Page 36 of Mercy (The Sins Trilogy 3)
The possibility is infuriating. I didn’t think that far. Well, I’ve never thought anybody would be that rude, but she’s right about kids. They have no filter and end up saying hurtful things even without meaning to.
“So what does your experience tell you, then? Apparently the answer isn’t breaking up with the man you love, since you married Tony’s father,” I say stiffly.
“No. That would be counterproductive. And as clichéd as cutting off your nose to spite your face.” Margot continues smoothly, “That’s why lawyers invented prenuptial agreements.”
“A prenup?” I repeat dumbly, unsure how that’s helpful.
“Why, yes. How else are you going to prove to the world you aren’t marrying him for money? I had one. A lot of couples who come from different levels of wealth do.”
The taste in my mouth turns bitter. “Sounds like you want me to plan a divorce before the wedding.”
“That’s unnecessarily narrow-minded of you,” Margot says. “Plenty of couples sign one, and many of them are still married years and years later. Just look at Lane and I.”
I bite my lip. My instinct says it’s a shitty thing to have, but I wonder if my reluctance is more due to the fact that the suggestion is coming from Margot than the fact that it would require me to think about how a divorce would go before we’re even married. It seems obscene.
Margot clucks. “It hurts to see your stunned expression. If only you had someone to act as your mother, help you make decisions and guide through the daunting process of becoming a billionaire’s wife, this sort of thing wouldn’t come as a shock.”
I agree with that. On the other hand, this woman isn’t the only one who can help. Spending weeks, maybe months with her to plan my wedding or how I should structure my married life is not my idea of stress-free fun.
“Even though Tony’s made his own fortune, he’s not one of those awful nouveau riche. There are things you’ll be expected to know as his wife. And I really want to do something for you,” she adds. “It seems like the best solution…unless you have a different suggestion?”
On this, she sounds sincere. Even though I want to tell her it won’t be necessary, I wonder if I’m just being petty when she’s reaching out to me this way. I’m still not too crazy about her—and I don’t really trust her enough to let her into my small circle of confidantes yet. But that children remark makes me think about how ours would feel about their father being disowned…and never knowing their grandparents.
Don’t go there. If Tony wanted to fix this, he would’ve done it years ago.
But she said she wanted to do something for me, and it can’t hurt to just ask…can it? I didn’t sense any hostility or anger on Tony’s part on Saturday. He seemed mainly wary and just a tad sad around Margot.
Before I lose courage, I say, “I have enough people to help with the wedding, but if you’d like to do something, it’d mean a lot to me if you and your husband could accept Tony back into your family.”
“Pardon?” Her spine stiffens, her eyes narrowed. Her posture reminds me of a cobra.
I lick my suddenly dry lips. “Imagine how it will look and feel to him if his parents won’t come to his wedding. And he’s accomplished so much. Any parent would be proud of him.”
“You always picked him over me,” she murmurs. “Do you know why he’s been disowned?”
I shake my head. “I only heard he got banished at age twelve because of something he did.”
I realize nobody has told me the exact details, but it couldn’t have been anything that bad. He was just a kid.
She looks at the table as though she needs something strong to drink. “He wasn’t punished because he did something silly and reversible. He killed his baby sister.”
I gasp, a cold denial stuck in my throat. Tony mentioned his baby sister was dead, but he never said he had anything to do with her death.
I reach for my water and take a quick gulp, then immediately wish I hadn’t. Now the denial’s churning in my belly, and I feel nauseated.
Somehow I can’t bring myself to say anything to Margot. I can’t believe what she told me. If he killed his sister, why aren’t Edgar and Harry blaming him too? They genuinely seem to care about Tony. Margot has to be mistaken. Or maybe I misheard.
She gives me a mocking smile. “He didn’t tell you.” An arched eyebrow. “She was an angel, my brilliant child. He took her hunting…then shot her in the chest. She bled to death.” Raw pain and hatred twist her beautiful face. “She was only six. It was his job to keep her safe out in the woods.”
The nausea doesn’t ease. My head is doing its best to get caught up and process what Margot is telling me. But that’s so hard when I feel like somebody just punched me in the stomach. This is the most honest and real reaction out of Margot, so it must be true. But…
“He was only twelve. It had to have been an accident.”
“An accident?” she sneers. “For all that he was young, he was a fabulous marksman. He did not make a mistake when he decided to shoot my Katherine.”
Decided? Does she really believe Tony chose to kill his baby sister? I shake my head, refusing to accept her deranged version of the event. “He’s not a killer. I simply can’t believe it.”
“I’m his mother. I know what kind of violent monster he is.”
