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“You’ll reinstate my allowance. We’re not children, remember. And fuck you.”
“If it’s beneath you to accept it, of course—”
“It’s my due.”
“I decide what is your due.”
“For now.”
“What the hell does that mean?”
He stares up at me, and it looks like he has something to say. But he bites it back, which is worrying in and of itself. Instead, he offers me his most charming smile. “South Cottage then. I’ll send you an invite for my housewarming once it’s inhabitable.”
“I can’t wait.”
I click my tongue and turn to ride away, then pause and glance back at him. “Oh, and you won’t ride Kentucky Lightning again. I’ve ordered you your own horse. My welcome home present. She’ll be here bright and early tomorrow.”
I don’t bother waiting for his reply before I ride back to the stable, where I take time tending to the horses. I’m hoping Mercedes will be asleep by the time I’m back, but as I near the house I see her light is on, and she’s standing at the window. She can’t see me, though. So I study her as she looks off into the distance while brushing out her long hair. And I swear I see a tear roll down her cheek.
But no, she wouldn’t be crying. She got what she wanted tonight. She wouldn’t be crying. She’d be celebrating.
32
Judge
I instruct Paolo to keep an eye on Theron as he moves out of my mother’s cottage and into his own. Mercedes is on strict watch as well. Her freedom has been curbed, and I know she’s pissed about it, but I don’t trust Theron. She’s left word with Lois that she needs to speak with me, but I haven’t seen her in four weeks. I go to work early. Get home late. Long after everyone has gone to bed. Because I can’t trust myself around her.
Paolo is one of the few people who knows what happened five years ago. He was here. Carried me to the car to drive me to the private clinic where my grandfather paid god knows what amount of money for my injuries to be treated. My life saved. Discreetly, of course.
I could have died in the back of the car. I wonder how he’d have covered that up.
My secretary left a few hours ago, and although I should be home, I’m still here, holed up in my office. I drink a long sip of scotch as I remember how it happened. It was Theron’s twenty-fifth birthday. The day he would have gained access to a large portion of his inheritance. My mother was at the house. That itself was rare. By then, my father was long gone. My grandfather had gone out of his way to prepare for the celebration.
Theron had sensed grandfather’s distance, his dislike of him, for years by then. I’m sure of it. I’d known the truth since I was sixteen. Ten years. I hadn’t realized what my grandfather was planning. I should have, maybe, but I didn’t. Maybe I’d stupidly thought he wouldn’t hold Theron responsible for his mother’s actions. Or naïvely thought he’d loved him.
I’d been away at school a lot those years, and when not at school, I traveled quite a bit. Perhaps I’d have known how far things had deteriorated if I'd been home.
Lois had prepared a special meal, and the four of us ate it in near silence, the tension almost a tangible thing. The papers would be signed after dinner. The funds released by morning. I still remembered when it had been me the year before. I remember the exhilaration of it. Independence, true independence, for the first time.
After dinner was cleared, the cake was set in the center of the table, the papers laid out, a fountain pen purchased for the occasion that Theron would keep laid on top, uncapped. I still had mine.
My mother may have suspected. I remember how anxious she’d looked.
My grandfather was overly jovial. Not himself.
And then he did it. He gave his speech about family, about duty, about blood, and handed Theron the pen.
I still remember Theron’s face before I couldn’t look at it any longer. It makes me sick to this day to think of the extent of my grandfather’s cruelty. Makes me sick to know he had a hand in creating the beast my brother has become.
Because as he read the words, as he saw the birth certificate naming his true biological father, as he saw the amount of money he would receive and the condition on which he’d receive it, I watched something snap in him. And as we stood there, a darkness surfaced from inside him. It expanded, touched the very edges of him.
Theron’s eyes landed on me while my grandfather explained that his inheritance, since he wasn’t truly blood, had been transferred to me. That he would receive a small portion of those funds with the agreement that he go away. That he leave the family. The grounds. The Society. That he’d be allowed to keep the name for the sake of appearances. And that he’d never show his face to my grandfather again.
But my grandfather miscalculated. He thought Theron weaker than he is. Thought he’d be easily bought. Manipulated. Cowed.
And before my eyes, my brother changed. As he watched me, he funneled his hate, and he became something different.
He never did sign anything. He came to me instead. He trusted me before that. We were supposed to be close.
