Chapter 5
The imaginary baby was supposed to die at a secluded Lombardi lake house.
No hospital.
No outside doctors.
Vanessa would supposedly go into labor early during a private family retreat.
The next morning, Diane would announce that the baby had not survived.
Grief would discourage questions.
Julian’s new position would already be settled.
The pregnancy would have completed its purpose.
Then everyone would mourn someone who had never existed.
My son sat with his elbows on his knees and stared at the aquarium wall.
Blue light moved across his face.
“I would have buried him.”
No one answered.
He looked at Vanessa.
“You were going to let me bury nothing.”
She whispered:
“I didn’t know how to stop.”
That was the wrong answer.
Julian stood.
“You could have told me.”
“I would’ve lost you.”
“Yes.”
His voice broke.
“You should have.”
Good.
Painful.
True.
Vanessa covered her stomach instinctively again, then seemed to realize there was nothing there to protect.
I almost pitied her.
Almost.
Then Julian said:
“And Avice?”
Vanessa looked away.
He moved closer.
“What did you say to my daughter?”
Silence.
“Vanessa.”
She started crying.
“I told her the baby would need more attention.”
“That’s not what she said.”
Julian’s voice became colder.
“She said you told her the boy would get her chair.”
Vanessa looked at Diane.
There it was again.
My sister.
Always the stronger gravity.
Diane answered.
“Avice needed preparation.”
I turned.
“For being replaced?”
“For not being the center of every room.”
I stared at her.
“She is three.”
“And already indulged.”
No remorse.
Good.
Villains are easiest to understand when they stop pretending kindness.
Diane continued.
“She runs to you and everyone moves. She cries and Julian rearranges dinner. She makes cards and expects adults to praise them.”
I almost laughed.
“You are describing being loved.”
“I’m describing entitlement.”
“No.”
I looked toward the library where Avice was safely drawing beside a guard.
“You are describing a child who believed family was safe enough to approach.”
That irritated Diane.
Because she had never valued approachability.
May you like
Only respect.
And in her world, respect looked suspiciously similar to fear.
