Page 131 of What You left in Me

Inside, it smells different. The maid, Lydia looks startled when she sees me, like she’s not sure I’m real.

“Mr. Wagner,” she says, voice small. “You’re home.”

“Yeah.” I shrug out of my jacket. “Where’s Dad?”

“In the study.”

“And Ariane?”

Her eyes widen like she didn’t witness the biggest scandal this time has seen when she saw Ariane laying naked in front of me. Her hesitation is answer enough. “The garden, I think.”

Figures.

I head for my room first, because that’s the only room in this place that doesn’t feel like a tomb. Dust in the corners,whiskey half-empty on the desk, the faint scent of Ariane’s skin still clinging to the furniture. I pour a glass, down it, and let the burn hit.

One week in New York and I barely slept. I closed deals, signed contracts, smiled for cameras — all the usual bullshit that keeps my empire running — but my head was full of her. The sound she makes when she’s angry. The tremor in her voice when she said complains.

The door creaks behind me. I don’t turn.

“Seven days,” she says. Her voice is hoarse. “That’s how long it took for you to remember we existed.”

I turn then. She’s in the doorway, arms crossed, hair loose, eyes red like she’s been fighting herself all morning. She looks exhausted. Beautiful. Dangerous. An angel.

“I had business,” I say.

“Business,” she echoes, flat. “Right. Did you buy another company, or just another way to justify being a bastard?”

“Both.” I lean against the desk, hiding the joy I’m feeling because she’s angry, which means she can go back to normal. “You look tired.”

“I lookhuman.” She steps in slowly. “Something you should try sometime.”

I smile, uncouth. “I did. It got me fucked over by every person I ever loved. Including you.”

Her breath catches, just barely. “Don’t you dare put that on me.”

I take another sip. “Who else would I put it on? Dad? He’s half-dead. Eleanor? She’s halfway to hell.”

Her eyes widen. There’s a mix of guilt and anger in them. Her voice drops to a whisper when she asks, “Where is she?”

“Gone.”

“Gone where?”

I set the glass down. “Anywhere that isn’t here. I gave her money. Enough to start over.”

Her mouth opens, then closes. “Youpaidher?”

“She’s your mother,” I say quietly. “I wasn’t going to put her in prison, no matter how much she fucking deserved it.”

Her voice trembles. “You forgave her? You let her go?”

“I letyougo too,” I say, avoiding the first question. I’m not sure if I actually did forgive her. “For a week. Didn’t like it either time.”

She laughs, broken. “You can’t just keep fixing things with money and guilt, Finn.”

“Sure, I can,” I say. “It’s what I’m good at.”

She shakes her head, pacing now, hands trembling. “You could’ve walked away. From here. From Richard… from me. Back to New York.”