Page 54 of Absolution
“What are you planning?” Whatever it is, she has my complete support.
My phone is already in my hand, and she’s retrieved her own phone from her pocket.
“I’m going to call my mother.”
Those remarkable eyes focus on me. They glow with a fierce light, like a vengeful goddess seeking retribution.
“I’ve never told you this, but my ancestor was Andrew Zillman. My mother and uncle are his last living descendants. Well, other than me, but I’m not part of that family anymore. I want nothing to do with them after today.”
I search my mind. The name is vaguely familiar. “Zillman?”
Her nostrils flare with righteous anger. “Yes, one of the infamous American robber barons. My mother always prefers to call him acaptain of industry.But he built his fortune on other’s misery, and he left a rotten legacy behind.”
She waves a hand, directing us back to the present. “The family name is recognizable. There will be a certain level of local interest in a scandal, at the very least.”
“So, you intend to cause one?”
She gives me a savage nod. “I’m going to record my mother’s confession, and then I’ll leak it to the press. They will be ruined. Uncle Jeffrey will face intense public scrutiny for the rest of his life. He won’t dare harm another child.”
It’s similar to how I threatened my parents with ruin, but Abigail’s family doesn’t deserve the option of a reprieve. There will be no posturing about going to the press. She will destroy them without warning.
I press a kiss to her forehead. “My clever, ruthless queen.”
She looks deep into my soul and says, “I love you. Thank you for letting me handle this my way.”
I tuck a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “You’re handling it far better than I would have. If I had my way, he would’ve died too quickly. You’re ensuring a lifetime of pain. It’s still less than he deserves, but he will suffer.”
She nods. “I’ll need you to record the entire call, but we’ll cut out anything that suggests that my mom was also abused. It’s not right for me to tell what happened to her, but I can take control of my own story.”
“Whatever you need, Abigail,” I reassure her.
She finds her mother’s contact details and connects the call.
“Abby.” The greeting is frosty. “What do you want now?”
“I want you to tell me the same thing you told me on the beach yesterday. I want confirmation of how you failed to protect your own daughter from a sexual predator.”
As she exacts her vengeance, my muscles flex with the need to throttle someone. My own mother is a piece of work, but even she hasn’t done something so heinous.
“You’re being dramatic,” her mom replies tersely. “You’re an adult now, Abby. Grow up.”
“I wasn’t an adult when you left me alone with Uncle Jeffrey,” she seethes. “You knew he was capable of molesting me, and you let him babysit me anyway. You knew that he had a history of abusing children.”
Her voice hitches on the last. I can’t even imagine the pain of her mother’s betrayal.
The woman is a monster.
“You revealed a pattern of generational abuse,” Abigail continues, jaw flexing with barely restrained rage. “You told methese things run in the family.”
My stomach turns at the horrific words. It’s unfathomable that a mother could say such a thing to her daughter.
“Yes, they do,” her mom shoots back. “What did you expect me to do about it? I can’t control Jeffrey. What he did to you isn’t my fault.”
“It was your job to protect me!” Abigail accuses. “But you were too wrapped up in yourself to care that your daughter was being abused.”
“I can’t believe you would say such things to me. You will speak to me with respect. I am your mother.” She says it like an edict, a threat. As though the fact that she gave birth gives her the right to treat Abigail in whatever cruel way she chooses.
“Like it or not, we’re family, Abby. Blood is everything.”
