The Girl in the Mirror(70)

I look down at the irises, now crushed and pulpy in my hands. I slam them down on the cart.

“Is that how it’s going to be?” I say. “Is that how things are between us? After you laid it on so thick about your grief and anguish, lying awake at night—”

The door opens. Colton hurries in.

“Summer! My princess!” I’m caught up in a bear hug. “And Ben! My man! What are you doing in Australia?”

Ben hastily smooths his hair and shakes Colton’s outstretched hand. “Um, I—I’m here for the memorial service Mum’s planning for Iris’s birthday. My visit was kinda meant to be a surprise for Summer, but . . . well . . . I’m not going to be able to make it. I’ve got to catch the first flight back to New York. So, maybe don’t tell Mum that you saw me. It’s a long story. I don’t want to upset her. I’ll tell her that I never got here, that I missed my flight.”

“I understand, of course,” says Colton, looking like he clearly doesn’t. My uncle is in a suit and tie and carries a slim leather briefcase. “I’m sorry you have to leave so soon. I hope it’s not serious? If there’s anything I can do?”

“No, no,” says Ben. “Just a thing with uni, with my studies. I’ve got to get back. The only thing you could do is not talk about today. And I know Summer can keep a secret.” He can barely keep the contempt out of his voice. “Take care, Summer. I have to go. Don’t know when I’ll see you again.”

He walks out the door.

I’ve lost my brother. I can tell from the look in his eyes, from the tone of his voice, that he’s gone. I’ll never see him again.

I don’t want the money anymore. I’m tempted to send Colton packing, to send him straight to Virginia, wherever she is, to put her name on the paperwork. She deserves the money. She is carrying the true heir. She’s been through more shit than I have, and none of it was her fault.

I wouldn’t care if I had to work every day of my life to make ends meet, as long as I could hold my head up high and look my brother in the eye. Look my daughter in the eye.

But Ben’s right. This isn’t just about money. How could I think I would escape a murder charge by leaving the Seychelles? What about the Australian police? They would hardly let this lie. I can’t remember which country has jurisdiction if a murder happens at sea. It’s something to do with where the ship is registered—

“Summer,” says Colton, “the baby’s making a strange noise.”

I start. Colton is picking up my baby, whose grunting is getting more forceful, though she’s still asleep.

As I snatch her out of his arms, the door opens, and Ben walks back in. “I almost forgot the most important thing. I’ve sent you some emails, sister.” The last word drips with meaning. “You need to check them. Then you’ll know how things stand.”

And he’s gone, this time for real.

Colton looks perplexed. I shrug, as if to suggest that this is mere sibling banter. But I know what it means. This is it, then. An email setting out “how things stand.” Because the money’s the only thing that can keep me out of prison.

Hush money. Ben is blackmailing me.

I ought to be relieved that Ben’s not planning to expose me, and no doubt his demands will be reasonable, but that’s not what I feel. Everything around me—the room, the flowers, my uncle—seems a bare outline, like I’m living in a hollow world. It was bad when I was never going to hear from Ben again, but this is worse.

Colton pulls a pile of papers out of his briefcase. “I know this isn’t a great time,” he says. “I’ll try to be quick.”

“I don’t understand,” I say. “Adam’s on his way to your office to pick up the paperwork. Didn’t he tell you?”

“Yes.” Colton hesitates. “Adam was keen to sort it all out for you, but I felt I needed to speak to you in person. As I said, I’m determined to do this properly. I know you don’t like handling money, but you do have certain responsibilities now as trustee. Ideally, you and Adam should both be signatories on the slush fund account.”

“Of course,” I say.

“Well, that’s not how it’s set up at the moment. And you do have the right to spend it as you see fit, but you should be passing formal resolutions before you divert it to Romain Travel. Is that noise she’s making normal?”

Esther is grunting with each breath, though she still hasn’t woken up. “I expect she needs a feed,” I say. “And I kind of need privacy for that. She’s been sleeping all day, so she’s probably starving. Maybe you could leave the papers with me?”

“Adam seems to want to sort this ASAP,” says Colton. “I thought babies never slept? She’s tiny, isn’t she?”

The grunting has become a groan, as though Esther is trying to tell me something. Is it cute, or is something wrong?

“What’s the time?” I ask.

“Three, no, nearly four.”

She’s slept nine hours. And I’m really not sure if she should be making that noise. I turn my back on Colton and focus on my baby’s face. Her color seems to have changed in the past minute, even in the past few seconds. She’s almost gray.

“Wake up, baby,” I whisper. I jostle her gently and kiss her little forehead, but she doesn’t wake up.