Page 59 of House of Lies
I know Domenico’s heart is in the right place, but I can’t deal with any of this right now.
“How difficult can it be to find her?” I raise my voice, frustration seeping through. “Check every bus station, train station, and airport! Search every inch of New York until you find her unless you want me to nail your hands to a board and toss you in the middle of the ocean!” Caelia didn’t simply vanish. She is too smart for her own good, but her resources are limited. “Dmitri, locate Fiona and bring her to me. Also, find out where Ludovic is.”
I have questions for the woman who gave birth to me. I acted impulsively regarding Ermanno, and I won’t contact Sevastyan or Vanya until I uncover what’s truly happening. Have I been manipulated by my uncle my entire life? I was too young when my father died, unable to remember his friends or foes. I have no recollection of him ever mentioning the Benedetti family.
Alone at last, I allow myself a moment to crumble. It’s the pain that forces me to halt, not my mind. My mind remains intact, weaving plans in the background. I didn’t disclose the nasty wound on my abdomen to Dmitri or Domenico. The doctor frowned upon hearing that I must have injured myself during the accident, but he didn’t dare say anything about it. Smart doctor. I can’t search for Caelia in my current condition, and I despise waiting. My body refuses to stay still, and my mind refuses to be silent. I contemplate how things might have been different if I had trusted her enough to reveal the truth. Would she still have stabbed me? Was she desperate to escape from Mattia or me? Perhaps both.
She must pay for what she did to me. Attempting to leave Mattia alone is punishment enough. I should kill her. The silver lining is that I no longer need to pretend to be Mattia. It’s done. Ermanno is dead, and it was antifuckingclimactic.
When Dmitri returns, accompanied by Fiona, I have showered and changed. We stare at each other in prolonged silence. Tears stream down her cheeks, though she doesn’t appear injured.
“You’re not Mattia,” is the first thing she says.
“No, Fiona. I’m not.”
I’m done playing. I need answers and will get them, even if it means forcing them out of her.
“Who are you?” she inquires.
I grasp the meaning behind her words. She knows who I am. She just doesn’t know the name Alexei assigned to me. I wonder if she had already chosen a name for me.
“You don’t know my name, do you?”
It’s a little sad, really. And I wish I felt that feeling deeper. But I don’t. I still can’t find it in me to dig up any feelings for the woman before me. She shakes her head, her hands trembling.
“Take a seat.” I gesture toward the couch. “We need to talk.”
Fiona glances over her shoulder, noticing Dmitri standing behind her, his expression blank. She complies without resistance, and I settle on the opposite sofa, every muscle protesting as I move. Only now do I realize we share the same dark gray eyes. Hers are filled with sorrow and torment, while mine remain fixed on her, filled with rage.
“You’ve killed Ermanno,” she says, her tone more of a statement than a question. I nod. She already knows I did it. “Why?”
“You see, this is where I need you to clarify things. Tell me how it happened—all of it.”
She swallows, gathering her thoughts. Alexei and Ermanno were business partners. She was attracted to Alexei enough to think a one-night stand would be worth it. I wonder if she still feels the same way. I don’t bother asking.
“I told Ermanno that you died at birth.” Her expression is haunted.
“Why?”
“I … I was so young, and I never wanted children, especially twins. I didn’t want to abandon you.” I laugh at this, knowing it hurts her. She tries to make herself smaller, recoiling on the couch. Good. “I paid a nurse a lot of money to help me.”
“You paid a nurse a lot of money to help you get rid of me.”
“No, I paid a nurse to help me contact your father. She kept you safe until he sent someone for you.”
“Why didn’t you put me up for adoption?”
“The system is a joke.” Her voice breaks as if she wants to say my name but can’t. She doesn’t know my name, and I’m not inclined to provide that information yet.
“So you think you did me a favor?”
“I know I did. Your father had the means to raise you and give you a good life.”
She continues to cry, but there are no cracks in my heart through which she can slip.
“I wonder if you would still consider it a good life if you knew how much blood I have on my hands, mother.”
Fiona flinches, wiping her tears away.