Heather couldn’t help but wonder why he didn’t he have Caius’s face. He looked like soone else entirely. And barely even like Lauren.
Heather didn’t want to think too hard about it.
What are they doing here? Did Amaranth bring them here?
"Why are they here?"
Amaranth turned to her, startled by the tone. "Aren’t they your family?"
As far as she was concerned, her only family was Alex and Penelope. The people in that room? They were strangers who just happened to share her blood.
Her father had never loved her. His marriage to her mother was a business deal. Even then, he cheated—slept with Evelyn, who gave birth to a child older than Heather.
Heather still rembered Evelyn whispering to her as a child, saying she and her father were ant to be. That it all worked out once "the trash" was taken care of.
She ant Heather’s mother.
Heather had looked into it years later. The report said her mother had "tripped" down the stairs.
At that ti, she was already seven months pregnant. Because of the fall, Heather had been born premature.
At the hospital, the doctors told her father he could only save one—his wife or his unborn child.
And he chose Heather. She wasn’t sure if she should be grateful.
Sotis, it felt like he saved her just to leave her behind. He never looked at her like a daughter. Only like a mistake he couldn’t erase.
So no, she wasn’t happy to see them. She wasn’t touched or surprised, she was angry.
Now, he was sitting here casually, as though they had spoken in years. When the last words she’d heard from him had been about "being a disappointnt."
Years ago—when she was five and still foolish enough to think love was simple, and family ant safety.
She rembered maids telling her that Evelyn wasn’t her mother. She knew that because Evelyn kept telling her everyday.
And the maids told her that Evelyn moved into their ho just weeks after her mother’s funeral—smiling too easily, walking too comfortably, wearing pearls that didn’t belong to her.
As a child, Heather had looked at the woman through innocent lenses, unable to fully grasp the betrayal living with her. But now?
Now she was older and wiser. And she knew what she was looking at.
Suddenly, her mother’s mory had been erased. That kind of speed wasn’t normal. Not unless they were part of the cause.
Her father had chosen to save her that night—asked the doctors to save the baby, not the mother. Heather used to wonder if she should be thankful.
Now she wondered if he knew her mother would have exposed them. If that’s why he had her silenced instead.
Now, decades later, he sat in front of her again—on Thorne territory—with those sa devilish eyes that hadn’t aged a day.
Heather’s throat felt tight as she swallowed, but her voice ca out steady, though flat.
"Hello... Father."
The word tasted like rot in her mouth. She said it more out of habit than anything.
The way you’d nod at a stranger on the street who made eye contact too long. Polite and empty.
She resisted the urge to walk up and shove him down a flight of stairs. Just once. Not enough to kill him.
Just enough to let him feel it. The betrayal and loss. The helplessness of falling and having no one catch you.
He offered the softest smile. The kind he used in public, for appearances. And she used to think ant sothing when she was a child.
"Heather... is that you?" he asked, as if she were a ghost appearing after a decade of silence.
Evelyn chid in almost imdiately. "Oh, Heather. Co give your mother a hug."
Heather didn’t move.
That word again. Mother. Evelyn wore it like a stolen coat, trying to make it fit. But it hung loose on her, cheap, wrong, absurd.
"You’re not my mother," Heather said simply, her voice sounded cool and composed as she stepped further into the room.
She didn’t miss the way Evelyn’s face faltered—just for a second. The corners of her mouth twitched before curling into a taut, disbelieving smile.
When did this stupid girl grow teeth? Evelyn’s narrowed eyes seed to say.
But she turned back to Amaranth, she had already smoothed her face into the sa polished mask again.
"What’s going on here?" Heather asked Amaranth, finally acknowledging her.
"I thought it would be... aningful. Now that we’re family, it seed appropriate for everyone to co together—to celebrate this union."
Of course she did.
Heather didn’t bla her, but she gave a tight nod. Amaranth liked peace. She liked allies, but she didn’t know who she had invited into her ho.
The Remington’s didn’t form alliances. They took and took until nothing was left but ash.
"Yes," Evelyn said quickly, eager to steer the room. "This is about the marriage between Caius and my daughter, isn’t it?"
She gestured—not to Heather—but to Lauren, sitting across the room in a dress that was just tight enough to demand attention.
Amaranth’s brow arched. "I’m sorry... and you are?"
"I’m Lauren," she replied, rising with practiced grace. "We’ve t, actually. Your son brought in the other day."
She smiled like she was already married into the family.
Heather watched Amaranth’s eyes narrow—only slightly—but enough.
Lauren walked across the room with a grace she’d been rehearsing her whole life.
"And this," Evelyn said, like a ga show hostess introducing the grand prize, "is her son. Your grandson, Asher."
Amaranth blinked. "Oh," she had clearly been taken off guard. She looked from Lauren to the small boy seated beside her.
The boy had dark hair, big eyes, and an awkward way of sitting—like he’d been coached not to slouch.
"Caius... has a child with you?" Amaranth asked, her gaze snapped between Lauren and the child, then drifted toward Heather.
Heather said nothing, instead she walked calmly to the settee and sat down, her leg was crossed over the other.
She reached for a sandwich on the tray beside her because she didn’t want to face Amaranth’s questioning gaze.
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