Chapter 12
Olivia
Sitting in Malik’s office, I stared blankly into space, struggling to process everything I had just read in my mother’s journal. My thoughts drifted like a leaf caught in a restless wind, eventually settling on the slightly ajar door.
Beyond it, Malik was somewhere in the house, caring for Rosie. Meanwhile, we were in here, our minds filled, our sense of reality shifting from what we’d learned.
And somehow, everything—everyone—was connected.
The wind outside howled, gaining force, mirroring the storm of emotions inside me.
This vivid glimpse into my mother’s past affected me in ways I hadn’t expected.
The pain, the fear—she had lived a tortured existence.
But despite it all, her support for Balthazar and her desperate attempts to save him left a bitter taste in my mouth.
“What are you thinking?” Emily asked quietly, her fingers brushing against my hand.
I blinked, pulling myself back to the present.
“I’m thinking Mom’s life was a disaster. I’m thinking I still don’t like or trust her. I’m thinking…” I rubbed a hand over my forehead. “I’m thinking. I don’t know what to think.”
Emily’s expression tightened. “How can you still not like her? A madman possessed her. A demon.” The dim light in the room cast shadows across her face, deepening the bruised look in her eyes. Then, after a beat, she frowned. “Actually… I don’t like her now, either.”
She shuddered, her limbs trembling like a dog shaking off water. “Balthazar,” she whispered, her face crumpling.
She didn’t need to say anything else.
“Exactly,” I muttered. “Mom, of all people, had the power to kill Balthazar. She knew him intimately. She must have known his weaknesses.”
Lee had always taught me to look for a person’s vulnerabilities.
Exploit them, and you control the game.
If you knew someone’s weaknesses, however slight, you had the power to destroy them, he often said. And then, almost as an afterthought, he’d add that you also have the power to heal them.
But I didn’t want to think about that part.
Balthazar was a hideous, foul, irredeemable monster who must be wiped out—no two ways about it.
Still, I couldn’t shake the question—why had my mother wanted to save him?
What possible quality, buried beneath his cruelty, had moved her so profoundly?
It didn’t make sense. Not when this was the same man who had assaulted me, who had stolen my unborn child.
The same man who had nearly cost Roman his life.
There wasn’t a shred of evidence to justify his continued existence.
“Are you wondering what I’m wondering?” Emily asked softly.
I twirled a strand of hair around my finger. “I don’t know. Are you wondering why Mom chose to save a monster? Because monsters can’t be saved.”
A familiar voice interrupted us.
“No, darling,” Malik said as he glided through the door. “Monsters can be saved.”
I jerked at his sudden appearance, my pulse spiking. I still didn’t understand how he moved so silently, like a cat prowling in the dark.
His expression was unreadable. “Even the darkest of the dark can change.”
I blinked a few times, forcing myself to register his presence. “Are you talking about yourself? Because if you’re referring to Balthazar, we must agree to disagree.”
I stood, stretching my stiff back.
Malik studied me for a long moment, then smiled faintly. “You must be tired. And I have things to do here.” His tone shifted, smooth and practiced—like a perfect host steering the conversation away from dangerous waters. “Why don’t you two head to bed, hmm?”
It was a neat evasion.
“Oh! We’re sorry for taking up so much time in your office,” Emily said, springing to her feet.
Malik waved a hand dismissively. “Nonsense. I wanted you to finish the journal. And now, I need my office back.”
His voice was smooth, and his mannerisms were perfectly reasonable. Too reasonable. I didn’t trust it. But exhaustion tugged at my limbs, and my questions—no matter how pressing—could wait.
“Well… good night, then,” I murmured, suppressing a yawn.
Malik smiled broadly. “Pleasant dreams, you two.”
But his gaze stayed locked onto me. It didn’t match the warmth of his smile. It watched. It waited.
His hands perched on his hips, his stance casual but expectant. He was waiting for us to leave.
I hesitated. Then, almost without thinking, I asked, “In the journal… you had a child. What happened to her?”
The room’s energy shifted.
Malik’s expression darkened into something unreadable. He didn’t speak.
Emily, ever gentler in her approach, tried again. “Will you tell us what happened?”
His face closed off entirely, leaving only a cold, empty regard. “It’s late. I will answer that question another day.” A pause. Then, with finality, “Good night.”
His fingers curled around the doorknob; his silent command clear.
Emily and I exchanged glances before stepping out into the dimly lit hallway, our unspoken questions trailing behind us. We parted ways, heading for our respective rooms.
As I padded along the plush carpet, I couldn’t shake the sensation of his eyes tracking my every move.
