She looked down. “Better than this?” Her voice sounded uncharacteristically weak.
“Yes, better than this. Don’t try to play me. I’m not in the mood. You just dropped a fucking bomb on me at my husband’s funeral. We’re taking you home. Start talking.”
“Home? No, Victoria, I’m going to stay with you, to take care of you, to help you.”
The car began to move as a laugh rang from somewhere deep inside of me. “No fucking way. I need some peace and quiet. You’d better start talking. Your time is ticking.”
She swallowed and stared toward the window. “I understand how you may feel like we’re not close—”
“Fucking stop! We’re not. You never raised me or cared for me. When I was young, you shipped me off to other family while you lived in a fucking bottle. Then when you got clean and married Randall, you shipped Val and me off to boarding schools.”
“It was only because—” she began.
“Because looking at me upset you. I remind you too much of my father and my twin. Hell, I probably still do. I’ve heard it my whole damn life. I’m not rehashing it all, but you and Randall fucking sold me.”
“That’s not entirely true.”
My head snapped toward her. “Tell me, what part of that statement isn’t
entirely
true?”
She became suddenly obsessed with a piece of lint that desperately needed extrication from her dress. “It was a desperate situation. You don’t know what it’s like. You haven’t had to deal with things like—”
My patience was wearing thin. “Marilyn, you have about fifteen minutes until we reach your door. I’ll never forgive you for what you did to me. Don’t expect it. Move on.”
“Victoria, look at you. You’re a twenty-nine-year-old beautiful woman with more money than I can even imagine. So you married when you were young; things could be a lot worse. If Stewart hadn’t offered to marry you, things would have been much worse.”
Offered? Is that what he did or did he buy me?
“Really, mother? Worse for whom? For me or for you? And by the way, I’m twenty-eight. Keep waiting for that mother-of-the-year award. I’m sure it’s coming any day.”
“Victoria, hear me out. You said to try honesty. That’s what I want to do. Will you listen?”
There was something in her voice, something I didn’t recognize. I nodded.
She straightened her neck and began. “I loved your father—your biological father—like no one else I’ve ever loved.” She moved her gaze toward the window as her tone became whimsical. “Our romance was something like you read about in books. It was, for lack of a better word, intense. He was unlike anyone I’d ever known. We weren’t from the same kind of family. Neither of our parents approved of us being together.”
“Mother, you’ve mentioned Johnathon a handful of times in my entire life. Why was he at Stewart’s funeral?”
She looked at me, her gray eyes clouded with a veil of confusion. “No, Victoria. Not Johnathon. Carlisle.”
What the fuck? Carlisle?
Who the fuck was Carlisle?
My eyes opened wide in shock.
Would her fucking bombshells never stop?
I was speechless.
Marilyn’s gaze again went toward the window, momentarily mesmerized with the streets of Miami as building after building passed by. Finally, she continued, “It’s true that I never told you any of this. Part of the reason was that I blamed you for ruining our marriage, but…” Her stone-cold hand reached for mine, its touch sending shivers down my spine. “…I also didn’t tell you, because I wanted to protect you.”
“From what? I don’t understand.”
“Carlisle and I were young and madly in love. It was passionate and volatile. I don’t know if I’d wish that type of love on anyone. In hindsight, I can say it wasn’t healthy. At the time, it was all-consuming. Carlisle came from a different world. He overwhelmed me. Against both of our families’ wishes, we eloped. With mine, it meant we didn’t talk. His was different. He didn’t want to avoid them. He wanted to prove to them that he could be part of the family, the business, and follow his heart.”
She took a breath. “God, Victoria, this is so hard.”
Did she fucking want me to feel sorry for her?
“You’re telling me that this man, Carlisle, whom I’ve never heard of before was at my husband’s funeral?”
“Please, let me say what I need to say.”
I gestured with my hand, indicating for her to go on.
