Chapter 8
I answered Robert Jr. from Dad's phone.
YES.
Nothing else.
Mother lunged for it.
I stepped away.
“What are you doing?”
“Improvising.”
Her face twisted.
“You think this is a game?”
“No.”
I looked at Evan through the living-room doorway.
“That ended when you slapped him.”
The phone buzzed.
GOOD.
Then:
KEEP HER DOWNSTAIRS 20 MINUTES.
Emily read over my shoulder.
“What the hell does that mean?”
Mother went still.
Dad did too.
I looked at both.
“What happens in twenty minutes?”
No answer.
Another message.
CAR IS COMING FOR THE BOY.
Emily stared.
Mother closed her eyes.
I felt everything inside me become quiet.
Too quiet.
“What car?”
Dad whispered:
“Claire…”
I looked at him.
“What car?”
Mother stepped forward.
“He was supposed to stay at the lake house.”
“For how long?”
“Until you calmed down.”
I laughed.
“Stop saying that.”
She blinked.
“Every time you mean until Claire obeys, you say until Claire calms down.”
Mother's face hardened.
“Because you are emotional.”
I almost smiled.
“No.”
I held up the phone.
“I am reading your plan.”
Emily stared at Mother.
“You were sending Evan away.”
“Temporarily.”
“Without Claire.”
Mother snapped:
“Obviously without Claire.”
That shocked even Emily.
Mother saw it.
“What?”
Emily whispered:
“He's three.”
Mother rolled her eyes.
“And?”
The same word.
Always.
“He's attached to her.”
“That is exactly why.”
Silence.
Mother finally said the entire thing.
“If Evan stays with Claire, she fights.”
I stared.
“If Evan stays with us…”
She smiled.
“…she negotiates.”
There.
My son.
A hostage with softer vocabulary.
I looked at Dad.
“You agreed.”
He stared at the floor.
“Robert.”
“I thought she'd sign before any of this.”
“That makes it better?”
“No.”
At least he had stopped lying to himself.
Emily laughed bitterly.
“You were going to send him away and blame me for the stairs.”
Mother turned.
“You wanted command.”
Emily shouted:
“Not like this.”
Mother smiled cruelly.
“There is no clean way to take power, Emily.”
My sister went silent.
Because part of her still wanted it.
That was the difference between us.
She was horrified by the method.
Not the goal.
I looked at the message again.
CAR IS COMING FOR THE BOY.
I typed:
COME TO SIDE DRIVE.
Mother stared.
“What are you doing?”
“Letting them come.”
Dad stood.
“Claire.”
“If Robert Jr. wants my son, I want him inside my gate.”
Mother's face went pale.
“You don't know who is driving.”
“No.”
I looked at her.
“But you do.”
She said nothing.
I walked to the window.
A black SUV turned onto the street twelve minutes later.
Mother's breathing changed.
Emily saw it.
“So this is real.”
I almost laughed.
“What part was confusing?”
The SUV stopped at the side drive.
Two men got out.
Neither was Robert Jr.
One was a Bennett bodyguard I had dismissed seven months earlier.
The other—
I recognized.
Thomas Vale.
My late uncle Daniel's former driver.
Fifteen years older.
Same face.
My chest tightened.
Mother whispered:
“No.”
Interesting.
She hadn't expected him.
Neither had Dad.
The doorbell rang.
I looked at Mother.
“You know him.”
She said nothing.
Thomas knocked once.
Then called through the door:
“Claire Bennett.”
Not Dad.
Not Mother.
Me.
“I know what they did to Uncle Daniel.”
Every person in the dining room froze.
May you like
Then he added:
“And I know what they were going to do after they took Evan.”
