Page 67 of Just Say Yes

Elizabeth’s smile didn’t reach her eyes. Everything about her—from the tailored skirt to the way she pronouncedwelcome—felt like it had been rehearsed. She was perfect, polished, and utterly impossible to read. I couldn’t decide whether she was welcoming me or sizing me up.

Her firm grip on my shoulders squeezed. “Thank you for bringing him home.”

Elizabeth looked at the man as tears welled in her eyes. “Oh, Frederick.” She waved a hand between them. “Just throw him in an upstairs closet”—her tone suddenly changed, dropping the mourning-wife routine—“but not in the blue room, one of the back ones. Maybe the east wing bathroom no one uses.”

The fuck?

The woman who had defended him so fiercely on television now spoke about him like an old piece of furniture she no longer had room for. It was chilling, the way she could switch between grief and indifference.

Getting a read on these people was difficult. Was this just another role for her, or had she truly stopped caring about him long ago? Was she really the grieving widow she displayed on camera, or a woman who would toss her dead husband’s ashes in a bathroom closet?

Elizabeth turned her attention to me. “Well, shall we have some tea to warm you up?”

My mouth opened for a second before snapping shut. “Sure. Thank you.”

“Frederick, please bring it to the salon.” She motioned toward a long corridor that led to a grand sitting room off the main hallway.

The butler nodded, whisking my father’s ashes away. I swallowed hard as warring emotions swirled in my stomach. I hadn’t even said a proper goodbye, yet I was also relieved.

As Frederick carried the box away, a hollow ache settled in my chest. I hadn’t expected to feel this way—like I was handing over the last piece of the man who had caused so much pain but was still my father. Was this closure? Or just another door shutting on a life I could never make sense of?

I took one last look at the box as Frederick walked away.

Bye, Dad.

I followed Elizabeth down the hallway. In the salon, high, thick beams ran across the ceiling, but they were the only hints of color. Everything else was a stark white—walls, molding, furniture. The entire space looked utterly untouched and unlived in.

Two women, not much older than me, stood behind the massive couch in the center of the room.

It was jarring to see two pairs of my father’s eyes staring back at me. There was no denying these women were Russell King’s children. Nerves bunched in my stomach.

Their eyes—his eyes—should have been familiar, but they weren’t. They didn’t hold the same weight of disappointment or fear I remembered from my childhood. Instead, they shone with curiosity and warmth, as if being his daughter had been a gift instead of a curse.

The taller of the two women stepped forward first. “Hi, I’m Bianca.” She gestured toward the other woman. “This is Blair. We are so thrilled to meet one of Daddy’s children.”

Daddy?

I limply extended my hand, desperately trying to make sense of the situation that was rapidly unfolding before me.

Elizabeth stood beside me, carefully reading the interaction. “I’m sure it’s confusing, and maybe a little bit surprising, to hear that we now know about you and your siblings.”

A weak laugh escaped me. “Yeah. A little.”

Elizabeth sat on one of the chairs near the couch, and I did the same. They were as stiff and uncomfortable as they looked.

“Russell and I had an unconventional marriage. You see, I grew up not far from here. My father is a powerful, very influential businessman. I liked my life.” She gestured around her as if to say,Who wouldn’t love all this?“I was a hardheaded girl and had no intentions of marrying, but my father insisted. He hand selected Russell King. I kept the Peake name, of course. Russell received the money he needed to get King Equities off the ground, and I got two beautiful children.”

A business deal that dealt in money and procreation.

“Oh,” I said, glancing between Elizabeth and her daughters. But something else gnawed at me. “So you knew about his double life the whole time?”

Elizabeth’s features softened as she looked at me. I recognized pity when I saw it. “Russell loved his hometown. I certainly had no desire to live there, and what he did with his time was his own business.”

The way they spoke about him—like he was a charming, if slightly eccentric, husband and father—made my stomach twist. They didn’t know about the manipulation, the cruelty, the lies. Or maybe they did, and they just didn’t care. Either way, it felt like we were talking about two completely different men.

I leaned forward. “So you knew about his relationship with my mother, Maryann?”

Elizabeth’s smile never faltered. “Russell had his fun and I had mine. It was better for the both of us if we didn’t ask questions.”

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