Chapter 15
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Lily
I blow my hair away from my face as I finally come up for air from the mountain of paperwork swallowing my desk. With the looming trip to Monaco, I need this cleared so I can breathe while I’m away.
“Roxy!” I call, my voice tight from disuse.
She appears in the doorway instantly, like she sensed my breaking point.
“Wanna grab coffee? I’m bored out of my mind here.”
She rolls her green eyes, crossing her arms. “Well, perhaps if you let me help…”
I shake my head, fingers already rubbing at the ache forming at the base of my skull. “You want to look through a year of accounts?”
She frowns. “Don’t you pay someone to deal with that shit?”
I nod, tapping my nails against the wood in a restless rhythm. “Yes. But they still need something to actually report. And for some reason, I thought a paper trail was safer than emails. I was wrong.”
My gaze drops to the papers spilling across the desk like evidence of my own stubbornness.
Never again.
“I could organize them, maybe? Month by month? Toss out those designer bag receipts?” She asks, she’s always keen to help.
A soft laugh slips out of me. “Yeah. I gotta stop buying them.”
I push myself up, rolling my shoulders, stretching my neck until it pops. My body feels tight, coiled, like it’s been bracing for something all morning without me realizing why.
“Shall we go get a massage too?” I grin. “My treat.”
Her eyes light up. “Oh my god, yes. There’s a new place that just opened. I’ll see if they have an appointment.”
“You call them. I’ll go lock up the front.”
I close my office door and step into the main gallery, my pace slowing instinctively. The space wraps around me. A gothic dream brought to life. Silver skulls designed by hand. Skeleton hands holding candles along the walls. Every detail is intentional. Every inch earned.
This place is mine.
I breathe it in.
Oh. The crystals need to go out tonight. They need a recharge as much as I do.
As I reach the front doors, something makes me pause. A shadow on the other side of the glass where there shouldn’t be one.
My fingers curl around the handle as I pull the door open slowly.
And freeze.
“Mom?” I whisper.
I haven’t seen her since the last time I danced.
She looks different. More polished. More put together. But there’s something off. Her blonde hair drains the color from her face instead of brightening it. Her cheeks are hollow. Drawn too tight over bone. She’s aged, but not gracefully, like time was unkind because she deserved it.
She smiles, pushing her oversized glasses up onto her head.
“Lily.” The guilt in her voice hits first.
I take a step back. “No. You don’t get to do this, Mom.”
My voice shakes despite myself.
I don’t slam the door. I don’t know why I can’t.
“Lily, please. I just wanted to see my little girl.” Her voice breaks.
Her eyes track down me, as if she’s waiting to pass judgment on my outfit.
A bitter scoff tears out of me. My throat tightens as tears threaten. “Like you give a fuck. You haven’t cared about me since the second we landed here. You’re lucky, Hallie and her dad took me in.”
She shakes her head, stepping closer, and my skin prickles in warning.
“No. You aren’t welcome in my solace.” I lift my hand between us, palm out. “I haven’t seen you since…”
The word lodges in my chest. I swallow hard, my stomach rolling. “What do you want? Another husband to introduce me to? Is he going to try to rape me, too?”
The words scorch on the way out.
She flinches like I struck her. “I couldn’t stop him. He hurt me, too.” She whispers, glancing down at the floor too.
My first thought is that she's lying. That night, before the show started, she was happy to parade him around like he was a God. That we should all be grateful he was there.
A laugh rips out of me, and my fingers curl into fists at my sides. “So you thought, what a lovely man to introduce to my daughter. What a man to let out of my sight while she’s getting changed. A great guy who locks the door and ties—”
“Stop!” she screams, slamming her hands over her ears.
“You don’t want to hear it,” I snarl. “I have to see it every time I close my fucking eyes.”
My chest burns. My pulse pounds in my throat.
“You walk into the place I built, the only place I’ve ever felt safe, and what? Apologize? Too fucking late.” I seethe.
Tears spill down her cheeks. “H-he died that night.”
I might hit her.
“Good.” My voice goes ice cold. “I hope it was fucking painful.”
The air between us vibrates. Wind brushes my flushed cheek, sharp against the heat radiating from my skin. “Leave, Mom. I’m doing just fine without you.”
She steps back, and relief loosens something in my ribs. Then she holds out a card for a cleaning company in Ohio.
“Are you still dancing around with that stupid cult?” I ask, throwing the card behind me without looking.
Her jaw tightens. “It wasn’t stupid. It gave me purpose.”
I scoff. “And being a mom didn’t?”
Silence answers me. Just like I thought. “Why did you even bring me here if you didn’t want me?”
She shoves her hand into her coat pocket. “You’ve had a good life. Nice gallery. Nice home.”
“Sure.”
“If you change your mind. Maybe lunch. I’ll be staying a couple of hours away for a few weeks. Call the number on that card.” She sounds so weak. So sad. Like she’s defeated.
My stomach drops. “Doubtful,” I say flatly. “But thanks for checking I’m alive.”
I smile. It feels wrong on my face. She doesn’t even deserve fake smiles from me.
As I move to close the door, she presses her hand against it. “I really am sorry, Lily.”
For a split second, it almost sounds real.
Five years too late.
“Can’t change the past,” I mutter.
I slam the door and lock it.
My back slides down the glass until I’m sitting on the floor, knees pulled in, hands covering my face as the sound finally breaks free.
I break down in a full-body sob. Rage and devastation are tangling so tight I can’t tell them apart.
Roxy’s arms wrap around me, but I barely register it.
My mother’s words echo in my head.
He’s dead.
He can’t hurt me.
And that brings me a quiet, terrible kind of peace.
I remember the gunshot. The scream. The not knowing. The years of wondering if he lived.
It’s haunted me.
And now, finally, that part of the nightmare is over.
My abuser is dead.
And the man who saved me made sure of it.