“Carlisle’s family was very male dominated. The only way for a woman to move up the hierarchy was to bear sons. For that reason, older women, like Carlisle’s grandmother, were respected. She didn’t like me. When we went to her, to tell her that we had married, she claimed that since we weren’t married in the church, we weren’t really married. She cursed our union and our children. Carlisle was the eldest son. It was his responsibility to have a son, someone to take over the family business. Though his grandmother wasn’t involved in the business, she was still revered by the family. Her curse was that we would never have children. You can imagine how excited we were when I became pregnant. It was a miracle. When the doctors told us that we were having twins, we were elated. Carlisle told his parents. At the time his younger brother was engaged. If Niccolo had the first son, the business would go to him.” She looked out the window. “It was a crazy and scary life. As you can imagine, the family business wasn’t legal.”
I nodded, wanting her to keep talking.
My mother’s expression darkened. “You know what happened with the pregnancy.” She gave me the familiar stare. “Carlisle blamed me.” Her gray eyes narrowed. “He also blamed you, and yes, I blamed you.
“When we learned that our son had died, Carlisle found himself in the position, or maybe I should say, with the opportunity, where he could back out of his commitment to me, to us. It was his chance at a fresh start. Like I said, in his world sons were of utmost importance.” She added, with noticeable sadness, “Women who couldn’t give those to their husbands were disposable. He was still young. If he abandoned us, he had a chance of fulfilling his destiny.”
“That’s ridiculous,” I interrupted. “The woman doesn’t determine the sex. Just because my twin died… you could still bear sons. You have, two.”
“Please, let me go on.”
I nodded.
“Though I begged him and I couldn’t imagine my life without him, he left us. After all, with his grandmother’s curse, there was no guarantee that I could give him the son he wanted. Months before you were born, he left us and had our marriage annulled. I fell apart. I’m not proud to say that I was ready to blame you for two deaths, your brother’s and mine. I was that close. I didn’t realize until later that my death before your birth was what his family wanted.
“Before you were born, I met Johnathon Conway. Johnathon knew enough about Carlisle’s family to know that I needed to get away. Johnathon and I moved up north and married. We stayed up there until after Val was born. Johnathon was a good man, but if I were honest with him or with myself… I never really loved him. My life was void without your father. There was a hole that no one could fill. Johnathon tried; however, instead of allowing him to do that I turned to alcohol. A little over a year after Val was born he left. He was a good man, but after a while he couldn’t handle having a drunk wife and two little girls. I came back to Florida, and tried to re-acclimate with my family. They tried to convince me to stop drinking.” She looked my way and back to the window. “I didn’t want help. Every time I looked at you, I saw Carlisle and thought about what could have been.
“After Johnathon divorced me, I spiraled even farther downward. It’s true: my mother and sisters cared for you when I couldn’t.”
Too much information
. My heart sank as I tried to make sense of her confession. “Johnathon Conway was Val’s father, but not mine?”
She looked down. “Valerie doesn’t know. She thinks you’re both Johnathon’s.”
Because that is what we’d been told.
“Please don’t tell her,” she pleaded. “Johnathon encouraged me to tell my family that he fathered both of you.” She looked down. “He really tried. I blamed you for the end of that marriage too. I mean, I drank because as you grew, you looked more and more like your father. I kept thinking that if only you had been the one to not survive. If only your brother had lived.”
That’s fucking great. Sorry to disappoint.
Seemingly unaware of how hurtful she was, Marilyn continued, “We’d already established a ruse about you. There was no sense denying it. According to everything we told people, you died. You were born two months prematurely and didn’t survive. Our story was that Johnathon and I conceived you on our wedding night.”
“I don’t understand what you’re saying.”
“Victoria, you are twenty-nine. Your birthday isn’t in May, it’s October ninth of the year before. You recently turned twenty-nine.”
“Why? Why would you do that?”
“It was Johnathon’s idea. In Carlisle’s mind he’d almost lost his place in the family business due to you. Making it seem like you were Johnathon’s and not Carlisle’s was to protect you. We had the date on your birth certificate changed. According to our story, the baby I was due to deliver in October never lived. She died just like her twin.”
I didn’t know what to say.
