Page 133 of The Scarab's Game

Scarlett’s gaze shifted to Jenn, my sister’s calm exterior masking the turmoil beneath. “Fenix has gotten the better of usseveral times this year. Nothing we couldn’t recover from, but I suspect she’s done turning the other cheek.”

I was surprised it had taken this long. “And Dad…?”

How many questions could that lead to? Was our mother aware he’d been framed? Did she fight it? Had she covered it up? Had the Russians gone after her?

Hell, had the Canadian and British governments gone after her?

“I don’t know if she knew or not.” Scarlett’s expression tightened. “Until we talk to her, I’ve asked Brie to—respectfully—not dig any further.”

So where was our mother?

Chapter 49

Will

I climbedthe narrow staircase up to Mum’s maisonette apartment in Oxshott, England, the events in Monaco on an endless loop. The familiar creak of the steps under my feet was a stark contrast to the luxurious surroundings I’d left behind only hours earlier. As I reached the landing, I fumbled with my keys, exhaustion settling over me.

“I’m home,” I called out as I pushed open the door.

“We’re in here, George!” Mum’s voice came from the kitchen.

I froze, my hand still on the doorknob. George. My father. Dead for over a year now. I closed my eyes, willing away the sudden tightness in my chest.

Not one of her better days, apparently.

The conversation with Emmett and Jenn about assisted living replayed in my mind, followed quickly by my sister’s daily reminders while I was away.

‘She’s not doing well, Will,’Katie had said after day one. After three, it became,‘How long are the waitlists?’

“And you’ll never guess who’s here!” Mum’s voice, bright and eager, carried a clarity that deepened the ache in my chest—it was only a fleeting echo of the woman she used to be.

Leaving my suitcase by the door, I went to the kitchen. As I rounded the corner, I stopped short.

Evelyn Reynolds sat at our worn kitchen table, a chipped teacup held between her fingers. My mother beamed at me, her eyes bright with an excitement that came and went with the weather.

“Evie came for a visit!” Mum exclaimed.

“This is a surprise,” I said. Why was shehereinstead of at home?

“Good to see you again,” Evelyn said smoothly, deftly avoiding using my name.

“Of course,” I replied, my tone carefully neutral. My fingers itched to grab my phone and alert Emmett or Scarlett, but I resisted.

The sound of the front door opening again rescued me from having to say more.

Katie appeared in the kitchen doorway, carrying a grocery bag and a small, distinctive bag from Harrods. She pulled out a box of chocolates, handing them to Mum with a smile.

“Thanks for staying while I went out, Auntie Evie,” said Katie.

“Katie,” I said, keeping my voice steady, “I want to take Evie upstairs to show her the addition.”

Mum looked up from inspecting the chocolates, her brow furrowed in confusion. “We only have one floor, George.”

“I meant the attic space.” My chest tightened again, but I forced a smile. We’d converted the attic almost a year ago when I moved home to care for my mother. I leaned down to kiss her cheek. Turning to Evelyn, I gestured toward the back of the kitchen. “The stairs are this way.”

Evelyn squeezed Mum’s hand before standing to join me.

The stairs groaned as we ascended to my workshop. Upstairs, Evelyn’s attention roamed over the cluttered workbenches, theshelves lined with gadgets and prototypes. Her gaze lingered on a half-finished device near my main workstation, and a flicker of pride passed over me despite the circumstances.

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