Page 44 of The Villains We Make

Silas and I stand up, taking our cue.

“Ah, fuck off,” my grandfather tells him, and I laugh. He turns to me, smiles and nods. “You sound just like her when you laugh. Horatio ever tell you that?”

“He did, actually. Many times.”

“Well, it’s true.” He turns to the female nurse. “Margaret, get that box I brought. It’s in the bedroom. Bring it to me.”

“Just a minute,” she says.

He looks up at Silas. “Your daddy’s a piece of work.”

“I don’t like to refer to him as my daddy.”

“Good. As crooked as they come and thinks he’s got everyone fooled.”

Silas smiles. “You’re right about that, Mr. Carlisle-Bent.”

Margaret returns with the box which my grandfather takes. It’s a very old, faded purple wind-up jewelry box that he fumbles to open. When he does, a small, bent ballerina takes a quarter turn to choppy, broken music before stopping. He watches the little doll inside then roots around underneath to take out a gold locket on a chain. He puts the box on his lap and opens the locket. He smiles at it fondly, and the sight of him looking at it like he is, is bittersweet. I feel the loss of this man who is sitting right here, who I know is not going to be here for very long.

“Here. It was your mother’s. Her mother gave it to her. It’s the two of them when she was just a baby. Claire left it behind when… well, it’s yours now.”

When I reach to take it from him, my fingers brush his and he captures them, holding on to them for a minute, moist eyes locked on mine. This moment isn’t bittersweet. It’s just heartbreaking.

He keeps hold of me and turns to Silas. “Keep her away from the stones, you hear me?”

“Yes, sir. I’ll take good care of her. Always have. Always will.”

He nods and hands me the box. “And you. You make sure you come back to see me.”

“I will. I promise. And you can trust that promise.”

He smiles.

“Come on, Mr. Carlisle-Bent. Let’s get you to bed,” Margaret says.

I watch him being led away and he suddenly looks smaller and frailer, and I feel so incredibly sad.

“You okay?” Silas asks me.

I nod, and hand off the box to open the locket. Inside are two tiny black and white photos. On one side is a woman I look a lot like and on the other is a tiny bundle of a baby. My grandmother and my mother.

“Come on. Let’s go,” Silas says.

I tuck it into my pocket and let him lead me onto the elevator and down to the lobby. We pass the entrance of the bar as we go, and I glance in to find Chandler sitting there smoking that fake cigarette and drinking a whiskey. He raises the glass to me but doesn’t smile. In fact, his face is the opposite of a smile. A chill runs down my spine.

Silas must feel it because he stops, too, and when he takes a step toward the bar, I pull him back.

“Don’t,” I say, remembering what my father told me, that Chandler Carlisle-Bent is more dangerous for me than the Foxes ever were. Understanding why he’d say that.

16

SILAS

You’re no imposter. Fox confirmed that, but I’m guessing he’s regretting that now that you married the wrong son.

“What are you thinking about?” Ophelia asks as we drive back to Nigella’s house.

I shake my head. “Just processing. He’s not what I expected.”

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