Chapter 10
Lydia stopped pretending after I showed her the pendant.
“That belonged to your mother.”
“I know.”
“She gave it to me.”
“No.”
I looked at Claire.
“She wore it when she threatened my pregnant wife.”
Lydia’s face changed.
Small.
Enough.
Claire sat beside me.
She told the story this time.
Lydia came to her apartment two days after Vincent.
Not angry.
Warm.
That was worse.
“She brought food.”
Of course.
Kindness first.
Then terms.
She told Claire the Bellrose family would always see her as an outsider.
She said Ella would grow up resented.
Whispered about.
Used.
Then she gave Claire the final choice.
Leave.
Or stay and watch everyone around Dominic treat her child like contamination.
I looked at Lydia.
“You threatened my daughter without saying her name.”
“I described reality.”
“No.”
Claire spoke.
“You promised to create it.”
Silence.
That was accurate.
Lydia had not predicted exclusion.
She would have enforced it.
She smiled faintly.
“You survived.”
Claire’s face hardened.
“So did Ella.”
“Yes.”
“And Sophie?”
Lydia looked away.
Interesting.
The second child bothered her more.
Why?
Because Sophie was born after Vincent died.
No longer part of the original plan.
A child created despite the separation.
Proof Claire and I had found each other even after they split us.
That made Sophie symbolic.
Dangerous.
I understood.
“You wanted proof she was mine because if she was…”
Lydia looked at me.
“If she was yours, then all of this had failed.”
There.
Not bloodline uncertainty.
Failure.
They separated us.
Still we found each other.
Even without recognition.
Even through fear.
Sophie existed because the story they built was incomplete.
My aunt hated that.
“Did you order Janice to keep Claire working nights?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Routine keeps people predictable.”
My body went cold.
Claire looked at her.
Lydia continued.
“Exhaustion keeps people from making impulsive choices.”
Like running.
Like finding me.
Like telling the truth.
Ella had been cleaning because her mother was too sick to finish.
Not accidental exploitation.
The final expression of a system designed to keep Claire too tired, too poor, and too afraid to move.
I looked at Lydia.
“You didn’t hide my family.”
She frowned.
May you like
“You built a life where hiding became their only way to survive.”
For the first time, she had no quick answer.
