Page 73
Story: Code Name: Typhon
“Thank you for bringing me over here,” I said as we were leaving.
“Time to head to Bill’s, lass.”
“Ugh.” My groan was audible.
His smile was sympathetic, and I imagined it was the kind a good father would give their daughter.
“Hello, Eliza,” my mother said when she came in the front door of the restaurant where I was waiting. Unlike with my father, we cheek-kissed.
“I can seat you now if you’d like,” said the woman who’d greeted me when Mike and I arrived a few minutes ago.
“Thank you.” I motioned for my mother to go ahead. Likely, after years of having to do so with my father, she chose the chair facing away from the entrance. I happily took the one opposite.
“Your father informed me of your disrespectful behavior the day he so graciously invited you to his club.”
“I had plans,” I muttered.
“That is not why we’re meeting. It’s the other things you’ve done.”
My eyes opened wide. Things I’d done? What would that be other than my doing my level best to avoid spending time with my parents since I was old enough to do so? “On with it, then.” I looked at my watch in the same way she had when I was younger and trying to discuss something with her. The message, then and now, was her impatience at having to listen to something that held little interest.
“While I’m certain Nigel was more than happy to carry out your plan to ruin us, what you instigated disgusts me.”
I blinked several times in quick succession. What on earth was she talking about?
“After all we’ve done for you both, rather than thank us, you’ve set out to ensure we’re bankrupted.”
“From what I understand, the seriousness of your debt was all on you. For the record, I didn’t instigate anything. What Niven did?—”
“You always were a liar,” she spat, albeit quietly enough so those in the dining area didn’t hear her. It was all about appearances with both my parents. Actually, I found it surprising she’d agreed to meet in public. I glanced over at the bar and saw Mike watching us. Had he heard? She was facing him, after all. Maybe he could lip-read.
“What do you want?” I had no intention of giving her anything; I just wanted to know how bad their current situation was, given it had to be dire for her to drive to Brighton just to speak with me.
“The apartment.”
“Sorry. What did you say?”
“Your father and I will be moving into your flat in Mayfair. We know you unceremoniously removed the Stanley family from their home.”
“It’s my home. Grandmother left it to me.” I clenched my fists. She’d baited me, and I took it. Why hadn’t I kept my mouth shut, even if it took literally biting my tongue?
“Yes, well, you did an outstanding job of manipulating her, didn’t you?”
I laughed out loud. “Yes, you’re right. All those days I spent at her graveside as a toddler certainly paid off. I was four years old when she died.”
“It was Margaret’s doing.”
“She was their daughter, as you are not.” Something occurred to me. “Is this why she supported you for all those years? Purchased the apartment for you? Did Nigel guilt her into it?”
She raised a brow, perhaps at the use of my father’s first name. “She owed us in the same way you do?—”
“I owe you nothing, and neither did she.”
Her eyes bored into mine. “We never should’ve permitted you to attend boarding school in the States. You were spoiled and selfish before your year there, and you returned far worse. You were a wretched child who’s turned into a vengeful, spiteful, acrimonious adult.”
“Perhaps if I hadn’t been feral.” I shook my head. Again, I was engaging when I had no intention of doing so. “Given you are incapable of acknowledging that you and Father are responsible for every plight you face, I see no point in continuing this discussion. I will not allow the two of you to move into my home, nor will I give you any money.”
“You miserable…”
“Time to head to Bill’s, lass.”
“Ugh.” My groan was audible.
His smile was sympathetic, and I imagined it was the kind a good father would give their daughter.
“Hello, Eliza,” my mother said when she came in the front door of the restaurant where I was waiting. Unlike with my father, we cheek-kissed.
“I can seat you now if you’d like,” said the woman who’d greeted me when Mike and I arrived a few minutes ago.
“Thank you.” I motioned for my mother to go ahead. Likely, after years of having to do so with my father, she chose the chair facing away from the entrance. I happily took the one opposite.
“Your father informed me of your disrespectful behavior the day he so graciously invited you to his club.”
“I had plans,” I muttered.
“That is not why we’re meeting. It’s the other things you’ve done.”
My eyes opened wide. Things I’d done? What would that be other than my doing my level best to avoid spending time with my parents since I was old enough to do so? “On with it, then.” I looked at my watch in the same way she had when I was younger and trying to discuss something with her. The message, then and now, was her impatience at having to listen to something that held little interest.
“While I’m certain Nigel was more than happy to carry out your plan to ruin us, what you instigated disgusts me.”
I blinked several times in quick succession. What on earth was she talking about?
“After all we’ve done for you both, rather than thank us, you’ve set out to ensure we’re bankrupted.”
“From what I understand, the seriousness of your debt was all on you. For the record, I didn’t instigate anything. What Niven did?—”
“You always were a liar,” she spat, albeit quietly enough so those in the dining area didn’t hear her. It was all about appearances with both my parents. Actually, I found it surprising she’d agreed to meet in public. I glanced over at the bar and saw Mike watching us. Had he heard? She was facing him, after all. Maybe he could lip-read.
“What do you want?” I had no intention of giving her anything; I just wanted to know how bad their current situation was, given it had to be dire for her to drive to Brighton just to speak with me.
“The apartment.”
“Sorry. What did you say?”
“Your father and I will be moving into your flat in Mayfair. We know you unceremoniously removed the Stanley family from their home.”
“It’s my home. Grandmother left it to me.” I clenched my fists. She’d baited me, and I took it. Why hadn’t I kept my mouth shut, even if it took literally biting my tongue?
“Yes, well, you did an outstanding job of manipulating her, didn’t you?”
I laughed out loud. “Yes, you’re right. All those days I spent at her graveside as a toddler certainly paid off. I was four years old when she died.”
“It was Margaret’s doing.”
“She was their daughter, as you are not.” Something occurred to me. “Is this why she supported you for all those years? Purchased the apartment for you? Did Nigel guilt her into it?”
She raised a brow, perhaps at the use of my father’s first name. “She owed us in the same way you do?—”
“I owe you nothing, and neither did she.”
Her eyes bored into mine. “We never should’ve permitted you to attend boarding school in the States. You were spoiled and selfish before your year there, and you returned far worse. You were a wretched child who’s turned into a vengeful, spiteful, acrimonious adult.”
“Perhaps if I hadn’t been feral.” I shook my head. Again, I was engaging when I had no intention of doing so. “Given you are incapable of acknowledging that you and Father are responsible for every plight you face, I see no point in continuing this discussion. I will not allow the two of you to move into my home, nor will I give you any money.”
“You miserable…”
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