“There was more about your father, but with you and me out of the way, he made his way with another woman, one the family liked. The whole ordeal was a lot for me to handle,” Marilyn went on. “I didn’t do it well. As you know Randall saved me. You know that we met in group therapy. My addiction was alcohol and his was gambling. I’ve never drunk again, but Randall continued to fight his demons; however, even those weren’t what you thought.
“Your true identity would cause a major wrinkle in their finely constructed nobility. There were some people who would say that because you lived, Carlisle’s place within the family wasn’t secure. In their business, trust is essential. If it were determined that he’d lied about the identity of his firstborn, it could be the first string to unravel more than they wanted to reveal.”
My head ached as I tried to construct this family tree, one that as of an hour ago didn’t exist.
“Victoria, Carlisle’s family warned me to kill you before you were born. After Carlisle left me, Niccolo, his brother, came to see me. He told me to have an abortion. He even made me an appointment. Johnathon and I left town the day of that appointment.
“It was true that Randall owed the organization money. It wasn’t Carlisle’s family. It was another family, one who wanted to prove to the world that Carlisle’s family lied: to prove that he had a daughter before he had a son. Before you married Stewart, this other family ensured that Randall’s debt was insurmountable. They capitalized on his addiction and continued to offer him opportunities that never paid off. It wasn’t until they asked for you that we knew.”
“What? They asked specifically for me?”
She nodded her head. “I know I’ve never been a good mother, but I couldn’t do that. I couldn’t allow them to take you. When I was very young, I saw what happened to women, women who weren’t part of the family. If they had you, Carlisle’s daughter, they could prove that his family lied about you and they could use you.” Her eyes filled with tears. “I don’t even want to think about what they could have done to you.”
My mind was a blur.
Could any of this be true?
“How did Stewart become involved?”
Marilyn wiped her eyes and sniffed, before she continued, “Randall had met Stewart through his medical practice. There were rumors that the families that I’ve mentioned conducted some of their business through Harrington Spas and Suites.” She reached for my hand again. This time the cold didn’t even register. “I’m not insinuating that your husband was involved in illegal activities. What I’m saying is that he had power, power over some of the business that went on behind the scenes. Stewart Harrington was the only person we knew who could possibly have the kind of money that we needed to save you from those people.”
“How much Mother? How much did Stewart pay for me?”
“Victoria, you weren’t sold. You were saved.”
I sat straighter. “How much?”
“Over six million.”
My jaws ached, temples throbbed, and mouth dried. I reached for the water bottle and tried to drink, but, suddenly, the water tasted sour and my stomach threatened to revolt. “I can’t… I don’t even know what to say.”
“My dear, this is too much. The thing is, this isn’t all. There’s more. Please let me come to your apartment. We’re almost to my house. I need you to know everything.”
I shook my head. “Not today. I don’t think I can handle any more.”
She looked around at the street. Ignoring my plea for silence, she spoke fast. “When your husband paid Randall’s debt, the organization was upset. They thought they had this perfect plan Stewart foiled it. Randall said there were some rumblings of discontent, but then after you’d been married for a year or so, things seemed to settle down. During all of this, I did my best to distance myself from you. I hoped that they’d still believe you were truly a Conway.
“I can’t prove it, but I suspect that Randall’s accident wasn’t due to unpaid gambling debts. It was a warning to me: a reminder that I know too much. He did owe money, but comparatively it wasn’t that much.”
“I know Randall asked Stewart to cover it.”
Marilyn looked down. “I don’t blame you for saying no. I did at one time, but now I don’t. I’m not sure how long it would have been before they came back for more.” She looked down. “Randall wasn’t a bad man. He wasn’t.”
I couldn’t think about Randall being a good man. If he’d never gotten involved with the gambling, this never would have come about. Then again, would those people have found another way to me?
Me who?
I didn’t exist. I’d died. My mind spun. “So you’re telling me that my father, Carlisle, not Johnathon Conway, was at my husband’s funeral, and he’s part of some crime family? This sounds like a TV movie, not real life.”
“Yes, Victoria, that’s what I’m saying. Those TV movies come from somewhere. It’s real. As long as Stewart was alive he had power. Now I’m scared.”