Page 28 of The Golden Hour

“I know.” Reaching across the table, I grab her hand. “And I hope to God you’ll never find out.”

Lizzie shudders, a shadow crossing her face. My shadow. That of my presumed death, long absence, and return. For better or worse, the shadow of my choices—present, past, and future—stains us all.

16

“You always were one for tall tales, Callisto, but this is beyond the pale.”

Vivian doesn’t look at me as she speaks, her gaze trained on a sleek computer monitor. The three-carat diamond studs in her ears wink in the sunlight streaming through the windows behind her.

She looks exactly the same. Better, even, thanks to surgical magic. I’m pretty sure she used to have a few wrinkles, especially around her mouth from all the scowling she did. Now her skin is pillowy and pore-less, radiant with purchased youth.

“It’s not a tall tale,” I say, my exhaustion unfeigned. “Far-fetched, I’ll admit that. But it’s true.”

Sharp green eyes avert from the screen and affix to my face. “You expect me to believe you had amnesia for close to five years, then poof, three months ago, you started remembering your life? Then, instead of giving me a damn phone call, you stayed away because you were afraid of how your return would affect the girls?”

The less you say, the easier the lie.

I nod placidly, confirming the version of events I’ve tailored specifically to her. I want her to believe protecting my sisters is my highest priority—not hard, because it’s true. I didn’t mention Ellie or Lizzie to the detective, of course. Vivian would consider that a violation of the family’s privacy.

“Suppose I do believe you… then tell me, what made you come back? And why the hell did you go to the police instead of coming here?”

I swallow a sigh. “The short answer is I missed my family. The long answer…” I pause, meeting her gaze directly. “I saw that you were running for governor and realized I could help you. That my story could. Maybe I finally remembered the last piece of myself—the legacy of my father. Ambition and service to the family.”

Vivian watches me, motionless and expressionless. Expecting me to balk, maybe, or change my story. But right now, I’m not afraid of her. I have something she wants—a connection to voters she’ll never have. I read the news on my phone this morning. I’m all over it, an innocent victim of tragedy risen from the ashes. A princess who forgot herself and spent years as a penniless pauper.

God, I hate the press. Especially since the family’s desired spin on the story is already apparent. But if they want me to be a bridge between the classes, that’s fine by me. I’m going to make Vivian jump off the highest point.

The thought crosses my mind that the game I’m playing might consume me right along with her, that I’m swimming in morally ambiguous waters, but potential victory outweighs the costs.

Maybe this is what Finn has felt for years, this single-minded focus on an end goal.

I can’t think of my sisters. Won’t.

Eventually Vivian relaxes in her chair, though her gaze cuts as it rakes me from head to toe. Then she reaches for her cell phone.

“You’re going shopping,” she tells me as she types out a text message. “Casual, accessible style, but quality. A full formal wardrobe as well.” She glances up. “Please tell me you don’t have tattoos or have forgotten how to walk in heels.”

“I don’t. And haven’t.”

“Good.” She puts down the phone. “My stylist will be here in two hours. He’ll schedule private fittings so the bloodhounds won’t pick up your scent. You heard me mention a garden party?”

I nod, nerves glimmering inside me. I hadn’t expected my first public appearance—and test—to be so soon.

“Saturday at two. You’ll be expected to make an impression. Can you handle that?”

“Of course. Will I be briefed on the attendees prior? I’d like to be given priority targets.”

Her surprise is swiftly concealed. “That can be arranged.”

I nod. “Is that all?”

“Family dinner tomorrow at six sharp. I’ve told your uncles to give you space until then. I figured you’d want some time to reacclimate before the reunion.”

Caught off guard by the unexpected thoughtfulness, I stand. “I appreciate that. And thank you, Vivian.”

This time, surprise lifts her brows. “For what?”

I smile even as my insides kick with revulsion. “For being a mother to me.”

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