Chapter 6: What Lucinda Knew
Silvio found his sister in the conservatory at noon.
She was sitting with a cup of tea she hadn't touched, looking out at the garden.
She looked tired in a way that had nothing to do with last night.
She looked tired in the way of someone who had been tired for a very long time and had simply stopped noticing it.
Silvio sat down across from her and put Aldric's document on the table between them.
Lucinda looked at it.
She didn't reach for it.
"You already know what it says," Silvio said.
She picked up her tea.
Put it down again.
"Where did you get that?"
"Aldric sent it this morning."
"You called Aldric."
"Yes."
She was quiet for a moment.
Outside, a gardener was moving slowly along the far hedge.
The sound of the shears came through the glass in a slow, steady rhythm.
"Grant found out about the amendment eight months ago," Lucinda said.
"He had someone go through Dad's files."
"And you let him."
"I didn't know he'd done it until after." She paused.
"By then he'd already started talking about it.
About how unfair it was.
About how Dad had always preferred you.
About how the amendment was Dad's way of punishing him even from the grave."
"The amendment protects the children, Lucinda."
"I know that."
"It puts their inheritance beyond his reach."
"I know that too." Her voice was very quiet.
"I told him that.
I told him it was Dad's decision and it was the right one and we had to accept it."
"And?"
She looked at the garden.
"He said if I wasn't with him on this, he would make sure I lost everything.
The house.
The income.
The children." She stopped.
"He has a solicitor who says there are grounds to contest the amendment.
That Dad wasn't of sound mind when he signed it.
Grant said if I didn't cooperate, he would file the contest and drag it through the courts for years, and by the time it was settled there would be nothing left for anyone."
Silvio looked at his sister.
She was not the person he had grown up with.
Or she was, but something had been pressing down on her for so long that the shape of her had changed.
"What does cooperate mean?" he said.
"What did he ask you to do?"
Lucinda's hands were in her lap.
She looked at them.
"He said the children just needed to not be here on the thirtieth.
That it didn't have to be permanent.
That we could take them somewhere, tell everyone they were visiting relatives, and when the date passed the amendment would be void and everything would go back to normal." She stopped.
"He said no one would get hurt.
He said it was just paperwork."
"He left them in a car for four hours in July."
"I know."
"Mia stopped asking for you in February."
Lucinda's jaw tightened.
Her eyes were bright.
"I know," she said again.
"And you still—"
"I was scared." The words came out hard and fast.
"I was scared of him, Silvio.
I am scared of him.
You don't live with him.
You don't know what he does when no one is watching." She stopped.
Her hands were shaking.
"I made a terrible mistake.
I know I made a terrible mistake.
But I didn't know it would go this far.
I thought — I told myself he wouldn't actually—"
"But he would," Silvio said.
"He already has."
She pressed her fingers against her mouth.
"I need you to tell me everything," Silvio said.
"Everything you know.
Every conversation.
Every plan.
Every name he mentioned." He leaned forward.
"Because the thirtieth is in ten days and I am not going to let him get anywhere near those children.
But I need to know what I'm dealing with."
Lucinda looked at him across the table.
May you like
For a long moment she didn't move.
Then she reached out and pulled the document toward her, and she started to talk.
