Sweet Venom by Rina Kent - 36

36

I ’m nervous.

Anxious, even.

It’s like I’m back in that tiny place I used to share with my mother, waking up in the morning with dread about what type of mood swings she’d have that day.

Times when I made myself smaller, quieter, and tried to breathe as little as possible just so she wouldn’t notice me and take out her aggression and grievances on me.

Though she’s no longer here, the bracelet she left has put me in this predicament. A bracelet that belongs to a family I’m now sitting amongst.

A different kind of family.

Unlike my mother and me, they have all the money, prestige, and shadowy power, but they still can’t mourn Preston properly.

Maybe I’m biased, but I hold a grudge against them, except for the little girl who’s not present today.

We’re at a grand office with a leather sitting area surrounded by large bookshelves full of leather-bound books. Across from us, there’s a mahogany desk against which Lawrence and his younger brother, Atlas, are leaning, both crossing their feet at the ankles. Atlas seems more preoccupied with his phone while Lawrence’s arms are folded, and a frown is etched deep between his brows.

Winston and Marguerite Armstrong, respectively the patriarch and matriarch of the family, are occupying the large sofa.

The grandfather has a death grip on his cane, his expression solemn and unreadable. His black clothes scream wealth and stature, but his complexion is sickly pale, his eyes an eerie mix of blue and green.

His wife is wearing a dark-blue tailored dress and a neat bun, her blonde strands shining in the light. Elegant pearls decorate her neck and ears as she stares down her nose at the room, her thin red lips set in a line.

Beside her sits Preston’s stepmom, Lilith, wearing a floral dress as if this is some form of celebration. In fact, her face looks radiant, her smile genuinely glowing, as if she’s reveling in Preston’s death. Her posture is as upright as her mother-in-law’s, legs tucked to the side, revealing diamond-studded shoes.

Jude, Kane, and I are on the other sofa. Even though I wore a beautiful, knitted dress that Dahlia bought me, I feel severely underdressed in the company of elegant gowns and tailored suits.

A hand strokes my shoulder, then rests on my thigh. A rush of warmth seeps into me, and I stare at Jude, who gives me a smile.

It’s small and definitely out of character for someone like him, but it’s comforting. Especially knowing that he goes out of his way to make me feel better.

This morning, after I woke up in a blissful achy haze, the happiness only lasted a while before the doomsday-like feeling rushed back in .

Jude had to talk me out of not coming here today.

“You have me, and if shit hits the fan, there’s also Kane. We can fight our way out of there… I think.”

It made me laugh as he intended, which is why I’m here.

“I still don’t understand why Preston would leave a personal will,” Lilith says, studying her French-manicured nails. “Everything he owned would revert back to the family anyway.”

“You’d be surprised what that menace has to say.” Atlas lifts his head, finally acknowledging the scene. He’s dashingly handsome with a square jawline and bright eyes, but it’s a sinister beauty—the type you’d run away from if you met him in an alley.

Just like Julian’s.

“Can we get this over with so the strangers can leave my house?” Lilith offers a fake smile. “I’m not talking about you, Kane and Jude, darlings.”

“You’re certainly not talking about Violet either.” Jude takes my hand in his, placing it on his lap. “Because you’re more of a stranger to Preston than she ever was.”

She opens her mouth to say something, but Lawrence pulls out a black envelope and flips it open. “Everyone present was specifically mentioned in Preston’s personal will that I confiscated from the family attorney as I have no time for official nonsense. Now, then, I’ll start reading.”

Jude’s hand tightens around mine and I stroke it, gulping.

“If you’re reading this, then I’m dead. What a fucking shame. This better happen when I’m eighty or something or I’ll cut a bitch. And no, lawyer, you can’t take that out.” Lawrence pauses and sighs.

Kane, Jude, and I smile because that sounds exactly like something Preston would write .

“First things first,” Lawrence continues. “I want to announce from the podium of my ashes that Satan’s lover, also known as Lilith Armstrong, with Satan being my dad—if you know, you know—is a terrible mother and stepmother and should totally be burned at the stake. But that’s my two cents. If I turn into a ghost, you better count your days.”

