Chapter 6
Margaret arrived that night.
Not because I asked kindly.
Because I told her the truth was already open and she could explain herself in front of it.
She saw Lila from across the room.
Stopped.
Lila hid behind Lucy.
That mattered.
My mother had visited her enough to be recognized.
Not trusted.
“Grandma,” Lucy said.
Lila said nothing.
I looked at Margaret.
“How often?”
“Every few months.”
My chest tightened.
Three years.
Birthdays.
Holidays.
She had looked at me across dining tables knowing one granddaughter lived hidden elsewhere.
“Why?”
Margaret sat slowly.
“Your father.”
I almost laughed.
He had been dead nine years.
Still blamed.
She explained.
When my father ruled Harrington, twins were considered dangerous to succession.
Not superstition.
Politics.
Two same-age heirs create factions.
Families choose.
Captains choose.
Future husbands choose.
Rivalries form before children understand any of it.
My father had seen it once in another branch and hated the chaos.
So when Elena gave birth to twin girls, Margaret panicked.
Not because girls could not inherit.
In our family, they could.
Because two daughters meant two future centers around Luca.
Unless one disappeared from the line.
I stared.
“You’re telling me this started because you were afraid of political factions around newborns?”
Margaret’s voice stayed calm.
“Not newborns. Women they would become.”
Monster logic dressed as foresight.
“You told Imogen to keep Lila.”
“Yes.”
There.
No tears.
Not yet.
“You told me she died.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because grief ends questions faster than uncertainty.”
The room went cold.
Even Imogen looked at her mother differently.
So Imogen initiated the lie.
Margaret institutionalized it.
Turned panic into policy.
Colin maintained it.
Then Lila grew.
At some point returning her became politically inconvenient too.
Margaret believed Lucy would become my sole acknowledged heir.
Lila could be raised quietly, safely, outside succession.
“What future did you plan for her?”
Margaret answered:
“A good one.”
Not enough.
“Where?”
“Europe eventually.”
Away.
Invisible.
Comfortable prison.
Then Lila spoke from behind Lucy.
“I don’t want Europe.”
Margaret looked at her.
First time directly.
Lila whispered:
May you like
“I want Daddy.”
That was the sentence my mother could not answer.
