Page 97 of The Diávolos: Part Two
“Why didn’t he just get remarried? That would’ve solved the problem.”
Lydia’s lips turn down. “It’s not as easy as it sounds, Angelica. He would’ve had to find a woman who’d be willing to raise you as her own. He’d also just lost his wife and had to mourn in the eyes of the public. It would’ve all been too soon. And would you really have reacted well to getting a new mom?”
My jaw clenches. “It would’ve been better than spending five years at the Sisterhood,” I bark, not able to hide my rage anymore. I slap my hand on my mouth. “I’m so sorry.”
Evander squeezes me against him and gives me a kiss on the temple.
“It’s alright, sweetheart,” Lydia responds. “Emotions are high, and I don’t blame you. It’s a lot to take in. I’m sorry I couldn’t meet you sooner. But they wouldn’t allow it.”
“Theyas in the Sisterhood? Why not?”
“See, after spending most of my life as a sister, I was finally dismissed ten years ago, a couple of months after you left. One of the stipulations of my dismissal was to never contact you. Peter knew how close your mother and I had been and didn’t believe I would keep the truth from you. He’s right to not have trusted me. If it weren’t for the threats I received against me and my family, I would’ve looked for you as soon as you were old enough to hear the facts.”
“How were you able to stay there all those years, knowing what you were helping them do?” I ask, bitterness in my tone. The air is tense, but I can’t help but scrutinize Lydia for her apparent ignorance. She lowers her gaze.
“I didn’t know—”
“How could you not?” I demand, my voice laced with frustration. “Were you really that oblivious or just willfully ignorant?”
Lydia recoils from my harshness. “I swear I had no idea about what was happening in the Sisterhood. We were all taughtthat it was an all-girls establishment dedicated to teaching the morals and values of God.”
“I think you mean an archaic institution that trains young children to be sold to perverts and turn them into powerless women, stripping away their autonomy and reproductive rights,” I spit.
Lydia’s face scrunches. “Though I know it's not a justification, I only found out what was happening shortly before you were sent there. Iris never told me—perhaps she didn’t want to involve me, or—I don’t know. By then, I felt powerless and useless to make a change, but I did everything I could to help you, to get you out.”
I take a deep, shaky breath, processing her words. Though I know it’s not her fault, I can’t help the resentment toward anyone who was involved with that school. Something suddenly pops into my mind. “Why were some girls chosen to be nuns and others not?”
The room seems to close on us as we await her response.
“None of us truly know the answer,” Lydia replies, softly. “It could be that some of us weren’t deemed physically perfect or attractive enough. There are only two paths within the Sisterhood. The one where the chosen ones become nuns and embark on a journey of devotion. And the others…”
Lydia pauses, her gaze fixed on the wall. “They managed to convince us that it was a sanctuary. The façade was flawless. I genuinely believed I was helping those young girls. I started to question their cause only after Iris was forbidden to talk to me,” she says with a grave expression. “That’s when I started to see things differently.”
“What happened then?” I press.
“I pleaded with them to let me go. I told them I didn’t want to be a part of the Sisterhood, but they wouldn’t let me leave. I didn’t tell the other nuns, worried it would put them in danger.But I tried to find a way to stop them.” Her eyes glisten with sadness.
“I wanted to find you, make sure you were okay. The guilt of not having helped you still eats away at me.”
“What did they do to me?” I ask, choked with tears. “I still can’t remember anything about my time there.”
Lydia looks down and shakes her head. “Your father relented and brought you to the institution. For a week straight, you were in a state of panic, no matter how hard I tried to comfort you. You were inconsolable and freaked out anytime anyone other than me approached you.”
A chill runs down my spine.
“When you first arrived, you were still a bubbly eight-year-old girl with a smile that would brighten up any room. But that quickly changed, and your smiles ceased to happen. You looked so…dead. I felt hopeless. I pleaded for your father to take you back, but he said that he couldn’t.”
“That’s bullshit!” I exclaim. “He had every opportunity to come back for me,” I cry, blinking back the tears.
Lydia gives me a pained glance. “I know, sweetheart. And I tried to take care of you the best I could, but eventually, your grandfather had other nuns take over because you weren’t cooperating. The shock of your new reality triggered delirium—you began hallucinating and became paranoid. That’s when they started…drugging you.” She grimaces.
Evander tenses beside me, his body hot as rage flows through his veins.
“They gave you benzodiazepines to treat your anxiety and sedate you when you were having episodes. Twice a day, they fed you enough pills to tranquilize a horse. You became a shell of a human. You were so young and had so much promise, but you were reduced to a zombie. They kept you secluded from theother girls, so they wouldn’t ask questions. You were tutored and fed in your room.”
My lips quiver as I soak in Lydia’s words. “Why would he do that to me?”
“Peter was a master at pretending problems didn’t exist. He blindly trusted your grandfather to take care of you, but Peter Kouvalakis Sr. was an evil man.”
