Page 17 of Unleash Hades (Ungoverned Spaces #5)

Calissandra

I woke up early to see Rafe. Today’s words of wisdom? “Keep your loved ones close.”

There he was, being wise and prophetic again. Those words stuck in my head as I went back into our building, and headed back up the elevator.

The boys came into the breakfast room in flannel pajama pants and t-shirts, their hair tousled from sleep.

I had been unprepared for the strangeness of teenage boys - the smell, the lethargy, explosive emotions and, most importantly, the heartache of realizing that they weren’t your little boys anymore.

They were becoming big men, in a bigger world.

And the world had a tendency to rot the souls of rich young men…

I liked them this way. Sweet, sitting at their mummy’s table.

Disheveled, loving, and pure. They were sweet toddlers when they had first become mine. Romulus stayed sweet, but Remus? He developed the prickles and anger of an adolescent man.

It was amazing how much identical twins could differ.

They were the same tall height, with copper hair that waved at their temples.

Sky blue eyes looked out from below low, prominent brows.

They had matured into their lips. The top was thin, while the bottom was plump, and square, giving the permanent look of a pout.

They even had identical freckles at their throat.

Still, the differences between them were staggering. Romulus was right-handed, while Remus preferred his left. Romulus excelled in art and humanities, while Remus preferred numbers and found humanity, as a species, tedious.

Even the way they stood was absolutely different. Romulus always had a relaxed posture, but Remus looked like a bull about to charge a matador. He vibrated with the energy of a predator ready to attack.

“Hi, Mummy,” said Romulus, as he leaned down to kiss my cheek.

My not-so-sweet, though no-less-loving, Remus sat across from me, and gave me a curt nod. “Good morning, Mother.”

I laughed, because as serious as he might be, he was still my baby boy. Even if I never had them as babies. But Remus was obviously too old to have a Mummy .

“Good morning, my darling boys.”

Morning light drifted in through the French doors of the balcony that faced Central Park. The city was still sleeping, the streets devoid of the usual honking horns and construction.

My family rose early, even on the weekends, at the insistence of Richard, who did not believe in sloth.

Of course, the rules didn’t apply to him, though, as he was noticeably absent from the table. Not because he slept in… but because he was elsewhere. But we never mentioned it.

“Mummy?” Romulus said, breaking open a croissant and filling it with sweet strawberry jam.

“Yes, sweetheart?” I loved using endearments for my boys.

I did it with Richard because it placated him. Like kissing the ring of an egotistical dictator. It showed devotion, and kept the pretense that we were a loving married couple. But with my boys? The words of love fell freely from my mouth, and as I gave it, my resolve hardened.

I would be a good mother since theirs was gone.

“Will you stay home for a while?” His voice was grim, like this was the most solemn of requests. “Do you have any more assignments that would take you overseas?”

Poor boys. They were used to me packing my bags and going away to cover some catastrophe or other. But I had been firm this summer. I wanted to concentrate on my family. I wanted to fill them with love and assurances before I turned their world upside down.

“Of course,” I promised, wondering where this was coming from. “The only traveling I’ll do will be scheduled around you two.”

“You’ll take us to Cambridge? And maybe…” Romulus flushed, his cheeks turning red.

“What is it, darling?” I reached out and held my son’s hand in mine, looking at him patiently, as he figured out what he was going to say.

In a lot of ways, he reminded me of Chloe. The hesitance to ask for things, even though they were well within reason.

“He wants you to take us around Laurent Estates,” Remus supplied. “And…”

Romulus flushed a crimson red, as his brother spoke for him.

It was something he hated. It bothered me too, the way Remus could just plough over someone, so I stepped in.

“Don’t speak for Rom, Remus,” I chided, trying to look stern. But it was hard. Everything they did was precious, even when it wasn’t.

“You indulge him too much, Mother.” My eldest boy - elder by minutes - looked at me with the same condescending look of his father.

How tragic that he was truly their father. They did not know it, of course. They were told they were the fatherless sons of a maid, generously adopted by their rich employers after their Maman passed in an accident. But over the years, their resemblance to Richard grew.

