“Amelia—”
“Don’t.” My voice was steady. Calm. “Don’t say my name.”
He took a step forward. “How did you—the parachute—”
“Yes. The parachute. The GPS tracker. The recordings of every conversation you’ve had for the last two months. The FBI agents who are very interested in talking to you about embezzlement, attempted murder, and fraud.” I kept my eyes on my mother. “But what I really want to know is why she’s involved.”
My mother sighed and stepped back from the door. “You’d better come in.”
The living room was sparse. A couch. A table. Nothing personal.
A temporary place. A hiding place.
Richard stood near the window, his hands shaking.
My mother sat down on the couch and folded her hands in her lap.
“How much did he pay you?” I asked her.
“Ten million. Once you were dead and the estate settled.”
The casual way she said it made my stomach turn.
“You sold your daughter’s life for ten million dollars.”
“You paid me two million to disappear,” my mother replied evenly. “I’m just negotiating a better price.”
I stared at her. This woman who’d given birth to me. Who’d walked out when I needed her most.
“Why?” The word came out broken. “What did I ever do to you?”
Something flickered in her eyes. Not regret. Not love.
Just cold calculation.
“Your father poisoned you against me,” she said. “He gave you everything. Made you his perfect little heir. And when he died, you had the nerve to pay me off like I was nothing.” Her voice hardened. “You want to know why I helped Richard? Because you deserve this.”
The words hung in the air.
Somewhere behind me, I heard Marcus enter the house, his footsteps careful.
But I couldn’t move.
I couldn’t breathe.
“I was sixteen,” I whispered. “I was sixteen years old, and you left me.”
“Your father had money. You were fine.”
“I wasn’t fine. I needed my mother.”
“And I needed a life that wasn’t about being David Hayes’s wife and your mother.” She stood up. “I’m not sorry, Amelia. I’m not sorry I left, and I’m not sorry I helped Richard. You’ve had everything handed to you. This was just evening the scales.”
Richard was backing toward the door now, his eyes darting between me and Marcus.
“You’re not leaving,” Marcus said quietly, blocking his path.
“Amelia, please—” Richard’s voice cracked. “I didn’t want to hurt you. I just—I needed—”
