wrapped around my waist to keep me upright. “You’re okay,” he said soothingly. “You just fainted for a second.”
“Perfectly normal,” Dr. Carmichael said. It was the first time she’d spoken all night. “It’s the shock. Just keep hold of her so she doesn’t hurt herself.”
My eyelids fluttered as I took a deep breath, feeling dizzy and disoriented. “Please… just tell me what’s going on,” I whispered.
“We’re trying to do that,” Zara said testily, forehead creasing. “Are you able to listen now?”
I took another deep breath and nodded. Ali moved his arm up to my shoulders to stop me from slumping or falling backward.
Zara stood and began to pace around the flaming torch. “First things first,” she said. “You wanted to know about the Rosmerta Society. I think it’s only fair we tell you, given how heavily involved you are.”
I nodded mutely.
“The society was formed by European settlers back in 1692, right here in Vanderwild Bay. The town itself was settled in 1676 by many of those same people. They were wealthy back in their home countries, but they wanted a chance to take new lands for themselves and prosper even further.”
“Sounds pretty greedy to me,” I muttered.
“Oh, shut up.” Zara waved a hand, eyes narrowing. “Anyway, the society was created by a group of likeminded families. They formed in part to support each other in their growth and success. People are stronger together, after all. Individualism is a real blight on the world.”
“It worked,” Ali cut in. “To this day, Vanderwild Bay has the highest number of billionaires per capita in the entire country. Entire generations of wealth from multiple families can be traced back to the original members of the Rosmerta Society.”
I let out a derisive snort. “Good for them.”
“Of course,” Zara went on, ignoring the interruption. “Money isn’t the only important thing in the world. Family is extremely important too. You’d know all about that, wouldn’t you? Given that you’ve never really had one.”
I bit my bottom lip, refusing to respond to the cutting jibe.