Lilith’s cheeks turn red, her hands balled into fists.

Jude smiles and whispers, “He always calls her Satan’s lover, never by her name.”

Oh.

“Moving on.” Another sigh from Lawrence. “Jude and Kane are my bros and the only family I have. Sorry, not sorry if the Armstrong clan is listening; I just didn’t say that before because I didn’t want to be cut out of the will. Well, now, I’m leaving everything in my name to them. Live and drink, and most importantly, slash the fuck out of shit for me. Hey, Jude. Kill one or two people on my death anniversary so I can have some toys in hell, would you?”

Jude’s smile is sad, and I hold on to him tighter.

“There’s a lot of Preston’s shenanigans that are not meant for polite company,” Lawrence says with yet another sigh.

“No, come on.” Atlas tries to peek. “What did that little shit say about me? More importantly, what did he say about you ? It must be scathing. I want to hear.”

“That’s not important.” Lawrence cuts him off with a glare, flipping to the last page. “What is important, however, is this.”

He stands straight, throws a fleeting glance at his mother, and then reads on, “Oh, I have an interesting anecdote. A while ago, I met the girl Jude’s been obsessing over, but he can’t just admit he likes her, so his best option was to stalk her. Not that I’m judging my bro. Anyway, her name is Violet Winters, and ever since I saw her at the hospital, I felt something strange about her. Time went by, and she abandoned her Sleeping Beauty era, and even came to study at GU! And color me surprised when that strange feeling grew instead of diminishing. She’s sitting there, right? By the way, hi, Violet. If Jude doesn’t treat you right, I’ll haunt him. Anyway, everyone. Look at her freaking eyes! You can’t tell me they don’t seem familiar.”

Everyone in the room directs their attention to me, and I think I see disdain in Marguerite’s and Lilith’s gazes, while Atlas narrows his eyes on me and Winston stares, unblinking.

“She’s one of us, isn’t she?” Lawrence reads on. “She has part of Grandpa’s heterochromia that his descendants share. Uncle Atlas and I have the green. Dad, Miley, and Violet…you guessed it—they have the blue. Though Dad has some green. Anyway, I have no evidence, but I’m sure she might have some relation to us. Now, who of you could have possibly spawned her? Is she my sister, my cousin, or my aunt⁠—”

“This is complete and utter nonsense.” Marguerite stands up, making Lawrence halt.

“Sit down, Mother,” Atlas says with no change of expression. “Lawrence is not done.”

“I will not sit here and listen to some unfounded speculations about a rat from the streets.”

Jude’s about to stand up, but I hold on to his hand and say in a clear voice, “I’m not a rat from the streets. I’d appreciate it if you don’t call me names just because you can.”

Jude caresses my shoulder, giving me a soft look as if he’s proud of me. In reality, I’m not sure if I’d have this courage if he weren’t right by my side.

A cane bangs against the carpet. Winston doesn’t have to say anything. Just the crack of his cane, and his wife sits down, touching her pearls, then says, “This is entirely absurd.”

Lawrence tilts his head to the side. “How so, Mother?”

“How so? You can’t just believe your deranged son’s rhetoric. That boy was mentally unwell, and we all knew it. Why are you even considering his ramblings?”

“Because I did a DNA test.” Lawrence drags a black leather folder from the top of the desk and places it on the coffee table in front of us. “First, Violet and me. As you can see, we share approximately twenty-five percent of our DNA, meaning we share a close familial relationship. Half-sibling, to be more specific. Then I performed another DNA test that shows Violet shares fifty percent of her DNA with Father, and there’s a ninety-nine point nine percent chance of him being her biological father.”

The first to reach for the tests are Lilith and Jude. Marguerite looks away, her face scrunched in a dark frown. Winston’s face pales further, but he doesn’t move, doesn’t even look at me. Kane and Atlas lean down to study the tests, but I’m just staring dumbfounded at Lawrence.

“How…?”

