Chapter 5
Amabel cried when I brought Julian home.
Not delicately.
Not beautifully.
She folded around him.
Six weeks of exhaustion and three days of terror finally broke through.
I left them alone.
That was not my moment.
Later, when Julian slept, Amabel found me in the library.
“Thank you.”
I looked at her.
“No.”
She frowned.
“You don’t thank me for returning your own child.”
Her eyes filled again.
Then:
“I should have told you.”
“Yes.”
No lie.
No automatic comfort.
“Why didn’t you?”
She sat.
For months Celestine had been telling her I would reject the child.
That I planned to marry into power.
That an illegitimate baby born to a maid would embarrass me.
That I might take Julian away and send Amabel elsewhere.
“She said men like you don’t share children.”
I almost laughed.
“Men like me?”
“Mafia bosses.”
Fair stereotype.
Then Celestine used something real.
After our night together, I never contacted Amabel personally.
I returned to business.
Then started seeing Celestine months later.
To Amabel, it looked like confirmation.
She thought I regretted everything.
I had not.
I simply assumed she wanted distance.
My mistake.
Silence allowed Celestine to narrate me.
That mattered.
“What did Arthur offer you?”
Amabel looked ashamed.
“Money.”
“How much?”
“Enough to leave.”
“Did you take it?”
“No.”
Good.
Then:
“He said if I stayed, Celestine would lose you and blame me forever.”
There.
Family guilt.
Amabel had spent her entire life being told her older sister sacrificed for her.
School.
Jobs.
Housing.
Every kindness remembered as debt.
So when Julian threatened Celestine’s engagement, Amabel believed she was once again costing her sister something.
I understood the trap.
Celestine did not need chains.
She had history.
Amabel whispered:
“I thought if I disappeared after he was born, maybe everyone would be okay.”
I looked at her.
“Except you.”
She said nothing.
“And Julian.”
May you like
Her face crumpled.
Exactly.
