Chapter 61
Violet
I was scared to look away. The doctor explained it was unlikely he’d be responsive anytime soon. But sitting here, watching his chest rise and fall on its own, without tubes or machines forcing oxygen into him… it felt like the only thing left in my control.
It had been close, but the surgery had been a success. The bullet had been removed and the worst of the damage repaired.
He was alive, but I don’t think I’ve ever cried as much as I have these past few days. All that was left was waiting for him to wake up. And he would wake up.
I refused to acknowledge any other outcome.
“How is he?”
I shot to my feet, spinning around to find mum standing in the doorway of Ryder’s hospital room. Her dark eyes were hard, guarded as they flicked to Ryder before settling on me. Bruises marked her skin in angry patches, but the ones around her throat were the worst.
I knew she’d been one of the people Roman’s team had pulled out of that manor, but this was the first time I was seeing her with my own eyes.
Even knowing I’d believed she was dead, she still refused to see me until now. I wasn’t sure what to do with the way that made me feel.
“Well?” she prompted when I remained silent.
“He’s okay,” I said, making sure my voice didn’t crack. “He’s lucky; the bullet missed all his major organs.”
“And his eye?” she asked, her tone cold, as if we were strangers. “Roman asked for an update.”
His left eye was still a mess amongst the cuts and bruises, but the specialist had said he may have corneal trauma from a fractured eye socket. “They won’t know until the swelling goes down,” I whispered.
“I’m happy he survived,” she said, voice stiff and controlled. “You… you deserve to have someone like that. Someone who’d risk everything for you.”
I took a step closer. “Mum, I—”
“I’m sorry,” she said, cutting me off. “I… I never wanted you to know.”
“Know what?” I asked. “That you killed my biological mother? Or that you tried to sell me?”
Her expression fractured, but only for a second before she forced it back into something cold and unreadable. “I don’t expect you to understand.”
“Then help me understand,” I cried. “Please. Just… explain it to me.”
Mum stood there, her lips thinned, eyes wide and uncertain.
“God, even now you can’t be honest with me?” I couldn’t keep my voice down, years of anger and pain surging to the surface like a flood. “Why are you even here?”
Mum stared at me for a long, brittle moment, and I refused to feel guilty when a single tear slipped free and raced down her cheek.
“I was one of Emil’s dolls,” she said quietly, a soft tremor in her voice. “Before Aria, that was her name, the woman who birthed you. I was his favourite doll. So when she came, I became jealous.”
“How old were you?”
Mum’s tears came freely now, but she didn’t reach up to rub them away. “Fourteen, I think?”
A child.
I swallowed hard, forcing down the sting in my own eyes. I couldn’t let my horror overwhelm her. Not now. Not when she was finally letting me in.
“I hated her,” mum said, a dark, hollow laugh slipping out.
“I understand now that the jealousy was twisted. Manipulated by the man I looked at like he was a god, because he was the only thing I had. I didn’t want to hurt her.
Not really. But my jealousy, my stupidity, is what got us both sent to the Caretaker.
And then suddenly she was his favourite, too. ”
Her shoulders shook, hands curled at her sides.
“I couldn’t take it. Imagine being a child, told every day you’re nothing, and then suddenly you’re chosen.
Given attention, even if it’s the wrong kind.
And then having it yanked away because someone prettier walked in.
” She swallowed hard. “So when I found out she was pregnant, ruined, I wanted to gloat. I made her tea with roots I knew would make her sick… and I gave it to her.”
Mum trembled, and I found myself inching closer, afraid she’d disappear if I didn’t.
“I went back to Emil… and she didn’t. I didn’t mean for her to die; I just wanted to make her sick, make her uglier so maybe I’d be the favourite again.” Her voice cracked. “Years later, I was sent back to the Caretaker for misbehaving, and that’s where I found you. This beautiful, tiny toddler.”
Her chest hitched around a quiet sob.
“I heard what they had planned for you. And then I hated you too, because I thought you’ll take Emil away from me just like she did.” Her eyes were hollow when they met mine. “What kind of person feels something like that?”
Every word was a blade to my heart. “Mum—”
She lifted a hand, stopping me. “He was right. I was going to sell you. But then you giggled, this soft little sound. So innocent.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “I was never innocent. And suddenly, I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t sell you, knowing what kind of people existed who bought children.
