The Rivals - Dylan Allen Page 0,376

a curse. Her midnight eyes glitter like exploding galaxies.

“Pops told us he was dead. Killed in the raid that set us free. And when that girl was arrested, the news reports said he was missing, and presumed dead.”

She grimaces with disgust and pinches the bridge of her nose. “Well, then we must assume that he is in fact alive. And we must find him. We’ll have to do it on our own, because we can’t be sure whoever helped him isn’t still on the police force.”

Fear and loathing coil in my stomach. I shake my head violently. “No, no, no, I can’t do that.” I never want to see him again. Not ever. “And if he isn’t dead, then where’s he been all these years?” The idea of him lurking in the shadows makes me dizzy with fright.

My mother grabs my shoulders and gives me a firm shake. I look up into her dark, terrifyingly cold eyes. “We need to be sure. I can handle that part of the plan. You need to focus on the rest.”

I look at her askance. “The rest of what?”

She continues talking, as if she didn’t hear me. “I need to find out more about these blue thunderbolts. Whatever he was a part of, we need to make sure it’s completely dismantled.” She claps her hands impatiently at me and rises to her feet. “We’ve got work to do. Why are you just sitting there like a bump on a log?”

“Because I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I shake my hands in exasperation.

She rolls her eyes impatiently. “Keep up, child. I’ll hunt for this man, and you must finally leave your husband.”

I choke on the shocked gasp the word hunt drew from me and do a double take at her. “What did you say?”

She rests her hands on her hips and purses her lips. “He got your nanny pregnant, didn’t he?”

My eyes bug out. “How do you know that?”

She gives me a look that says, “really?”

“Yes, he did. That was the last straw.”

“And you’ve been helping her. Why?” she asks, and my back stiffens at the disapproval in her voice.

“Because she’s young and scared, and she’s about to have a baby that will be a brother or sister to my children.”

She sighs. “You don’t need to be defensive. It’s just very different from what I would have done.”

My defenses come up even further. “I know it’s unconventional, but I don’t know what else to do. What would my children think of me if I sent her out into the world on her own? After all the things I’ve told them about being decent.”

“I wasn’t being critical. In fact, I’m in awe. I was faced with this myself. Gigi came here, pregnant and scared and we sent her away without any help. How different would all of this might have been if I’d had a fraction of your grace?”

My heart lodges in my throat. It’s the highest praise she’s ever given me.

“What would you have done if you hadn’t married Marcel?” she asks, taking me by surprise, again.

“I would have been a journalist.”

She frowns, her gaze considering, and then shakes her head. “Forget that. I know you had that poison pen thing. Thank God you’ve stopped, but that’s not real experience, so the doors to traditional careers are closed to you. I suggest you start a podcast,” she declares.

“Do you even know what that is?” I ask.

She lifts her chin, her smile turning smug. “I’ll have you know that I listen to True Crime Daily regularly. It’s fascinating. And from what I understand, you can do it from anywhere. You can be home with the children and have something on your own. Even if you don’t need the money, you must have something that is completely yours. Do you concur?” She looks at me expectantly.

I gaze at her in amazement. I feel like I’ve learned more about her in the last few minutes than I did in the eighteen years I shared a home with her. “Okay, I’ll look into it.”

“Good. When you’ve done that, you must find a way to atone for the wrong you feel you’ve done.”

I raise an eyebrow at her choice of words. “The wrong I feel? Don’t you think it was wrong of me to turn Rebecca away?”

Her expression is as inscrutable as always. “It doesn’t matter what I think. If you think so, then make it right, as far as you can. Then, let go of the guilt and