Page 98 of Best Kept Secret

Chapter 38

Mira

Iwas in the kitchen, Ravi Shankar playing in the background as I cooked.

When I worked in Atlanta in various diners, I cooked very American and Southern food. At Savannah Lace, I was given the freedom to do fusion, and it was wonderful.

Rachel walked into the kitchen, grimacing. "I'm ready to kick her out, but I wanted to check first."

I cocked an eyebrow.

"Your mother is here. She's alone."

I groaned. "They live in Atlanta, and I feel like I can't get the hell away from them in Savannah." I wiped my hand on my apron. "Is there a meeting room we can use?"

Rachel nodded. "I can put her in the Magnolia conference room. Why don't you take a minute and finish whatever you were doing? It might be good for her to wait a bit."

I grinned, and I couldn't believe I was findinganyhumor in seeing my mother. But in the past few months, I'd grown. I'd become emotionally stronger. As much as I missed Beau and Pari, it was good for me to live on my own, something I'd never done. I moved from my parents' home to Asha's, and then I had Pari to take care of. Living alone was teaching me survival skills that I needed, and going to therapy had been pivotal in me having the confidence right now to believe I could handle seeing my mother.

I left my apron in the kitchen and went to the conference room. When I opened the door, I found my mother standing, looking out the tall windows.

She turned when she heard me walk in. Her face was a perfect mask of calm, the same serene expression she always wore when she was about to manipulate someone when she was about to push the knife in just a little deeper. My heart beat a little faster at the sight of her—but I knew it wasn't fear. Anxiety, yes, but I wasn't afraid of her. I'd never be again.

"Mira," she said softly. "We have an urgent issue."

I leaned against the wall, keeping as much physical distance as I could from the woman who had birthed me. "Your urgent issues don't concern me."

She sighed, the kind that was meant to make me feel guilty, like I was the unreasonable one. "I wouldn't be here unless it was important."

I crossed my arms. "Ireallydon't care what you think is important. I want you to get the fuck out of here."

"Language, Mira," she admonished.

I barked a laugh. "You've got to be kidding me. You come here and want to talk to me, and your problem is that I used the F word?"

"There is no need to be disrespectful." She smoothed her Chanel dress. Still dressed to the nines, my mother was. Always made up to show the world that everything in the Sen household wasperfect.What fucking bullshit!Pardon my fuckin' French.

"You deserve no respect from me. Say whatever you want to say, and then get the…fuck…out."

"Mira,please," she pressed, her voice suddenly shaky, false vulnerability creeping in. "It's about your father."

I didn't flinch. I didn't blink. "And you think I give a…shit?" So, it was petty to swear and enunciate the words, but I'd earned this.

She took a breath, wringing her hands together like she was preparing to deliver some world-shattering news. "He's been arrested."

For a moment, I couldn't process her words. They hung in the air between us like they didn't belong. Like they didn't make sense. But the way she said it, the way her voice trembled, I knew what had happened. I knew this was Beau's doing.

"Finally."

My mother's eyes darted to the floor, and I could see the shame in the way she held herself, in the way she couldn't quite meet my gaze. "They…they say they found things on his computer. Improper images. Of children. But I know they're framing him."

My stomach turned, bile rising in the back of my throat, and for a moment, I thought I might be sick.

"I doubt that he needed to be framed," I said bluntly.

"And now," Seema continued, ignoring my comment, "there areotheraccusations. Our lawyer thinks that if you could speak to the DA, it would help."

There wereothers?

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