“You have to forgive me, Violet. I might have collected your DNA without your consent, but I needed to confirm a few things first. Such as…” Lawrence pulls out the bracelet. The one that was bloody is now shiny new. “You gave this to Savannah Winters in case she needed it to reach you, didn’t you, Father?”

Winston looks at me for the first time, and I can’t unsee it. My eyes are in his frail ones. The color blue that’s bordering on teal is so unique and strikingly the same. “Where is she? Savannah?”

“She died about twelve years ago.” I choke on my words. “Drug overdose.”

He nods once, and I think I see a sliver of pain pass through him.

I want to ask him many things, but he speaks again, looking out into the distance. “She was a star ballerina. A beautiful swan that I trapped. I didn’t know she was pregnant, though.”

“Because Mother made sure of it,” Lawrence says, looking at Marguerite. “According to the former head of staff you sent to the Caribbean with enough fortune to keep her mouth shut, Savannah came here to ask for money for her and the baby in her belly. You told her if she didn’t abort it, you’d kill them both. You gave her some pocket change to disappear, but apparently, Savannah just put on the show of having an abortion and bribed the doctor to let her keep the baby. Then she moved a couple of states down and started from scratch in the worst circumstances imaginable. Maybe she thought there would be a day where she’d show up in front of my father again and use Violet for money. Maybe she died before she could ever do that.”

My heart thumps so loudly, I can barely hear anything beyond my own heartbeat.

All this time, I thought I was the daughter of one of my mother’s clients, but she was a ballerina? I thought she was just a socialite before she fell from grace.

No wonder she used to hate any Nutcracker holiday season shows, but sometimes, when she was drunk, she’d be whirling and dancing and then crying.

Turns out, I really did kill her career.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Lawrence.” Marguerite huffs. “You can’t accuse me without proof. ”

“Oh, I have proof. Aside from the former head of staff’s testimony, I have records of when you sold some of your properties via an agent around the time you had to pay the former head of staff and Savannah from your own money. I also have records of Swiss bank transactions to one of our former guards that you’ve been paying to assassinate Violet for a few months now—including the time when my son got shot.”

Atlas whistles. “Wow. You’ve been quite busy, Mother.”

“All this time…” Jude stands up. “It’s been you?”

Marguerite cowers in her seat. “I was just protecting my family. That leech, Savannah, was trouble. I could see all her gold-digging ploys in her beady eyes. I should’ve killed her when she first showed up at my door, that greedy whore! I thought we were done with her nonsense, but then I spotted this little gremlin on Jude’s bike in front of the house up the hill. I had my suspicions she was that bitch’s daughter since she looks so much like her and confirmed it with a little background check, so of course I had to eliminate her. I couldn’t let her continue her mother’s cursed legacy and become a parasite to my family!”

“I never wanted to be part of your family!” I scream back. “I don’t care about any of your wealth or a father I’ve never met. I lived my entire life believing I was fatherless, and this changes nothing.”

“You say that now, but then you’ll have your greedy hands all over my family.”

“Don’t be a hypocrite, Mother,” Lawrence says. “If you cared about family so much, you wouldn’t have killed your own grandson just to get rid of Violet.”

“He got in the way like an idiot.”

“You killed my son!” Lawrence yells, losing his cool for the first time. “You put a bullet in my. Fucking. Son, Mother! So don’t you dare sit there and try to play the role of a victim.”

Winston stands up, banging his cane on the floor. The whole room falls silent as Marguerite grabs onto his hand. “Honey, you know I did this for us, for our family.”

“There’s no us or family when you attempted to kill my daughter and murdered my grandson. Pack your things and leave by tomorrow morning.” His expression is cool and unperturbed as he pulls his hand free. “Lawrence, Atlas. Strip this woman of every last dime to her name.”

Lawrence nods.

Atlas salutes. “I’ll invest your money well, Mother.”

“Winston!” she cries, her voice cracking. “You can’t do this to me.”

He stops by the door and glances at me. “I’m sorry, child.”

And then he exits the room.

And I’m shaking in Jude’s arms.

I found my family, but family isn’t something you can choose.

Or just belong to.

I ruined my mother’s life, and she certainly ruined mine.