13. Charly #2
“Because the last time we spoke I called you a liar and told you to get out of my dressing room.” Her voice cracks. “And then I married him anyway. After everything you showed me, I still married him. I didn’t think I had the right to need you after that.”
“You probably didn’t.” I say it flat, honest, and it sits there for a second. “But I would’ve come anyway. For the baby. I would’ve come for her.”
“Nobody deserves to drive themselves to a hospital alone.”
“Maybe not. Nobody teaches you what to do in this kind of situation.” I pull at a blade of grass and don’t look at the little marker.
My eyes burn. I blink it back, because I will not lose it up here in front of her.
“The flowers.” She wipes under her eyes with the back of her hand. “When they showed up I just stood there holding them and I kept thinking, she still thinks about me. After everything I did, she still sent white lilies because she knows I hate pink.”
“Of course I know you hate pink. We shared a womb, Rebecca.”
She laughs. Wet and broken and real, and God help me, I’ve missed the sound of it.
“I need to tell you a thing,” she says, sitting back on her heels.
“And I’m not telling you this to win points or because I want credit.
I’m telling you because I’ve been lying in bed for two weeks listening to my husband make phone calls through the wall and I can’t keep pretending I don’t hear what he’s saying. ”
“What calls?” I go still.
“He’s been calling everyone who matters to Clarence.
The artists, the old friends, the people who’ve stood by him for years.
Telling them Clarence is unstable. That being near him right now is a risk.
Turning them against him one phone call at a time.
” She looks me dead in the eye. “He’s been doing it for weeks, Charly.
Since before the gala. Kara Whitfield, the woman who practically adores Clarence?
He got to her personally. Told her there was a scandal about to break, that she didn’t want her name anywhere near a Carrington when it did.
And she believed him, because why wouldn’t she. ”
My stomach drops.
“How long have you known?”
“Since the beginning.” She doesn’t look away.
“I heard the first call about a month ago. I was pregnant and terrified. I told myself it wasn’t my business.
I told myself Clarence could handle it, that Adam was just venting, that it wouldn’t actually work.
But I didn’t say anything earlier because I didn’t want to go against Adam and I couldn’t afford to go against him while I was carrying his baby.
” She stops. Swallows hard. “The baby’s gone now.
And the reasons I had for staying quiet went with her. So here I am.”
“How many donors?”
“At least six people I know of. He’s got it all worked out, who’s close to Clarence, who isn’t, who’ll believe a whisper without picking up the phone to check.
He starts with the ones on the edges, the ones who already half-bought the story that the family’s a mess.
Peels them off one by one before Clarence even knows they’re gone. ”
“He’s a fucking psycho.” It comes out before I can soften it.
“Welcome to my marriage.” Her hands twist together in her lap, shaking. “I’m not asking for forgiveness, Charly. I’m not asking for anything. But Clarence doesn’t deserve what Adam’s doing to him, and you’re the only person I trust to actually do a damn thing about it.”
“Why me? Why not just tell Clarence yourself?”
“Because Clarence would handle it quietly and Adam would just keep going. You’re the only person I’ve ever seen make Adam actually shut up. So I’m giving this to you.”
I sit with it.
“I’m not forgiving you,” I say. “Just so we’re clear.”
“I know.” She nods down at the dirt.
“But Bec. Why are you still there?”
She blinks. “What do you mean?”
“The baby was the reason you stayed. That reason’s gone. And you’re still sitting in that apartment listening to him make those calls. For what?”
“Where am I supposed to go? I burned every bridge I had.” She gives a small, helpless shrug.
“Anywhere. You can rebuild your life. You drove yourself to a hospital alone because he couldn’t be bothered to pick up his phone. Why are you staying?”
“I don’t know.” It comes out small. Honest. “I don’t know anymore.”
“Then stop, leave him. Figure the rest out after.” I lean in across the little table.
She doesn’t answer. She just pulls her knees in and wraps her arms around them and stares at the little marker, and I can tell she’s heard me because she’s not arguing, and Rebecca always argues when she thinks you’re wrong.
“I’m glad you told me about the donors. And I’m glad you’re not dead in that apartment.”
“That’s the nicest thing you’ve said to me in months.” A small, watery smile.
“Don’t get used to it.” I push up off the grass and brush off my knees, and then I put a hand down and pull her up onto her feet with me.
***
Clarence is at the kitchen table when I get back, laptop open, phone beside it, staring at numbers that clearly aren’t making him happy.
“We need to talk.” I drop my keys on the counter.
“That’s never a good opening.” He leans back in the chair and folds his arms. “What happened?”
“I saw Rebecca.” I stay standing.
His face shifts. Careful now, reading me, trying to figure out where this is going.
“She told me what Adam’s been doing. The calls. The story he’s feeding everyone about you being unstable, about you being someone to stay away from. He’s got names, Clarence. People you trust. He’s been turning them against you for weeks.”
He doesn’t move. Doesn’t speak. Just sits there taking it in, and his expression goes very still and very flat, and I know from living here for two months that the stiller he gets, the worse it is.
“How many?”
“At least six that she knows of. He got to Kara Whitfield himself. Told her you were tangled up in something ugly, that the Carrington name was poison right now, and she should keep her distance.”
“He said that. About the thing I built with my own hands. The people I spent years earning. He’s just walking through them like a guy clearing a shelf.”
“He said exactly that.” I hold his eyes.
Clarence stands up. Walks to the window. Stands there looking out at the yard with his hands in his pockets, and I give him the room because pushing right now would break what’s left of his composure.
“I need to think.” His voice is way too calm for what his face is doing.
“Six people, Charly. Six. I spent years earning every one of them. Years of showing up, proving I wasn’t him, proving I was someone you could count on.
And he undid it with a few weeks of whispering in their ears.
” He presses both hands flat on the table and his knuckles go white.
“My own brother. My own goddamn brother is trying to destroy the one thing in my life he can’t take credit for. ”
“Then we drag your family into it.”
“It’s not that simple.” He shakes his head.
“It is that simple. He’s sabotaging you. You’ve got a witness. You fight back.”
“And how does that look, Charly? I stand up in front of everyone and say my brother’s been poisoning people against me because I took in the woman he cheated on? That’s not a defense. That’s a circus, and he’d love it.”
“Good thing I’m not afraid of a circus.”
He turns from the window. Looks at me. And despite everything, despite the donors and Adam and the whole mess closing in, the corner of his mouth moves.
“You’re serious about this.”
“Dead serious. He doesn’t get to take this from you. Not the foundation, not the donors, not any of it. We’re going to figure out how to fix this. You’ve helped me a lot, now it’s my turn to return the favor.”
“That’s… kind. Thank you, Charly.” He crosses the room and stops in front of me, close enough that I have to tip my chin up to look at him. “You don’t have to fight my battles.”
“I’m not fighting your battles. I’m fighting ours. Your name’s on the account that Adam used to rob me and his name’s on the calls that are robbing you. We’re in this together whether we like it or not.” I hold his eyes. “I like it, for the record.”
He looks at me for a long moment. Then his hand comes up and tucks a strand of hair behind my ear, gentle, the touch lingering against my jaw.
“So what’s the plan?”
“I don’t have one yet. But I will think of something. And you’re probably going to hate it.”
“Probably. Your plans terrify me.” He says it with the ghost of a smile.
“Good. You should be a little scared of me. Keeps things interesting.”
He almost smiles. I almost let myself enjoy it. But underneath the banter and the warmth and the way his fingers just brushed my skin, my brain is already turning.
Adam wants to play this game? Fine.
He has no idea what’s coming.