Page 72 of Broken Secrets
“Tomorrow? I thought they were staying through the weekend.”
“Change of plans.” She moves to check on the garlic bread in the oven, her movements sharp and efficient. “They need to get back.”
Something in her tone makes my stomach clench. “Why? What happened?”
“Nothing happened. Everything’s fine.” But her voice is too bright, too controlled. “Emma just needs to get back to school, and Jeremy has work obligations.”
I study her face, noting the tension around her eyes, the way she’s avoiding looking at me directly. “Mom, what’s going on?”
“Nothing’s going on. I took care of everything.”
“Took care of what?”
She finally stops stirring and turns to face me, but her expression is closed off in a way I recognize from years of difficult conversations. “I took care of Lilly. She’s not going to be a problem anymore.”
The casual way she says it sends a chill down my spine. “What do you mean, you took care of her?”
“I mean exactly what I said. Emma won’t have to worry about her mother’s ultimatums anymore.”
I take a step closer, trying to read her expression. “Mom, what did you do?”
“I did what I should have done eighteen years ago.” She turns back to the stove, effectively ending the conversation. “I protected my family.”
“Mom, you’re scaring me. What did you do to Lilly?”
“Don’t worry about it,” she says firmly, checking the pasta with more attention than it requires. “She’s not going to be a problem anymore. That’s all you need to know.”
Robert appears in the kitchen doorway, drawn by the tension in our voices. He takes in the scene, the obsessive cooking, Mom’s rigid posture, my confused expression, and his face becomes carefully neutral.
“Everything okay in here?”
“Everything’s fine,” Mom says quickly. “Dinner will be ready in twenty minutes.”
But everything is clearly not fine. The kitchen feels charged with an energy I don’t understand, and my mom’s behavior is unlike anything I’ve seen from her before. She’s always been protective—sometimes overly so—but this feels different: more intense. More… final. “Mom,” I try again, “please tell me what’s going on.”
“I said don’t worry about it, Olivia.” Her voice has a sharp edge that makes me take a step back. “Some things are better left alone.”
The sauce bubbles on the stove, the pasta timer counts down, and my mother continues her manic dinner preparation while refusing to explain why Jeremy and Emma are suddenly leaving early or what she’s done to make Lilly “not a problem anymore.”
As I watch her move around the kitchen with unusual intensity, I realize that while I’ve been learning to navigate relationships with my biological father and half sister, I may have underestimated the lengths my mother will go to protect the family she’s built.
And that scares me more than I want to admit.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
I heara knock on the door while nursing my second cup of coffee and pretending to read calculus homework. I set my coffee down and open the door only to see Jeremy.
“Morning,” he says quietly, “Can I come in?”
I nod and open the door more, and he follows me into the kitchen. “Coffee?” I ask. “Sure,” he says. I grab him a mug and pour him some.
“How are you holding up?”
“Better than Emma, it sounds like.”
“She’s struggling with the idea of going back to face her mother after everything that’s happened.” Jeremy sits across from me at the kitchen table, looking older than he did just a few days ago. “I was wondering if I could ask you something.”
“Of course.”
