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“Tell her the other thing,” Levi says.
“What other thing?” I ask.
Marc averts my eyes. “I tried to get you to move back to us after you were living alone in the apartment.”
“He hired some men to ransack your apartment that night,” Landon says.
“They were instructed not to hurt you,” Uncle Marc says. “Nothing serious would have happened. I’m sorry. I… I couldn’t have you near them anymore, and it was the perfect opportunity.”
All that to get me away from Sebastian? “Why do our families hate each other so much? So much that you’d rather make me fear for my life than try to get over it?”
Marc flinches at the accusation in my tone. But I need to know the full truth if I’m ever going to move forward.
“Tell me,” I demand. “Why do our families hate each other so much?”
“I-It’s not so simple.” Marc fidgets with his hands.
“Marc blames John for your parents’ deaths,” Landon continues in his usual detached voice. “And John feels the same about Marc.”
“That’s the start between John and me. But it all started earlier. See, your mother, Rose, was like family to John Barron. He cared for her like… a brother.”
“They knew each other, too?”
“Too?” Uncle Marc asks.
“Sloan told me she and my mother were best friends.”
“Yes, from college. They all met there,” Levi says.
My heart races. “My father, too?”
“Yes.” Marc meets my gaze, his eyes clouded with old pains. “James… he struggled. John outdid him at everything—grades, sports, business. Your mother was the only trophy James ever won over John. And he clung to her desperately.”
My hands curl into fists.
Marc continues. “After college, your father’s jealousy and insecurities grew. His business failed, and his pride crumbled. The drinking got worse.”
Images of my Dad’s face filled with rage, calling me a spoiled brat, flash in my mind. “Is that why he was always so angry?”
“Do you remember him?” Landon asks.
“I remember Mom protecting me from him,” I say. “At least, I think she did. The memories are hazy, but they feel real. He looked at me and questioned what I was still doing here. It could be my fantasy going wild, but…” It’s so real. Like I can hear every noise, feel the aura in the room, my skin prickling with goosebumps.
Uncle Marc rubs a hand over his beard. “Lil, whatever I tell you—your parents loved you. Your mother did what she thought was right to protect you, caught between her love for James and the harsh reality of his condition. Your father became paranoid. The pills and the alcohol were messing with his head. He thought you weren’t his daughter but John’s. He thought Rose cheated on him. At first, it was arguments.” Marc pauses. “But over time, your father grew more violent. Your mother tried to protect you from the worst of it.”
Protect me… like telling me to hide from the monsters.
He continues. “Your mother said she had it under control, but as things spiraled, your father became a danger to himself, your mother, and you. That day she did what she felt was necessary.”
I whisper, almost afraid of the answer, “What did she do?”
He hesitates, gathering himself. “Reports said it was a knife fight. Your mother defended herself, but your father… She made an impossible choice. She sacrificed herself for you. Unfortunately, the wounds were too grave. By the time help arrived, it was too late for them both.”
My hands fly to my mouth, muffling a small sound—a whimper or a sob—that escapes me, the room spinning around me. The pool of blood beneath my feat. Mom’s weak voice.
It all makes sense now. The little girl inside the closet.
Tears stream down my cheeks, unbidden and unchecked. My heart aches for the pain my mother must have endured, for the love and protection she offered me in the face of such darkness. And for my father, consumed by the demons within him, driven to a place where he could neither love nor be loved.