Page 134 of Mercy (The Sins Trilogy 3)
Father jumps to his feet, his face bloodless. Mother lunges for my phone, but I’m faster. I snatch it out of her reach. “Answer me, Mother!” I demand, ugly knowledge eating away at me like acid. For the first time in my life, I want to hurt her, really hurt her until she’s a broken heap on the floor, stripped of her elegant socialite mask.
Father pulls her back, his hands tight around her shoulders.
She twists in his grip. “I told you this is a waste of time and effort! He hasn’t changed at all!” She gestures at me. “He’s still bitter he was punished for killing Katherine!”
Ivy leaps to her feet. “It was an accident!”
I stare at Ivy, shocked at her outburst. How does she know? And how did she find out?
“An accident?” Mother says, turning toward her. “An accident is when you don’t watch your baby sister, so she falls down and scrapes her knees! An accident is when a peanut butter and jelly sandwich falls on the floor! He shot my Katherine!”
I flinch as though somebody kicked me. Remorse is eating at me like an ulcer, but I’m not letting it erase the fact that Mother was involved in an attempt on Ivy’s life.
“Yes, a hunting accident!” Ivy cries. “He didn’t mean to do it. You know that. Everyone in this room knows that, but none of you will admit it!” Suddenly, Ivy’s eyes flash like bright silver. “Oh my God. Oh my God! How could anybody not have seen it?” She takes one stumbling step backward, almost tipping over her chair. “You’re the one who put her in that buckskin-colored outfit, not him! You’re the one who made Katherine’s clothes! So you have to blame Tony, because otherwise you’d have to admit that maybe it was your fault Katherine got shot. If you hadn’t made that dress, or put her in it when you knew she was tagging along into a forest, maybe she would’ve lived.”
Shock jolts me at what Ivy is saying. Jesus. I never thought of that… It seemed so obvious who is to blame. I’m the one who pulled the trigger, after all. And I—
“Shut up, you bitch! Shut up! What the hell do you know?” Mother screams, throwing a champagne glass at Ivy.
I jump to my feet and shield her. Mother’s aim is bad, so the flute shatters on the table before reaching Ivy. Glinting shards of glass fly into the food, and champagne spills, little bubbles frothing as the tablecloth absorbs the liquid.
“I only told Caleb where you were going to be,” Mother continues, seething. “I told him how much you upset me because you wouldn’t accept my advice. You wouldn’t see what a monster Tony was. You think I blame him to avoid blaming myself? He didn’t even cry for his baby sister. He’s a cold-blooded killer!”
Cold and heat rush through me. This isn’t anything new. I already know why she hates me. But hearing it again cuts so much deeper than I braced myself for.
“Why didn’t you go to the police when Sam contacted you?” Ivy demands.
“Why should I have? That monster”—she points a quivering finger at me—“proved me right when he didn’t cry over your death either. He never really loved you, and he’s a stone-cold killer. But he enjoyed fucking you. Why should I let him do that again? Why should I let him find you and be happy again when I’m miserable, and my baby is never coming back to me?”
The old guilt and pain slam into me like a wrecking ball. That sin—my mistake from eighteen years ago. It wasn’t enough I was banished, that I was never forgiven and publicly disowned. She said even my death wasn’t what she wanted. I finally understand exactly what she does want—my suffering. Endless, horrendous suffering until I break.
“Margot!” Father’s voice is sharp and brittle with shock.
Mother turns to him, tears glittering in her eyes. “Taking that information to the police and getting them to force Sam to turn over the recording would have ruined my reputation. Everyone would have assumed I had something to do with Caleb’s crime. And why should I lose my social standing? Why should I lose that, after I lost my child? You know how much I wanted a girl. The only reason we have three boys is because I kept failing.” Her tone makes it clear she wouldn’t have had the third one if she hadn’t failed.
Poor Harry. He shouldn’t have to hear this. He hasn’t done anything to deserve it. But Mother is oblivious, completely self-absorbed. “I even miscarried once before I finally had Katherine.”
Harry is white. Edgar puts a steadying hand on his shoulder.
“No one gets to judge me! No one! I’m the victim here!”
Mother sounds completely unhinged. I knew losing Katherine hurt her, but I never imagined it’d twist her like this. What the hell happened to the Mother I remember from before? The warm, sweet woman I adored with all my little-boy heart?
My gaze darts briefly to Father. I wonder if I’m the only one who was unaware of her true nature. But he’s staring at her like he doesn’t recognize her anymore. Ivy moves closer and holds on to me, as though she’s seeking strength, and I put an arm around her shoulders.
Mother seems to recognize what her outburst has done. She blinks slowly a couple of times, then turns to Harry. “You were always a good boy. My little angel. You know how much I’m suffering, don’t you, my darling Harry?”
When he doesn’t make a move to comfort her, she extends her arms toward him. He recoils. “I’m not your darling Harry, Mother,” he rasps. “My name is Harcourt Blackwood.” He looks at everyone in the dining room, then shakes his head. “Excuse me. I need to go.”
He walks out slowly. Worry darkening his gaze, Edgar follows him.
I wish I could go with them, but I still have unfinished business with Mother.
“Tony…” Father braces his hands on the table, sweat beading at his temples despite the cool temperature inside. “I…need some air.” He yanks at his tie and stalks off, breathing harshly.
Mother glares at me and Ivy, fury blazing in her eyes. “I hope you’re happy, you little bastard. I rue the day I had you. You should’ve been the one who I miscarried, not the child I had before Katherine.”
Intense loathing pours from my mother, and I’m numb. Not with pain, I tell myself. A voice in my head says maybe I’ve become somewhat immune to it. After all, she already told me I don’t deserve death because that would send me to wherever Katherine is. Her wishing to have miscarried me is… Well. Almost anticlimactic.
