Chapter 9
324 Words
The bench was cold. Reilly sat on the edge like she might be told to leave.
The madame pulled her coat tighter. "Tell me about her. Your mother."
Reilly looked down at the locket. "Her name was Claire. She laughed at stupid things. Burnt toast. Bad movies. She used to say I was worth more than any contract."
She told her about Sunday pancakes. About learning to swim. About waving from the departure hall before the plane took off. An accident they called it.
The madame listened. Her eyes stayed on Reilly's locket.
On the steps, Liam stood with his arms crossed. He heard everything. Every word.
His jaw tightened. _Manipulation_, he thought. She knows Mother's dying. She knows she wants to see me married, settled. So she sits there with the locket and the story about the dead mom.
He took one step down. Then stopped.
Reilly glanced up. For a second she thought he'd say something. That he'd cut her off like he did in the kitchen.
He didn't.
His eyes met hers. Cold. Assessing. Like he was filing this moment away as proof. She was trying to work his mother. Trying to turn six months into leverage.
But he didn't make a scene. He didn't yell.
He just turned and went back inside. Door shut behind him. Quiet. Final.
Vanessa frowned after him. "That's it? You're not going to-"
"She can talk," Liam said from the doorway without turning around. "Talk all she wants." Then the door clicked shut.
The room stayed quiet.
The madame squeezed Reilly's hand. "He's listening, child," she whispered. "Even when he walks away. Especially then."
Reilly exhaled. Her hands were shaking under her sleeves. Not because he yelled. Because he didn't.
- Writer
