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"Let me explain—" she began, but I held up my hand. She didn't have anything to explain.
I told her everything.
When I was done, there was such disappointment on her face that I couldn't stand it.
"Felicia," she said, reaching out to me, and I let her enfold me in an embrace. She pulled back after a moment. "Did Anton know that your father lied to you?"
I didn't want to think about it. There was a good chance he hadn't. Except... except it was in the contract that my mother's medical expenses be covered. I had spoken to him about my mother's 'illness'. And he had encouraged me to talk to her.
Had he known?
"I don't know," I said. "I think you should go find a hotel."
For a long moment my mother watched me, and I had to suppress the urge to hug her again, to start crying into her cashmere sweater. I'd known for years that my father couldn't be trusted. How had I let him trick me like that? How stupid was I?
Don't talk to your mother. She doesn't want you to know. Fucking idiot.
My mother packed up her things from her room, then kissed me and wished me luck before departing. I knew she would go find my father and rip him to shreds, but no amount of vengeance could mend this.
I went up stairs, lay down on Anton's pristine white bed, and stared at the ceiling.
*
I was wide awake when he came home later that night. When he entered the room, he paused in the doorway, taking me in. I sat up and looked at him.
He watched me with hooded eyes. His shoulders hunched in a wary posture.
My father had surely told him what I had discovered. Now it was his turn to tell me what he'd known.
"Why did you marry me?" I asked him. I'd asked him this question before. Now I wanted a real answer.
But all he said was, "I wanted a wife."
"Did my father tell you he was lying to me to get me to marry you?" I asked. "Which one of you decided I should be the sacrifice? Was it him or you?"
Anton seemed to shrink. "It was him. He offered you up as a bargaining chip."
My eyes stung. "So you didn't want me?"
"I did. You were what tipped the scales."
He'd wanted me and he'd bought me. It was nothing I didn't know. But for some reason a lump of misery curdled in my stomach. "And my mother? Did you know she wasn't sick?"
Slowly, Anton nodded. “Your father told me of her addiction when we met. He said nothing of any illness.”
"When did you figure out that I thought I was helping my mother?"
Now it was Anton who looked sick. "The day after we were married," he said.
In my chest, my heart collapsed. Two weeks ago. He'd known for two weeks. A lump sat in my throat, too large to swallow around.
I stood up. “You lied to me.”
He was quiet for a moment. “I didn't know how to tell you,” he said finally. “I thought it was between you and your parents. I tried to get you to talk to your mother...”
“You said you wanted a companion,” I told him. “Is this how you treat someone who trusts you? You buy me, you realize I agreed under false pretenses, and then you don't tell me?”
He had no answer for that. The silence between us stretched out, and I wondered how many other things he hid from me. Why was he like this? What was his past? What was in his basement?
