Page 45 of Reign of Psychos

“Where are the kids?” It was rare to see my sister without her bairns.

“With Jon and the nanny.” The tightness in her jaw suggested all was not well, but I knew better than to pry. Growing up, Isla and I had been exceptionally close. Living with our cunt of a father had forced us to rely on each other when things got really bad. But since she married Jon, we’d drifted apart. “Why are you in London?”

“I’m showing Thea the sights,” I replied with an easy smile that fooled Mom but not my sister. She knew me better than anyone.

“Your father will be so disappointed he missed you,” Mom said. “He’s been in such a foul mood lately. I do worry about him.”

I felt Thea tense up beside me. “Maybe he shouldn’t have tried pimping out his son,” she snapped before I had time to throw her a warning look.

Mom’s jaw dropped in shock. “I’m sorry, what?”

I sank into my chair as she stared at me in horror.

“Oh, didn’t you know? Your husband likes to use Landon to secure favors or blackmail business rivals.”

Isla and I shared a look. We’d never told Mom what dad had done. At first, he’d said she wouldn’t believe us, but eventually we stayed silent because it was the best way to protect her.

“Lan, is this true?” She spun to face me, her eyes shiny with tears. I opened my mouth to deny it, but Isla got there first.

“It’s true. He forced me to do stuff too, before Jon married me.”

Conversation ebbed and flowed around us while a piano played in the background. Something that felt a lot like relief settled over me. A heavy burden lifted from my shoulders. Mom might not believe us, but at least the truth was out there.

Thea shifted closer, still holding my hand tight enough to cause damage. “She needs to know, baby,” she whispered in my ear.

As much as I wanted to yell at her for forcing us to talk about it, she was right. Isla and I had spent years hiding the truth from Mom. Shit always rises to the surface, eventually.

“You should have told me!” Mom’s voice cracked, like her world had just imploded.

Isla sighed before reaching out and squeezing her hand. “He threatened us. Said you wouldn’t believe anything we said.”

Mom raised her hand and signaled to the server, who hurried over with a bright smile.

“Can we have a bottle of your best scotch and four glasses, please?”

To her credit, the server didn’t bat an eye. She disappeared and returned five minutes later with our order. Mom splashed scotch into three glasses before I covered the fourth with my hand and shook my head.

“None for Thea. She doesn’t drink.” Not quite a lie, but I wasn’t ready to share the news of Thea’s pregnancy. Two shocks in one day might finish my mother off.

“I’m sorry,” Thea said, looking my mother in the eye.

Mom’s gaze softened. “It’s not your fault, darling. If anything, I should be the one thanking you for lifting the scales from my eyes. I knew Stuart was not a good man, but I never thought he’d hurt our children.”

“I only married Jon to get away from him,” Isla sobbed. “And now he’s fucking our nanny!”

Dear lord. Could this get any worse? Thea stayed silent, but I could feel her vibrating with anger at Isla’s admission.

“I never liked Jon,” I admitted. He had a limp handshake and despite being only 30, a prominent bald patch.

Mom pulled out her phone and tapped away furiously at the screen before lifting it to her ear. “This is Isobel Rothmore… Yes, as in the whiskey… My daughter and I need to speak with Miriam. Yes, this afternoon… no, I can’t wait that long…in an hour? Perfect.” She ended her call and turned to speak to Isla in a hushed voice while Thea lifted a small cucumber sandwich and examined it with great suspicion.

“Is this even worth eating?” My wife-to-be took a dainty bite and chewed thoughtfully. “Not bad, but I prefer the cakes.”

“Who’s Miriam?” Mom handed Isla some napkins to mop up her tears, followed by a fresh glass of scotch. Then she looked up and offered me a grim smile that promised bloodshed and vengeance.

“Miriam de Souza, London’s most sought-after divorce lawyer. She handled Prince Harold’s divorce last year, when he finally cut ties with thatdreadfulAmerican woman.” She sniffed. “I will not let my daughter stay married to that man for a minute longer.”

“If you need evidence, Milo can help comb through his emails and socials.”

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