Page 106 of Thorns of Deceit
He lifted a hand in a careless wave, his gold cufflinks catching the light. “Celebrating my anniversary. Twenty years of marital bliss.”
Across the room, my aunt gave us a polite, almost apologetic wave before turning back to her wine—tactful enough to know not to step into whatever this was.
Jack’s eyes finally shifted to Raven, and for the first time in his life, he froze. The color drained from his face as recognition—or disbelief—set in.
“What the fuck…” he breathed, voice dropping low. His stare darted between us. “Who’s… who the hell is this?”
Raven didn’t flinch. Her jaw tightened, her hands curling on the table, but her glare was sharp enough to cut glass.
I leaned back in my chair, my tone deceptively calm. “You should probably get back to your table before you make a scene.”
He stood there at the edge of our table, looking between Raven and me like the world had just cracked open beneath his feet.
“Jesus Christ,” he muttered. “She’s supposed to be dead.”
Raven’s expression was unreadable, though I could see the storm building behind her eyes. She set her napkin on the table with precise calm, every movement deliberate.
“Apparently not,” she said quietly.
Jack’s mouth opened, then closed again. For once, he didn’t have a quip ready. I’d never seen him at a loss for words before. It was almost satisfying.
“What is this, Aiden?” he demanded finally, gesturing between us. “Some kind of sick joke? Is this your revenge for me going to Duncan without you, nephew?”
“I’m not petty like you,” I gritted.
“You… you have no idea what you’ve done.” He pointed a finger at my wife, just about to poke her with it when I grabbed his wrist, then rose from my chair. His eyes snapped to mine. “You knew,” he accused. “You knew she was alive.”
“This doesn’t concern you,” I said simply. “And you’re not going to mention Raven to anyone. You understand me?”
“That little huss?—”
“Careful what you say, Uncle,” I said, keeping my voice low but firm. “You’re about to ruin your own anniversary dinner.”
Jack took a step closer, his voice rough. “Do you have any idea what her disappearance did to our business? Duncan has been targeting us for five years.”
“It’s no longer your business,” I pointed out.
“And what about me?” His voice rose with anger. “I had a fucking heart attack from the stress.”
Around us, conversation continued, waiters weaved between tables, oblivious. But in our corner of Le Petit Chardon, the air had gone razor-sharp.
“Uncle, I’m warning you.”
“Her death ruined our business. Gave me a fucking heart attack!”
Raven stood then, her chair scraping softly against the floor.
“Don’t you dare make this about you,” she hissed. “And I couldn’t give two shits about your heart or your stupid business, you greedy asshole. You ruined my mother’s life.”
“Your mom is a snitch and?—”
“Don’t,” I warned.
Uncle Jack glared at me, but I could see the uncertainty there now.
“You have no idea why my mom did that,” Raven shot back.
“You’re taking this brat’s side over your own family?” he shouted.
