Page 73 of Nearly Dead

“I was protecting our family’s interests!”

“Were you?”Astrid opens a third folder.“Or were you positioning yourself to assume control of Tamara once she was contained?These documents outlining a transfer of power in the event of her incapacitation suggest otherwise.”

“That was to take the burden off my brother,” my uncle insists as he glances around the room.

One by one, those gathered rise from their seats, their expressions ranging from disgust to fury.Mortimer stands alone at the head of the table, his carefully constructed alliance crumbling around him.

“This meeting is adjourned,” Elder Birch announces.“Mortimer Devine, you are suspended from council activities pending a full investigation into these allegations.”

“You can’t?—”

“We can,” Birch cuts him off.“And we have.”

Still my father says nothing.

“Astrid, you will send us copies,” Birch states.

I take a quick step back and press myself against the wall as they file out of the room from the main door, none of them noticing my presence in the shadowed alcove.Only Astrid remains with Mortimer and my father, gathering her folders with methodical precision.

“You’ve ruined everything,” Mortimer snarls once they’re alone.“You have no idea what you have done.What this would have done for our family.All of this has been for the power of the Devine legacy, in service to?—”

“No, Mortimer,” Astrid replies calmly.“You ruined everything yourself.Did you really think I wouldn’t discover your schemes?That I would allow you to sacrifice my daughter for your ambitions?”

“She’s not your daughter,” he yells.“She’s the bastard spawn of your husband’s infidelity.A reminder of his betrayal that you’ve been forced to tolerate.”

Astrid goes very still.When she speaks, her voice is barely above a whisper, but it carries a weight that makes even me shiver.

“I pity you, Mortimer.How lonely your life must be, spent clinging to the coattails of your older brother, trying to find meaning in nothingness.You have never understood family, have you?You see only power and position, calculations and advantages.You’ve never comprehended what it means to love someone beyond yourself.To take responsibility and do the hard things in service to another’s wellbeing.”She closes the distance between them, looking down at him with cold contempt.“Motherhood is a choice.Tamara has been my daughter from the moment Lorelai placed her in my arms, just as Anthony is my son by birth.I chose to be a mother, Mortimer, her mother, their mother.I continue to choose her.Can you say the same about anyone in your miserable existence?”

Mortimer has no answer.He stands there, diminished, as if Astrid’s words have physically reduced him.

“You will leave this house today,” she continues.“Your personal effects will be sent to you.If you attempt to contact any member of this family again, I will ensure the council receives the complete record of your dealings, not just the excerpts I shared today.Think about that.Think about all those letters and emails and scrolls.Centuries worth of evidence.”

“Davis, you won’t allow this,” he says, but there’s no conviction in his voice.

“Mortimer, I think Astrid…” My father’s voice trails off.

Astrid gives a soft laugh.“Davis has never been the one making these decisions, have you darling?”

Astrid’s smile is thin and sharp as a blade.

My father stays quiet.

“We just let the world believes he is,” Astrid continues.“The magics do so love the idea of their perfect patriarchy.”

With that, she turns and walks toward my door forcing me to quickly retreat down the hall and around the corner.I sag against the wall, my mind racing with everything I’ve just heard.

Mortimer’s betrayal hurts but it doesn’t surprise me.He’s always treated me as a burden.But Astrid’s defense of me, the ruthless efficiency with which she destroyed him, the blunt revelation that she’s been the true power behind the Devine name all along shakes me to my core.I mean, I’ve assumed as much, but to hear it confirmed as a cold hard fact…

All my life, I’ve been led to believe my father is the central figure in our family’s power structure.Davis Devine, the charismatic patriarch whose decisions shaped our world.But it was Astrid, working from the shadows, making the real choices that kept our family secure.

And she chose me.Not out of obligation or appearances, but because she wanted to.She claimed me as her own, defended me as her own, even knowing I wasn’t her blood.

I hear the sound of the door closing, followed by the sound of Astrid’s heels moving toward me.I try to put distance between us, but her voice stops me.“I’m sorry you had to hear that.”

I hang my head and take a deep breath.When I turn to answer, she’s gone.

I find myself moving down the hallway in a daze, my mind full of worry.The sun has fully risen, its light filtering through the sides of curtains in golden streams that I instinctively avoid.

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