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“Why lie about what she looks like?” I ask.

“Because she had a troubled past. Before she met me, she slept with all the theater patrons. She lived in a rat-infested building. I made her the Swan Queen.” He points at himself. “Everything she was she owed to me. I made her.”

“It doesn’t make any sense.” I blink fast. “You didn’t have to hide her face from me.”

“Yes, I did. I didn’t want you finding a picture of her somewhere and go digging on your own.” He stalks closer to me. “I wanted to spare you the heartache of finding out what she was before she met me.”

“You call her a whore every chance you get.” I swallow. “I wouldn’t have been surprised to find out she slept with patrons for money, Dad.”

“It’s one thing to know and another to see it with your own eyes.” His grinds his teeth. “I saved her. I made her.”

“Is she really dead?” I meet his gaze. Something like guilt flashes in his eyes. My heart races. Since I met Freya, I’ve been so concerned about not knowing Mom’s face, I didn’t stop to consider that she might be alive. “Is she? Dad, please answer.”

“No.” He shakes his head. “She died in a car accident like I told you. You were in the back seat. You survived. But she didn’t.”

That part I knew to be true. The horrible memories of that accident still haunt my dreams. I clearly see a woman, Mom, her profile covered in soot and red streaks. I know she’s my mom because of how tight she holds on to my hand. The pain and panic in her voice makes it hurt everywhere. She wants to protect me, but she can’t because she’s too tired from running. I’m tired too. And all I can think about is how my pink ballet shoes are smeared with red paint.

I don’t realize there’s blood everywhere until I wake up. Every time, the dream is the same. I’ve done enough therapy to know that my nightmares are broken pieces of a memory four-year-old me couldn’t process at the time. It’s all locked away. Every time I try to look inside, my whole-body hurts.

I glance down at my wrist and the fresh cuts there. Dad glares at me because he hates it when I do that. It’s messy, and it makes us look weak. Using the tulle from my skirt, I wipe at the blood. I wince at the pain, but it doesn’t matter. The pain doesn’t mean anything.

“I’m calling Sole. She’ll take you home.” Dad grabs my right upper arm, so I stop messing with my wrist. I’m shaking, and that makes it hard for me to think straight. I had more questions for him, but I can’t sort through them now. He hugs me to him. “You don’t have to go back to that man. You’re coming home, Paloma. It’s over.”

“No, Daddy.” I step away from him. “I’m going home to Archer. He’s my husband.”

“He doesn’t deserve you.” His jaw clenches. “He may have all the money in the world, but he doesn’t own you. I’m your father. You belong to me. I’m?—”

The commotion outside makes him look away and stand at attention. I wipe my tears and focus on the angry voices and many gasps. Dad pulls me aside, but before he can get to the door, it bursts open.

Archer crowds the threshold. His tuxedo shirt has blood stains that probably came from his busted lip. Did he fight his way here?

“Paloma.” That single word carries so much regret and longing. “I’m sorry.”

He’s sorry? Why? Right. Because he stole the pink diamond from me. I turn to face Dad, who’s looking at Archer like he’s a ghost. Archer prowls toward me. “Let’s go home. I will tell you everything.”

“Paloma.” Dad puts up his hands. “You’re coming home with me.”

“The hell she is.” Archer purses his lips. “My wife is coming with me.”

“This whole farce is over.” Dad steps in my direction. When Archer blocks him, Dad calls for his bodyguard. “The marriage was a bad idea. You don’t have legal recourse to enforce the contract she signed.”

“No, I don’t.” Archer smirks. “But she made a vow to me, to love me until death do us part. Whether you like it or not, Paloma is my wife. And she wants to be with me.”

“She detests you. The only reason she’s with you is to protect me. But I’m releasing her from that promise right now.” Dad moves to the side to look at me. “Come with me, Paloma, and all is forgiven. I’ll tell you anything you want to know about your mother. I have her pictures. The real ones.”

A heavy weight lifts off my chest. He finally admitted that he lied about the pictures. Hearing him actually speak the truth makes me smile because I was beginning to think I was crazy for calling him a liar. But I’m not. He lied. I lift my head to look at Archer. Dad’s also admitting that Freya isn’t my mother. Archer is not my half-brother.

“Paloma.” Archer cups my face. “Don’t listen to him. He’ll just lie some more. He’s been lying to everyone for so long, I seriously doubt he remembers what’s real and what’s not. Please believe me when I tell you, your father is dangerous.”

“Archer.” I sob and bury my face in the nook of his neck and shoulder. In this moment, I realize that I don’t care about anything. I only care about being with Archer. But we were never meant to be. “Archer.” I repeat his name because what I want to say to him, I can’t say in front of Dad.

He nods. As always, he can read my thoughts. “Let’s go home. We’ll talk. I will indulge every one of your questions.”

“Okay.” I grip his biceps. “I have a car outside.”

“No.” Dad blocks the door. “She’s not going anywhere with you.”

“Step aside, Maurice.” Archer puts emphasis on Dad’s first name. I don’t miss how Dad winces as if his own name is the biggest insult. Archer takes my hand. “My wife and I are leaving.”