Page 71 of What Doesn't Kill Us

“I’ve only learned recently who I am. I was always called Toni, and all my documents showed Antoinette Moreau. I was raised in a group home setting, where survival of the fittest lead most days. They taught us everything we need to know about living a lie. That’s how I ended up getting assigned to Darius, though I’m not entirely sure why they chose me to do it, considering I don’t get the impression he really has a type. We’d all heard the rumors on how he wanted out of the life, that he had turned over a new leaf and had moved on as the accountant, Darius Hughes. It was whispered that he had the perfect cover for someone wanting to clean or hide money or whatever you wanted to do with illegal money. He was also known for constantly thwarting the illegal dealings of many powerful men, so eliminating him was high on everyone’s to-do list. He was so different from the man on paper that it was quite confusing at first, but after a while, he grew on me.”

“You’re the enemy?” Jayme’s words are quiet, cold.

I meet his gaze head-on, unflinching. “I was. But I’m not now.”

He narrows his eyes at me, then looks over at Darius. I don’t look away from him, so I don’t know what passes between the two of them, but finally, Jayme turns back to me and nods. “Fine. Continue.”

I clear my throat. “It obviously shocked me to learn I was the enemy in that warehouse with Vincent. Shit, everything he said was a fucking shock, really.”

Agatha speaks up. “It sure was to me. And I bet Lilith must’ve been super pissed that Vincent ran his mouth like that before she could explain it to us herself.”

I tense, a stabbing pain coming through my chest at the mention of her name. Agatha looks at me expectantly, but she must see the look on my face because she frowns, then leans forward, staring into my face as she asks, “Toni? What is it?”

The stabbing pain is there again, and my response gets stuck in my throat as my guts twist. I squeeze my eyes shut, but then Dare’s hand is on the back of my neck, squeezing hard enough for it to be slightly uncomfortable. I lean back into his grip, taking a shuddering breath in as he leans close, pressing his face against my ear, whispering, “Are you okay? Do you want me to tell her?”

I shake my head, forcing myself to swallow the lump in my throat as I open my eyes and turn my head toward him. He pulls back and looks at me as I reply, “I’ll do it. I can do it.”

With a last squeeze on the back of my neck, he releases me and sits back in his chair. I give him a small smile and then turn back to Agatha, who’s staring at me with a stony expression on her face. “Lilith is dead. She died in that warehouse protecting me.”

Agatha’s eyes search mine for a few moments, then she gives a curt nod and sits back in her chair. I don’t know what to do. It’s not like I know her at all or that I even know how to comfort anyone. “She didn’t have time to tell me much, but she told me that Mickey would know everything, and he seemed to. Do you want to know?”

She nods, so I give them a summary of how Lilith’s father abused her when she was barely a teenager. And how she had fought every day of her life to keep us safe. I explained our individual parentage and how each of us ended up on a different path. I did my best to explain how much we meant to her. I probably did a shit job, but I never said I was good with words.

Agatha’s eyes look glassy, but she keeps her emotions in check. We all sit silently for a few moments, and finally, she asks, “So you’re saying we have different fathers?”

I nod. “That’s what Mickey said. I think he made a joke once about us being Irish twins, but we definitely do not have the same father.”

She tilts her head at me as if she’s studying my features. We have the same eyes, which, of course, we got from Lilith, but her bone structure is a little more refined, and she’s shorter than me, willowier, as they say.

Jayme interrupts, laughing. “You certainly look like twins at a glance, but those similarities become less the more you look at the two of you next to each other. I figure you both got your looks from your mama, and all that other shit came from whoever your father was. Kind of like me.”

Darius snorts. “Pretty sure you got all the shit from both sides.”

Jayme squints at him. “You say that now, but I recall a few times where you were eyeballing my mom. Shall I remind you of the things that you’ve said about her?”

Agatha laughs, and I turn to him, my mouth falling open in shock. “Darius Hughes, you dirty dog. You had a thing for the reverse-age-gap?”

He turns and looks at me, confusion painting his face. “Reverse age gap? What are you talking about?”

“Oh, I do like a good reverse age gap,” Agatha says, waggling her brows.

Dare and Jayme look at each other, perplexed, so I take pity on them and explain. “A reverse age gap is when the woman is significantly older than the man. As opposed to the age gap where the man is significantly older than the woman.”

Dare shakes his head at me. “I always forget about you and your porn books. You don’t seem the type.”

Agatha scoffs. “What exactly is the porn-book type? You men could learn a lot from them.”

Jayme shakes his head. “No way. What could a romance book possibly teach a man of the world like me?”

“First, it might teach you when to shut the fuck up. That would be a start.” Agatha flips him the bird.

Then, I add, “Also, dirty talk. The importance of foreplay and clitoral simulation.”

Agatha cackles loudly. “That’s a good one. What else…Oh, cheating is a no. Possessiveness is a go.”

Dare interjects, “How about stalking? Is stalking okay?”

Agatha shakes her head, staring at him like he’s crazy as she replies. “Stalking is only good in fiction. Outside of fiction, it is a hard no.”

---