***
A soft scratching against my door the next morning pulled me from sleep.
I blinked groggily, stretching out the stiffness in my limbs. “Who’s out there?”
“It’s me,” came Emily’s hushed voice. “Can I come in?”
“Sure.”
I pulled myself upright, swung my legs off the bed, and reached for the delicate lace-and-silk robe hanging in the armoire. As I tugged it around me, Emily slipped inside, looking as disheveled as I felt—her face pale, dark circles clinging beneath her eyes.
“What’s wrong? Sleepless night?” I crossed the room and wrapped my arms around her.
She melted into the embrace, nodding into my shoulder. “I tossed and turned all night.”
“Me too.” I kissed the top of her head before pulling away. “I couldn’t stop thinking about everything we learned about Mom in the journal.”
Emily focused on the floor as she hugged herself tightly. “That missing page. I know it’s important. We need to ask Malik about what it said and where it is. Why it was removed.”
Nausea coiled in my stomach as last night’s revelations resurfaced. There was too much to process, too many pieces missing from the puzzle.
A sudden patter of tiny feet broke through my thoughts.
Rosie.
I hadn’t even thought to ask about her last night. Guilt prickled at me.
The door burst open without warning, and Rosie hopped into the room like a bunny, her curls bouncing with each step.
“I’ve been having a tea party!” she announced, spinning in a circle.
“A tea party?” I crouched down to her level, forcing a smile. “That sounds fun! But isn’t it a little early for tea?”
Rosie giggled and tapped my nose. “No, silly! It’s high noon.”
She stretched onto her tiptoes, lifting her arm high above her head. “That’s what Malik calls it. He said, ‘It’s high noon,’ and I can reach it if I stand tall.”
I shot Emily a quizzical look. Malik… playful? That didn’t quite fit.
“Who did you have the tea party with? Cook?” I asked Rosie.
She clasped her hands together and rocked from side to side. “Not Cook. Malik! Malik and I had a tea party.” Her face lit up with excitement. “And now he said to come get you for lunch!”
Before I could react, she twirled and darted out the door like a baby bird taking flight.
I turned to Emily, eyebrows raised.
“Malik had a tea party with Rosie?” I shook my head. “Stranger things have happened, I guess.”
Emily crossed her arms, unconvinced. “I don’t know… this one is pretty strange.”
We both burst into laughter.
“I’ll be right down after I change,” I said, moving toward the armoire. “Don’t worry—we will ask about the missing page.”
A long, high-waisted day gown in a striking shade of blue caught my eye. I slipped into it, smoothing the fabric over my hips before heading downstairs.
The scent of roasted meats and warm bread filled the air, guiding me toward the dining room. As expected, a feast had been laid on the table, an extravagant spread that seemed excessive for just a few of us.
As I entered, Malik looked up from his plate, his emerald eyes locking onto mine with unsettling precision.
“Good afternoon, Olivia,” he greeted. “How are you?”
Rosie sat beside him, absently rolling peas around her plate with a fingertip.
“We don’t play with our food, sweetheart,” Malik murmured, gently covering her hand with his.
Rosie stilled immediately. “Okay,” she whispered.
His focus shifted back to me, waiting for my response.
I stretched my arms, a yawn slipping free before I could stop it. “Groggy,” I admitted. “Didn’t get much sleep last night.”
Malik’s smile was polite, but something remained unreadable—like he knew exactly why I hadn’t slept.
“I’m sorry to hear that. Do sit down and restore yourself with food and beverage.” He gestured to the lavish spread before us.
I settled next to Emily, whose plate was already piled high with meat, potatoes, vegetables, and a small ramekin of custard.
As I filled my dish, I cut straight to the point. “There’s a page missing from the journal. It was ripped out.” I lifted a turkey leg to my lips, nibbling at the crispy, golden skin. “Do you know where it is or what it said?”
Malik’s expression remained neutral. “I’m afraid I don’t.”
His gaze flicked to Rosie, who sat swinging her feet under the table. “Sweetheart, why don’t you see if Cook needs help?”
She shook her head, her glossy brown ringlets bouncing. “I want to stay with you.”
Malik chuckled. “If you want to stay with me, you’ll have to sit very still, like stodgy old adults.” His lips curved in amusement.
Rosie straightened her back, her face suddenly serious. “Okay, I’ll behave like an old adult.”
Malik let out a quiet laugh.
I, however, wasn’t amused. “I know you’re hiding something, Malik.”
I speared a forkful of potatoes and gravy, shoving them into my mouth as I watched him closely.