chance to love the woman you’d chased after your entire life.”
Dragging my gaze between them, I asked, “Were you ever planning to tell me any of this?”
All three of their expressions fell, the truth that they’d never planned for me to know obvious.
Still, anger boiled inside of me. My stare locking on Franklin.
“Why did you all but demand I hurt Lisbeth when she came back? Why not encourage what you were supposedly after?”
His blank expression in place, his eyes were steady.
“Have you met yourself? Have you met Lisbeth? Both of you are as stubborn as mules. And I knew that you would do the exact opposite of anything I told you. You always do. I pushed you together by pretending to shove you apart.”
He had me there, but it still didn’t excuse the lies.
Gretchen spoke next, her voice concerned. “How will you tell Lisbeth about me? Will you admit all of it?”
Nodding my head, I tapped my fingers against the table.
“Lisbeth already knows she’s the rightful heir of the family. And we’ve both agreed to make changes. Obviously, those who came before us were too wrapped up in bullshit vanity to do the right thing. As for the first change, there will no longer be secrets. No lies. I suggest all of you prepare yourselves for what she decides to do with you. She’ll be making the decisions from now on.”
A look of concern flashed across my mother’s face. “And what about you?”
I grinned. “I’ll be the muscle behind whatever decision she makes. If anybody thinks to challenge her, they’ll have to get through me first.”
Threat made, I shoved away from the table and left the room without saying another word to them. I was too angry, too hurt. Too undecided about how I would tell Lisbeth the truth.
Needing fresh air, I stormed through the mansion slamming doors in my path, my steps a war drum against the floors.
The second I entered the courtyard, I fisted my hands and turned my face up to the sun. The heat of it helped to warm the cold chill of rage in my body, helped calm me down enough that I didn’t begin tearing walls down to destroy this house.
Wandering through the courtyard, I wove my way through the maze, enjoyed the solace of being alone, the sweet scent of blooming flowers. I reached the exit and stood staring out at the forest that bordered the mansion, my mind trapped in memories of the past and questions of the future.
So lost to thought, I’d missed the sound of Lisbeth walking up behind me.
“You look like you could use a friend right now.”
Turning to look at her, my eyes dropped to the white rose she spun between her fingers, my breath catching when she reached forward.
“I picked this for you.”
My mouth curled at the significance of the flower, at the story wrapped in so simple a phrase.
Taking it from her, I stared at the bloom, my eyes lifting to lock with two blue pools filled with the same heartache I had in mine.
“You deserve better than what I’ve given you.”
She laughed, rolling her eyes.
“I can say the same. We both have many apologies to make. But there are plenty of years ahead of us to accomplish it.”
Tucking the flower behind her ear, I cupped her cheeks and tipped her face to mine. My mouth brushed hers, my body becoming hard as hers grew soft.
Our foreheads pressed together, our voices a whisper of sound.
“I still plan to torture you. Lock you in the dungeon when I feel it’s necessary.”
A shiver coursed down her body. “You’ll have to catch me first.”
I growled in response to the implied challenge.
For over an hour, I’d struggled with how to tell her the truth, but now I knew there was no other way than to come out with it. Like ripping a bandage off, I had to shed the past so we could worry about the present.
“My mother is alive.”
She nodded, holding my stare. “I know. Will you forgive her?”
It would take time to get over the betrayal, but I knew I would eventually get past the anger and hurt.
“Yes. But you’ll need to forgive her as well.”
The skin between her eyes wrinkled in confusion. “Why?”
“She killed Katrina so that you would come back.”
Lisbeth’s eyes widened. “What? But my mom died in a car accident.”
Gripping my hands on her hips, I held her in place, concerned she would run at the next truth.
“Katrina wasn’t your mother.”
More shock tore through her,