Page 7 of Vengeful Embers

“Good. Could you please set them out on the dinner table, sweetheart? The white tablecloth is already down.”

She turns back to the oven and doesn’t see me hesitate. I glance at the hall closet, the old wood floor beneath my sneakers. So many memories live in these walls. This house is muscle memory. This kitchen, every cabinet drawer, every creak in the stairs—I know them as well as the pages of my thesis. But today it feels different.

I move toward the dining room, but my tongue won’t stay quiet. “Mom,” I say, turning back, my voice more tentative than I’d like. “Can I ask you something?”

Carla doesn’t glance up from the roasting tray. “Of course, sweetheart. Make it quick, though—I still need to get dressed.”

“Do you know anything about Dad’s parents? Or… My biological mother, Lena’s family?”

That makes her stop. Not freeze. Not flinch. But her hand pauses mid-reach. Just for a second.

She recovers fast and turns to grab a tea towel to dry her hands. “Where’s this coming from?”

I start placing the china on the table as she had asked me to. “It's for extra credit,” I lie. “I was asked to help with a Genetics project. They’re making us trace biological traits through parents and grandparents. I was going to ask you about it next week, but I’m trying to get through so much right now, I didn’t want to forget.”

She stills again. A fraction longer this time.

Then her smile returns, and it’s too bright. “You’ve heard this before. Your father, Sol, didn’t know his parents. They died when he was young, before he joined the military.”

“And my biological mother, Lena?”

“She died in childbirth, baby. You know that. Sol was in the hospital at your birth when it happened.”

“Did she have family?”

“No.” Her answer is immediate. Firm with a hint of finality, like she’s slammed a door on the subject, and it wasn’t to be pursued. “No one but your dad. And then me, when she came to us to tell Sol about the pregnancy.”

“What about your family?” I try, knowing the answer word by word as it never changed.

She turns. Her eyes are soft now, not angry, and she gives me a sad smile. “There is no one but me, Tara. My only family is you and Sabrina—my girls are my whole world.”

I nod slowly, biting the inside of my cheek.

It’s the same story. Every time. I’ve asked in different ways, at different ages, and it’s never changed. I used to accept it, but after what I found in the storage unit today, I see it for what it is—a well-rehearsed story!

Now I see the flash of worry in her eyes, and I know there’s something she’s not telling me. I can feel it now, vibrating under my skin.

But I smile, and take the container, food, and cake she hands me.

“This is for you and Sabrina,” she tells me with love shining in her eyes. At least I know that is real. I just wonder what the price of that love was. “I wish you could both be here with us tonight.”

“We’re both working, Mom.” I take the dishes and kiss her cheeks. “Speaking of work, I have to get back to the club as myshift starts soon. Happy three-year relationship anniversary to you and Mark.”

I don’t bother going home. I have an outfit in my office and will use the shower in Gavriil’s. I walk in the door, and it’s already starting to fill up. The place always smells faintly of expensive perfume, scotch, and velvet.

“Tara, Gavriil asked me to remind you to see him when you got back,” Wayne, the barman, calls to me.

“Thanks, Wayne, I’m heading there now.” Shit, I nearly forgot Gavriil and Irina wanted to see me about something.

Back in Gavriil’s office, I sit across from him and Irina, who’s perched on the edge of his desk like she’s waiting for bad news.

They exchange glances, and something cold coils in my stomach.

“Tara,” Irina says gently. “We wanted to ask you something.”

“I swear to God,” I say, lifting a hand, “if you’re firing me, I’m gonna sue for emotional damage.”

That breaks the tension. Gavriil chuckles. “Not even close. But this is… big.”

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