“And you,” Livia hissed, pointing at my mother. “If this is not finished in five minutes, you will sleep in the servant quarters without dinner.”
I felt bile rise in my throat. Every accomplishment, every fortune, every lavish possession seemed meaningless. I had let someone I loved turn into a tyrant inside my home. I had left my mother, my protector and guide, at her mercy.
“LIVIA!”
My voice reverberated through the house. She froze mid-motion, the shock on her face unmistakable.
“Ronan?” she stammered, smoothing her silk blouse. “This isn’t what it looks like. Your mother insisted—”
I did not let her continue. I rushed to my mother, kneeling beside her and carefully untying my daughters. Her hands were ice-cold, frail and trembling.
“Mama,” I whispered, taking her face gently in my hands. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
She could only weep quietly, the way mothers do when they wish to shield their children from suffering.
Juniper pulled a small flash drive from her pocket, her hands shaking. “Ronan, forgive me for showing you this like this. I cannot remain silent anymore.”
