Page 16 of The Psychopaths

I’m not.

“Well, that was a nice surprise,” Mother says, delicately patting her lips with her napkin. “Aries looks well, doesn’t he? Your father is trying to talk him into a summer internship on top of his school duties.”

I make a noncommittal sound, taking a sip of water to hide whatever expression might betray my thoughts. Aries didn’t just look well, he looked transformed. Like someone wearing my stepbrother’s face but inhabiting it differently.

“I hope you’re packing appropriate attire for your dorm room,” Mother continues, transitioning seamlessly to her favorite topic: my appearance and its reflection on the family. “I’ve had Marissa press your fall wardrobe and organize it by occasion. The garment bags are labeled.”

“Thank you.” I had specifically asked her not to have the staff pack for me. Another boundary ignored, another decision made without consultation.

“I’ve also taken the liberty of speaking with Professor Winters about your schedule. He assures me the coursework won’t overtax you, given your condition.” She re-folds her napkin. “Though I still think you should have considered remote learning for at least the first semester.”

Myconditionshe speaks of is the heart defect that has defined my existence since birth. The perfect excuse for overprotection, control, and keeping me forever in the role of Fragile Hayes Daughter.

“Dr. Matthews cleared me completely, Mother. My last three scans were perfect.”

“Doctors can be wrong, darling.” She waves away medical expertise with the same certainty she dismisses all opinions contrary to her own. “Remember Cousin Elizabeth? The doctorssaid her arrhythmia was controlled, and then that dreadful episode happened at summer camp.”

Cousin Elizabeth’sdreadful episodewas a panic attack brought on by the same suffocating concern I’ve endured my entire life. Correcting Mother’s medical misconceptions is pointless after twenty years of trying.

“I’ve scheduled monthly appointments with Dr. Reinhart near campus,” she continues, signaling for the server to clear our plates despite my dinner being largely untouched. “And I’ve informed the dormitory supervisor about your medication schedule.”

Humiliation burns in my veins. I can’t even attend college without my medical history preceding me. Of house mothers and resident advisers watching for signs of weakness, monitoring my activities, just to report back to Mother.

“That wasn’t necessary,” I say, unable to entirely keep the edge from my voice. “I’m perfectly capable of managing my own health.”

“Nonsense.” She dismisses my independence with practiced ease. “What kind of mother would I be if I didn’t ensure proper care for my daughter? Especially with your history.”

The server appears with dessert, a panna cotta with fresh berries, another dish I don’t particularly enjoy but have learned to accept with a grateful smile. Mother launches into elaborate plans for the upcoming semester, which social events I should attend, which students I should befriend, and which professors might provide useful connections for future charitable committee positions.

I nod at appropriate intervals, offering the expected responses while my mind remains fixed on the study door. On Aries. On the strange electricity of our brief interaction.

On Tuesday and Thursday campus visits that suddenly make the prospect of college infinitely more interesting.

“Eight years,” Mother says, admiring her wedding ring in the chandelier light. “Can you believe your father and I will celebrate eight years of marriage next month? It feels like just yesterday we met at that charity thing after his wife’s death.”

“Stepfather,” I correct automatically, though I know she prefers I drop the prefix. Richard Hayes has beenFathersince the wedding, my actual father relegated to vague memories and occasional child support checks that Mother dismisses asentirely insufficient.

She frowns slightly at my correction but continues undeterred. “I’m trying to convince Richard to take a proper vacation for our anniversary. Perhaps the villa in Santorini. Lord knows he could use the break from work.”

I nod, arranging my features into appropriate interest while pushing the panna cotta around my plate. “That sounds lovely. I’m sure you both deserve the time away.”

“The challenge, of course, is getting him to commit to two full weeks. He insists the Hayes Enterprises merger with Northstar Pharmaceuticals requires his constant attention.” She sighs dramatically. “Men and their work. As if the company would collapse without him for fourteen days.”

“Perhaps a compromise?” I suggest the expected diplomatic response. “A shorter trip but completely disconnected from work? No calls, no emails.”

Mother brightens, patting my hand approvingly. “What a wonderful suggestion, darling. So practical, just like your father. Richard always responds better to compromise than direct opposition.”

I smile and nod, playing my role perfectly while carefully avoiding any mention that Richard Hayes is nothing like my actual father. That particular correction never ends well.

“I’ve already spoken with his assistant about clearing his calendar,” she continues, lowering her voice conspiratorially,though we’re alone in the dining room. “And I’ve had Marissa research private villas with poor internet connectivity. Sometimes technical difficulties are a blessing, don’t you think?”

“Very strategic,” I agree, recognizing the familiar pattern of manipulation she considers wifely duty. The careful orchestration of circumstances to achieve desired outcomes without direct confrontation. The Hayes family way.

“I’m thinking of wearing the blue Valentino to the anniversary dinner,” she muses, already mentally packing. “Though perhaps that’s better saved for the charity gala next week. Speaking of which, you’ll need to confirm your attendance even though you’ll be at school. Your father insists the entire family present a united front for potential investors.”

“I’ve already marked my calendar,” I assure her, though the thought of returning home mere days after escaping to college makes my stomach clench. “Blue would look wonderful on you.”

She beams at the compliment, launching into detailed descriptions of potential outfits, seating arrangements, donation strategies, and which board members might be susceptible to particular conversational topics. I provide all the right responses—appreciative murmurs, thoughtful nods, appropriate questions that demonstrate engagement without actually requiring much thought.

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