“So I took you, named you Violet, and gave you the necklace Emil gifted me so I could never forget what I was. What I’d done.” A hiccup, followed by a sob. “I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry, my flower.”
“There’s nothing to be sorry for,” I said, my voice shaking. “You saved me.”
“I…” Her face twisted, grief and shame mixing into something raw.
“The details don’t matter,” I whispered, closing the remaining distance between us. “You saved me, mum. You were the one who held me when I cried, who sang to me when I was scared, and who sat for hours untangling my hair. You showed up for everything, even when it scared you.”
She broke, folding into me as if her bones had given out. I wrapped my arms around her, holding her tightly as she sobbed into my shoulder.
“You were brave enough to break free,” I murmured into her hair. “Brave enough to raise a child when you were essentially still a child yourself. I don’t care that we’re not blood; you’re my mum. You always have been and always will be.”
I don’t know how long we held each other. It was long enough for my tears to dry and for her sobs to stop. Long enough that I knew we could do this. Survive.
“I’m going to get better,” she said at last, pulling back to gently tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. “I’ve spoken to Roman. He’s arranging a place for me, a private care facility.”
My eyes widened. “Wait, what?”
“I’m getting help. Therapy, medication, whatever it takes. I want to get better, Violet. For you, but also for me. It’s why I need you to come with me right now,” she continued softly.
“I’m not leaving him.” I turned toward Ryder, still and pale against the hospital sheets. “I can’t.”
A small, warm smile curved her lips. One I hadn’t seen in years.
“We’re not running, my flower. Not anymore. But I need you to see this, so the demons that haunted me don’t end up haunting you too.”
Mum took my hand as we moved through the Fluffy Duckling, completely unfazed by the customers who paused to stare. Maxim guided us through to the back, leading us into a cold, concrete room that smelled faintly of dust, disinfectant, and blood.
I stopped in the doorway, taking in the scene.
Roman sat on a nearby table, a cigarette tucked between his lips, his white shirt sleeves rolled up with deliberate calm.
A metal tray of tools lay neatly arranged beside him, each one lined up with unsettling care.
A plastic sheet covered the floor, smoothed out perfectly beneath the figure of my father suspended from a hook in the ceiling.
Mum stepped forward, slow at first, then with growing certainty until she stood just a foot away from him. Caretaker writhed in his restraints, eyes wild, snarling behind the strip of duct tape across his mouth. Utterly helpless.
She didn’t speak, simply staring at him in cold, unflinching silence.
Her hair had been hacked short, uneven strands curling in all different directions.
Her skin was mottled with bruises in various colours, and her frame was slight compared to the man hanging in front of her. Yet she’d never looked so powerful.
“Why are you doing this?” I asked Roman, who’d moved to stand by my side.
He looked down at me with a raised brow, the orange tip of his cigarette forcing hard shadows across his handsome features.
“What did she give you?”
“Nothing,” he said simply.
“Nothing?” I repeated, unable to believe it.
He shook his head, dark green eyes returning to where my mum continued to stand, watching Caretaker struggle.
“Then why?”
“Ryder is my family,” he said calmly. “And you’re his.”
I didn’t know what to say to that, frowning as mum moved. She brushed her fingers across the tools set up on the metal table, finally selecting the gun. Without pause, she raised it and pulled the trigger.
Caretaker’s scream was muffled, caught behind the tape as he lurched violently. His eyes bulged in agony, blood soaking through his trousers, dripping from the fresh, gaping wound right through his groin.
Mum’s voice, when it came, was steady. Stronger than I’d ever heard it.
“I would take so much pleasure in torturing you,” she said, her gaze never wavering.
“I should hurt you, again and again, just as you’ve hurt me.
As you’ve hurt all those men, women, boys, and girls over the decades.
I should throw you in a cage and share you with the vilest of creatures this world has to offer.
Let you beg for mercy that never comes.”
He thrashed, nostrils flaring, but she only leaned closer.
“But I want you to understand something before you die.” She paused, watching him with newfound determination. “I’m nothing like you.”
And then, calm as anything, she lifted the gun and shot him clean between the eyes.
Neither man said a word as mum turned her back on Caretaker and walked toward me. “I love you,” she said, reaching for my hand. “It’s finally over.”
I gripped it tight, hoping that she was truly free from those demons that have haunted her for so long. “I love you more.”
She gave a small, trembling smile. “I love you most.”