Page 95 of Silent Oaths
Theodoregets out first, andMaxwellfollows.Heslams his door shut and stalks ahead, butIsabelstays put.
Ilean in from the driver’s seat, my hand reaching for hers before she can pull away.
“Hey,”Iwhisper. “It’sokay.I’vegot you.”
Sheglances at me, unsure, her lips parting just slightly.
“Corazón,”Imurmur again, the word softer this time, “you’re not alone.”
Herthroat bobs as she swallows, eyes flicking to the house again.
Then, she nods, just once, and finally steps out of the car.
Westep up to the house, the wooden steps creaking beneath our feet.Isabellingers between me andTheodore, her brows furrowed, her steps cautious.
“Whoseplace is this?” she whispers, eyes flicking toward the windows again.
Noone answers.
Shetries again, voice sharper now. “Julian.Seriously.”
Still,Isay nothing, because there’s no easy way to explain what’s waiting on the other side of that door.
Thewind picks up around us, rustling the trees, and just asMaxwelllifts his hand to knock, the door swings open.
Isabelstiffens beside me, and her breath hitches.
Standingin the doorway is a woman dressed in a pressed cream blouse, a dark skirt that falls just below her knees, and heels too elegant for gravel.Herhair is styled, makeup pristine, like she’s moments away from stepping out for afternoon tea with someone important.
Isabelinhales sharply and blanches.Sherecognizes her.
Theodoreis the one who speaks. “Hello,Mother.”
Fora moment, our adoptive parent doesn’t move.Then, she shifts to the side, her posture perfect, her chin tilted with just enough grace to remind us she’s still in control.
“Comein,” she says.
Theliving room smells like lemon polish and faint lavender, the kind of scent that clings to furniture and skin.Everythingis tidy.Thecouches haven’t been disturbed, and the tea set on the tray hasn’t been touched.Itfeels like it has been staged.
Sheleads us to the guest room—a polished little parlor with high-backed chairs and thin lace curtains that let in just enough light to wash the walls in gray.
Wesit.
Isabelis beside me, her spine rigid.Sheleans in close. “Whatare we doing here?”
Ikeep my eyes ahead and answer quietly, “You’llsee.”
Ourmother—because she’ll always insist on the title, no matter what we’ve become—crosses one leg over the other and folds her hands in her lap.
“Towhat doIowe the pleasure of this unannounced visit?” she asks, her tone almost amused.
Theodorerests his arm along the back of the couch. “Wewanted to check in, see how you’re doing.”
Shelifts one perfectly sculpted brow. “HowI’mdoing?”
Maxwelllets out a dry laugh under his breath.
Ourmother doesn’t even look at him.
