JAMES

"I can't believe you like Lacy more than us," I sigh, though I am secretly pleased that my stone cold grandfather is treating my CeCe as she should be treated.

Blanche glances at me with a displeased expression as we enter his study. "She's better than the lot of you," He replies in a clipped tone.

My brothers and I are unfazed by our mother's father's disinterest in us. All of us had stopped trying to earn his approval long ago—he was more a man than anything else to us now.

He'd never liked us, mainly because he never liked the fact that his daughter married our father. To him, we were reminders of his youngest daughter's mistakes.

If I was him, I wouldn't be too pleased, either. Especially considering how quickly our father replaced our mother for another woman.

A woman who'd been waiting for an opportunity to strike. A woman who'd quickly became Harry Rhodes' lifeline and downfall.

The only good thing that came from Imogen is Lacy. The golden girl of the Rhodes family. An angel sent down to us from Heaven itself.

I sit down at a leather chair in the study, the rest of my brothers taking up seats throughout the room. In the distance, I can hear the strums of a harp.

"What did you want to talk to us about, Blanche?" Liam asks, with a calm tone and a neutral expression—one of the only mediators among the Rhodes men.

Blanche sits down at his desk, leaning back. "I want to know about the people who raised Lacy up until now. The Clarks, weren't they?"

Adam speaks up first. "They lived in Mayfair. Imogen was already married to Sean Clark when she married Harry. They already had a daughter, Stella Clark."

When Blanche doesn't respond, Adam continues. "Imogen took Lacy with her after Harry find out about her other family. Lacy then lived with them—until their crash."

"Unfortunate accident," I say, but I smile.

My dearest grandfather narrows his eyes on me. He knows all too well that trusting the Rhodes isn't the best way to go about life.

Since when are people with power honest?

Ha! What a thought.

"They had ties with the Russians, no?" Blanche asks, directing his attention towards Adam yet again. Adam, the firstborn. The heir.

I've never liked living in the shadows. I always felt like I was born to be in the light. Yet, when Lacy came along, suddenly letting her be the sun wasn't so bad anymore.

Her sunshine as able to light my heart.

All of our hearts.

Even the infamous Seymour Blanche.

The first time Lacy met our grandfather, she was only a little toddler dressed in a white dress and a pink bow.

Yet, she somehow casted a magic spell on him, and he became obsessed with her. Lacy has that effect on people—whether or not she knows it.

She makes people think that she's the water, and they're dying of thirst. She's the sun there to propel the dark winter away.

"Yes. He ran a gang for the Russian Mafia. We only found out recently," Adam grinds out, his fists clenching. "Lacy was pretty much being held in a lion's cage—waiting bait."

Blanche slams his hand down on his desk. "And why did you imbeciles not get her sooner? Are you too thick-headed? You have common sense, no?"

Liam sighs. "We kept track of her all those years, of course. Never once did she seem unhappy... we only wanted her to have the best life possible."

Blanche runs a hand over his face. "Dear Lord... why did you give me such idiotic grandsons?" He then lets out a few lovely French curses.

I glance over at Thomas, who's leaning against the bookshelves, an unamused expression on his face as he watches the seen before us.

Standing, I smile at our grandfather. "No need to get so upset, Blanche. The Clarks have truly paid for what happened to Lacy."

LACY

The room smells old. That doesn't mean it's dusty, it simply means this room has the smell that it's seen the stories of generations.

Summer sun shines through the windows, the white lace curtains draping on either side, parallel. Violins, a grand piano, and the golden-shining harp are the center pieces.

I sit on the bench of the harp, Theodora either standing near me or sitting by the sofa, never touching the tea and pastries on the table.

Theodora teaching me the harp has turned into her chatting on and on about the family, promptly catching me up on what I had missed.

"Well, you see, your brothers are very respectable people. They're very wealthy, doing their father proud. Keeping the family business alive." She smiles wonderfully.

She moves my fingers to the correct positions on the harp, and moves it slightly so it's rested against my shoulder. "Angels play the harp, you know," Mémé smiles.

I nod, smile. "Oh, yes. Have you seen The Nutcracker? The 1993 version? It's my favorite. The angels who dance before the Sugar Plum Fairy are so heavenly."

Theodora smiles widely. "You're so marvelous, Lacy."

The words wash through me—they're like the words of a proud mother. Words I never heard from my own mother.

Instead, I got:

"Smile more, Lacy."

"Stand taller, Lacy."

"Don't cry. He didn't hit you that hard, Lacy."

My mother never loved me as much as she loved Stella and Jackson. They were her golden children. They were the children of the man she loved.

I was just there. The child she bore due to a marriage she wasn't interested in. A man I didn't even remember, a man replaced by one who never wanted me.

The perfect porcelain doll, sitting on the shelf of my pink bedroom. Obedient, silent, still. Dependent and vulnerable.

It might not be different here. I might end up being the same doll I was then. But at least I'm not beaten here. At least I can rest easy knowing that.

"There, strum it like that. Ah, that's a beautiful sound, my love. You're a natural at playing the harp, Lacy! I never knew you could be so musically talented."

I smile. "Thank you, Mémé."

She laughs at that. "And polite, too. I wonder where you got that. Imogen nor Harry were all that keen on displaying proper etiquette." She grimaces.

I set the harp back up, going to sit next to Theodora on the sofa. "Please, would you tell me about them? My parents, I mean."

The father in my mind was nonexistent. My mother was a hollow shell of a woman. She was immune to the brutality of her life.

A husked corn. An empty clam. A glass doll.

Theodora lets out a shaky breath. "Your father, Harry was... an enigma. He was almost larger than life, with his thoughts, his ideas. No wonder my darling girl fell for him."

I nod.

Why do I not remember him? I remember my brothers, my mother, from my life before the Clarks. Yet, when I try to remember my father...

I only see a black hole instead.

It's like he's been erased from me, leaving me bare to the harsh winds of the past. A puzzle piece that was dropped into a river, carried into the ocean...

...and sinking to the bottom. Just to be lost in time.

"Now, Imogen. She pretended to be a silly girl. She acted as if she knew nothing, that she was a little damsel in distress. Of course, I certainly don't believe it."

"You don't?" I tilt my head slightly.

Theodora smiles at me. "Any woman who has managed to see the insides of the Rhodes family could never be just a stupid girl."

~~~

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