Everyone suspected. But like with so many things, I towed the line and lied about their origins. I lied so much, sometimes, I wondered if I was losing touch with the truth.

“Just tell her,” Remus said, letting out an exasperated sigh as he rolled his dark eyes.

Romulus bit his lower lip.

“Say it!” Remus practically shouted, snapping his fingers at his little brother who fumed in his seat, crossing his arms and pouting like he was a toddler again.

“Be kind to your brother,” I reprimanded Remus again. “You can’t just bully everyone to do what you want.”

“Of course, I can, Mother,” he said with a snort. “It’s the very definition of power.”

“And power is, by its existence, evil.” Romulus glared.

“Power is just a tool,” Remus said with a chortle, purposely egging on his brother. “Villainize it all you like, it is a fact that some people will have power, while others do not.”

“You’re a philistine!” Romulus lashed out.

“Boys!” I chided them both this time. I shook my head, as a poisonous thought entered my mind - Remus was so much like his father sometimes, it frightened me.

Would he hurt someone like me one day?

“Romulus, what did you want to ask me?”

Romulus took a deep breath and shut his eyes. It was something I’d been working with him on since pre-school - how to channel his frustrations and control his strong feelings. Meditation, breathing exercises, centering. He had such a big heart, and big feelings came with it.

“I want to meet Aunt Chloe,” he finally said, calmly.

I froze. “Oh…”

I hadn’t kept the fact that I had a sister a secret from them.

I didn’t like keeping secrets from them at all, even though I had to.

I swore to be as honest as possible. When they were of a mind to ask about Santa Clause, I never told them he was real, but that some people believed certain things.

I never deceived them about a tooth fairy, even as I hid the coins beneath their pillows.

Their father would lie to them enough for the both of us.

Even though Chloe occupied my thoughts each day, I hadn’t realized that my sons thought about her too.

“She’s a really good humanitarian, and I was thinking that… that…” Romulus stumbled for the words. My sweet, shy little man.

“You want to be a doctor,” I said, trying to smile at him with understanding, even as my heart pounded in my chest. “She’s a good role model.”

Neither of my sons wanted to be journalists. It was just as well, it was a horrid occupation.

Romulus would be a gentle, kind, healing hand. Remus would probably become a general, or a dictator.

“Yeah… does that make you angry?” Romulus said, closing the door after he climbed in.

“Why would it?”

“Because we don’t talk to her, ever. And I thought…”

Whatever he thought hung in the air between us, as he worried his plump bottom lip between his teeth.

They thought I didn’t like my sister.

I had cultivated that impression. I had to pretend distance between us, so that Richard could not use her against me… against the family estates. Not the way he used Adelia. How he used her to keep me in line, and when that was threatened, he sacrificed her as if she were a lamb on the altar.

Now that Chloe was a doctor, and happily married, she’d be out of his grasp. He would not be able to suck her into this life under his thumb.

One phone call couldn’t hurt. It was about the boys. Richard would never hurt the boys… right? Not even he could be so callous.

“I’ll call her,” I whispered, biting my lower lip to keep complicated emotions from bubbling up. I suppressed them, even as Romulus looked at me with bright elation.

“Really?” He let out a breath of relief.

“Don’t get your hopes up, love,” I said, patting him on the cheek. “I haven’t spoken to my sister in decades.”

That was a lie. I had spoken to her at Christmas, when Richard dragged me to see Philippa Fox and George Campbell at their Venice wedding, hoping to get a glimpse of Callum MacLachlan to discuss some proprietary technology…

something about a tracker he said he wanted for our journalists in dangerous parts of the world.

Small enough to be hidden in the seam of clothing.

“She’s very busy.” I wasn’t sure how she’d react to a call from me. “But I will try.”

Romulus, the sweet boy that he was, could barely control his excitement, no matter how much I tried to temper it.

“Thank you Mummy,” he said with a smile, getting up to wrap an arm around my shoulder in a side-hug.

“Anything for you, my boy,” I said, returning his embrace a little longer than I should have.

Everything was for my boys.