Page 12 of Secrets of the Past (Secrets of Mustang Island #3)

N icole had seen her the moment she walked into the courtroom.

The witch herself. Mrs. Masterson.

She sat in the gallery like a queen in exile, pearls gleaming at her throat, hair lacquered into submission. Regal, controlled, watching every move Nicole made. And though she hadn’t spoken, Nicole had felt the silent verdict in her eyes: unworthy. Always unworthy.

At the end of the day, she saw the witch talking to Tripp. Good. She didn’t want to speak to her ever again, if she could help herself. She walked down the hall to her office, dropped off some paperwork, checked phone messages, then headed out the door to the parking lot. Time to get out of here.

She lugged her briefcase, files, and marched toward the parking lot.

Then she froze.

Mrs. Masterson was there. Waiting. Perfectly poised beside Nicole’s car as if she had every right to be standing guard.

Nicole’s stomach tightened. Ambush.

She squared her shoulders and kept her tone clipped. “Excuse me. You’re standing by my car.”

The older woman didn’t budge. “Nicole, we need to talk.”

The sound of her name in that tone was a lash across the skin. Nicole crossed her arms. “About what? I have nothing to say to you. You got what you wanted twenty years ago. You broke Tripp and me apart.”

Mrs. Masterson sighed, the picture of weary patience. “What’s in the past should remain there. Digging it up serves no one.”

Nicole barked a short laugh. “That’s convenient.

Sweep the wreckage under the rug and pretend it never happened?

Tell me, are you afraid Tripp will be angry when he finds out you interfered?

Or is this really about you being terrified we might find our way back to each other?

” She leaned closer, eyes narrowed. “Still not good enough for your precious son?”

Mrs. Masterson’s smile didn’t falter, but her eyes sharpened.

“You mistake me. My only concern has ever been Tripp’s happiness.

And frankly, you were never suited to the life he deserves.

You were… how shall I put it? A distraction.

Pretty enough. Ambitious. But not the kind of woman who could build a future with him. ”

The words sliced through Nicole, hot and merciless. She forced herself to stand straighter, though her fists itched to clench. “And who decides what kind of woman is worthy? You?”

Mrs. Masterson’s lips curved faintly, an almost pitying smile. “He’s dating someone now. A young woman from a very fine family. Educated. Polished. She understands him. She belongs in his world.”

The splinter lodged deeper. Tripp hadn’t mentioned anyone, but the fact that his mother was flaunting it felt like a deliberate blow.

Nicole laughed, sharp and brittle. “You are afraid. Well, let me put your fears to rest. I don’t want Tripp or his baggage, which includes you.

I have a good life, one I built without your approval or your money.

” Her voice cracked with steel. “Sad, isn’t it?

Once, I loved your son more than life itself.

But that’s long gone. Now, we’re just two lawyers battling in court.

Nothing more. And your son sure doesn’t look happy to me. ”

For the briefest moment, Mrs. Masterson’s smile faltered, her mask slipping before sliding neatly back into place. “Good. Because Tripp deserves peace. Stability. Not someone who brings… drama in her wake.”

Nicole bristled. “You mean not someone who ever dared love him on her own terms.”

The pearls at Mrs. Masterson’s throat glinted as she tilted her head. “I mean not someone who would ruin him.”

The words landed with brutal finality.

Nicole stepped in, closing the space between them until only inches remained. “You don’t intimidate me anymore. Not like you did back then. And just so we’re clear, in this courtroom, your son doesn’t get a crown. And when this trial is over, he will lose to me. Badly.”

For the first time, Mrs. Masterson’s expression hardened, the pearls of her composure straining.

Then she stepped back, smoothing her skirt with slow precision.

“So be it. Just remember, Nicole, when this is over, win or lose, you’ll still be on the outside.

You always will be. I’ll never accept you and your trashy family.

Who, by the way, played their role in your separation. ”

The words ripped through her like a blade, sharp and merciless. She’d feared it, dreaded it, but hearing it from this woman’s mouth was agony, each syllable a fresh stab, carving her open until she could barely breathe.

Nicole shoved past her, hand on the driver’s door. She slid into the seat, started the car, and gripped the wheel until her knuckles whitened.

Mrs. Masterson lingered, that same faint, pitying smile flickering once more before she turned and glided away.

How did this woman still do it? How, after all these years, could she crawl under Nicole’s skin and leave her shaking? Why couldn’t she just dismiss her for what she was, a bitter, controlling society matron desperate to control her son’s life?

Nicole let her forehead rest against the wheel. A tear slid down her cheek before she could stop it.

And then, inevitably, came the image of Tripp. His steady eyes, the way he carried himself in the courtroom, the quiet strength she used to lean on.

She had sworn she was done with him. Those twenty years of pain had taught her better. But the truth pressed hard against her heart: she wasn’t as free as she wanted to believe.

She was still fighting battles that had started decades ago, against him, against his mother, against herself.

And sitting there, alone in her car with her hands trembling on the wheel, Nicole wondered if she would ever stop.

What was she doing?