Chapter 37: The Gate of Liars
1299 Words
Bonny’s POV
Of course they were.
Because trauma in my life had impeccable timing.
No one in the room spoke for several seconds.
Then everyone did at once.
“Absolutely not,” Adrian said.
“Call security,” Vivienne snapped.
“Let me answer the gate camera first,” Vanessa said, already moving.
Naledi gripped the arm of her chair so hard her knuckles whitened.
My mother.
My actual mother.
In the same house where the people who stole me now stood outside the gate.
If there was a playwright scripting my life, they were deranged.
Mara rose slowly.
“I would like five minutes alone with them.”
“No,” three voices said at once.
She looked offended.
“Cowards.”
I stood.
“No one touches the gate.”
Every head turned to me.
Useful.
“I’m done having scenes arranged around me.”
Adrian stepped closer immediately.
“You are not speaking to them tonight.”
“I am.”
“You are emotionally compromised.”
“I am emotionally furious.”
“Exactly.”
I pointed at him.
“Supportive tone. Bad content.”
Vivienne almost smiled despite the situation.
“Unfortunately, he’s right.”
“Stop siding with him when it’s inconvenient.”
“I side with competence.”
Rude woman.
Accurate woman.
Still rude.
---
Vanessa projected the gate camera feed onto the television because apparently our family crises now came with presentation tools.
There they were.
My adoptive parents.
Patrick and Lydia.
Older.
Thinner.
Still carrying themselves with the entitlement of people who believed suffering made them owed.
Patrick paced dramatically in front of the gate.
Lydia dabbed at dry eyes for effect.
Some talents never fade.
I stared at the screen with surprising calm.
The rage had cooled.
What remained was clarity.
“They know,” I said.
“How?” Adrian asked.
“The story broke somewhere. Investigators moved. Someone talked. Or they smelled money.”
Naledi flinched visibly at the sight of them.
I crossed to her instantly.
“You don’t have to stay.”
Her eyes filled.
“No.”
Her voice strengthened.
“I have been absent from too much already.”
I took her hand.
Then faced the room.
“We do this my way.”
Adrian folded his arms.
“I dislike that sentence.”
“Noted.”
---
Ten minutes later we were assembled in the front sitting room like a tribunal.
No one had invited them inside yet.
That was strategic.
Let them wait.
Let them sweat.
Let them imagine.
Adrian stood near the fireplace looking like a billionaire execution notice.
Vivienne sat upright with terrifying elegance.
Mara sharpened fruit knives in the kitchen loud enough for atmosphere.
Vanessa handled cameras and recording devices with suspicious expertise.
Naledi sat beside me.
Hands shaking.
Chin high.
I squeezed her fingers once.
Then nodded to Vanessa.
“Open the gate.”
---
They entered cautiously.
Interesting.
Predators dislike unknown territory.
Lydia saw me first.
“Bonny!”
I did not move.
She attempted tears immediately.
Strong opener.
Patrick spotted Adrian and adjusted posture.
Also predictable.
Then both of them noticed Naledi.
Everything stopped.
Lydia’s face drained.
Patrick actually stepped back.
Good.
Very good.
I remained seated.
“Sit.”
They obeyed before realizing they had.
Useful.
Patrick cleared his throat.
“We came because there has been a misunderstanding.”
“Excellent first lie,” Vivienne murmured.
He ignored her.
Lydia clasped her hands dramatically.
“Bonny, sweetheart, we raised you with love—”
“No.”
Just one word.
Sharp enough to cut the room.
She froze.
“No revisions tonight,” I said. “Only facts.”
Patrick tried another route.
“We sacrificed everything for you.”
Mara shouted from the kitchen, “Mostly her salary!”
I almost laughed.
Patrick glared toward the doorway.
Adrian took one step forward.
Patrick looked away instantly.
Correct choice.
---
I leaned forward.
“Did you legally adopt me?”
Silence.
Lydia cried harder.
Interesting substitute for answers.
“Did you legally adopt me?” I repeated.
Patrick wiped his forehead.
“The paperwork was handled—”
“Yes or no.”
“No.”
The word landed like stone.
Naledi inhaled sharply beside me.
My spine straightened.
“Did my mother come back for me?”
Neither answered.
“Did. She. Come. Back.”
Lydia sobbed.
“Yes.”
Naledi made a broken sound.
I held her hand tighter.
Patrick spoke quickly now, panicked by truth gaining speed.
“We were told she couldn’t provide stability!”
“By whom?” Adrian asked.
Patrick swallowed.
“A woman.”
“Name.”
“I never knew.”
Lie.
Everyone in the room knew it.
Vivienne spoke without raising her voice.
“You have one opportunity to become useful.”
He looked at her and visibly paled.
Interesting.
“She called herself Mrs. Moreau.”
The room chilled.
Adrian’s face became unreadable.
Naledi closed her eyes.
There it was.
Confirmation.
---
I stood slowly.
“Did you take money?”
Patrick looked offended.
As if theft accusations insulted a thief.
“It was assistance.”
“How much?”
“It was years ago—”
“How much?”
Lydia whispered, “Twenty thousand.”
The number hit strangely.
So little.
My life had been worth so little to them.
Then I corrected myself.
No.
Their price was low.
Mine never was.
I laughed once.
Soft.
Terrifying even to my own ears.
“You sold me for twenty thousand.”
“We raised you!” Lydia cried.
“You exploited me.”
“We fed you!”
“You invoiced me emotionally.”
Patrick slammed a hand on the table.
“We gave you a name!”
Naledi stood.
And the room changed.
She crossed the distance between them with terrifying calm.
Then slapped him so hard the sound echoed off polished walls.
No one intervened.
No one wanted to.
Patrick stared in stunned disbelief.
Naledi’s voice shook with decades.
“You stole my child.”
Lydia shrank into herself.
Good.
---
Adrian finally spoke.
“You will now answer three questions.”
No one objected.
Even me.
“When did Moreau contact you?”
Patrick swallowed blood from a split lip.
“Before the birth.”
“Why you?”
“My sister cleaned at the hospital. She heard… opportunities.”
Sickness rolled through me.
“Second question,” Adrian said. “Did you know the child was meant for my family?”
Patrick blinked.
“What?”
Real confusion.
Not acted.
Interesting.
“No,” he said. “We were told the baby was unwanted and valuable.”
Vivienne whispered, “Monster.”
Unsure whether she meant them or her mother.
Possibly both.
“Third question,” Adrian said. “Who else was involved?”
Patrick shook his head.
“That’s all I know.”
Lydia burst suddenly.
“He kept letters!”
Everyone turned.
Patrick shouted, “Shut up!”
Too late.
My pulse spiked.
“What letters?”
Lydia cried harder.
“From her! From the real mother! He hid them whenever they came.”
The room detonated.
Naledi swayed.
I shot to my feet.
“Letters?”
Patrick lunged toward Lydia.
Security—already waiting discreetly in the hall because Adrian plans like weather—restrained him instantly.
Mara entered holding a knife anyway.
Extra support.
“Where are they?” I demanded.
Patrick panted, trapped in security’s grip.
“Burned.”
Lydia screamed, “Not all!”
Silence.
Absolute silence.
She looked at me through mascara and fear.
“There’s one left.”
My entire body went cold.
“Where?”
She pointed at her husband.
“In the old toolbox under his bed.”
- Writer
