Page 30 of Last Comes Fate

“She came to apologize, Ces,” Xavier said. “At least, she’s been apologizing to me for the last half hour. TheDaily Mailcornered her for that interview and printed lies. She didn’t have the money to sue, and you know the libel laws in England are weak. They can basically print whatever they want.”

“I don’t want to hear it,” I snapped. “She has nothing to say that interests me anymore. And please spare me the bullshit about libel laws. Not when she’s been spouting off to American publicationsthis morning.”

Xavier reared, his head pivoting to my mother so fast it was as if a rubber band snapped. “What?”

I glared at her, pleased at least a little color had risen in her cheeks. “Check theNew York Post.Joni was very proud of the fact that she madePage Six, like a bona fide New York socialite. Too bad she’s so broke, Mami. She’d be your perfect target.”

Xavier took his phone out of his jacket pocket and pulled up the site I’d seen earlier that day. Immediately, his blue eyes lost all reflection of the sky and turned to storm clouds.

Mami just sighed. “Frankie, it was taken completely out of context. I said so many nice things about you they didn’t even print!”

“Things like ‘there was something wrong with her from the beginning’?” Xavier read with disgust as he thumbed through the article. “‘Same as the little girl. My husband wasn’t good for much, and the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.’” He looked up. “The papers in the US can’t print things like this without confirmed quotes. There are strict laws about it. My lawyers told me.”

“Exactly,” I spat. “Everything in there is on record.” I tipped my head at my mother. “How much did they give you? Enough for a little nip and tuck, I see. Nice new bag. Get your hair and nails done, huh?”

Just the idea disgusted me. My stomach roiled, and it was from a hell of a lot more than morning sickness. Even as the smug look on her face started to fade, I wanted to be sick.

Xavier finished scanning the article and looked up with that blue flickering dangerously in his eyes. He stood up and joined me on the sidewalk to face her. I crossed my arms with satisfaction. Xavier and I might have ended our romantic relationship, but I couldn’t lie—it felt good for him to have my back at last.

“Tell me, Mrs. Zola—” he started.

“It’s Ortiz,” I cut in through my teeth. “She never took Daddy’s name.”

I’d never been gladder for it.

“Ortiz,” Xavier repeated in a voice with a whole lot more lurking beneath its even surface. “What’s your end game here? Spit salacious shit about your daughter and me for what? A few extra quid? Fifteen minutes of fame?” He cocked his head. “That’s barely worked for the Markles, you know. And I’m certainly no Duke of Sussex. The papers won’t be interested in you forever, and meanwhile you’ll alienate Francesca completely. Honestly, I think you’ve done a good enough job of that over the years without the help of the press.”

My mother stood slowly, picking up her Chanel handbag from the steps. As if she could see the disdain in our eyes as we looked at the designer label, she thrust it guiltily behind her back.

“I didn’t mean any of it,” she insisted. “Obviously. They were willing to pay more if I said things like that. They promised.”

While I had essentially already known that, it hurt to hear her say it so willingly. As if she didn’t really need to feel bad. As ifIwas the one who ought to understand.

“You don’t realize how hard it is,” she said, her Bronx accent growing thicker with every syllable. “Every day. I live in this terrible apartment with four other women just like me, fresh out of the joint. Tracy, she lasted two months before jumping off the wagon. We all got minimum wage jobs because no one hires anyone with a record. My hair looked like it had been washed in garbage, all my friends were gone, and then none of my kids would see me—”

“Lea said—”

“Lea cut me out after you shared that interview from the summer,” my mother spat. “Ungrateful. I couldn’t believe her.”

I pursed my lips. “I hope they paid you well.”

Mami shrugged. “It was enough to cover my rent for a few months, but…”

“But you wanted more, so you turned to thePostinstead,” Xavier continued for her. “Did they pay better?”

She shot him a glare. “I just need a little more. Just enough to get back on my feet.”

“Or pay for Botox?” I asked as Xavier muttered something like “for fuck’s sake” under his breath.

“The article did well today,” Mami said, as if that was supposed to make me feel better. “People are interested in you, baby. They want more. Another magazine said they’d pay for a video. A group interview with you, Frankie. More, if the duke here does it too.” She swallowed. “Five hundred thou for all three of us. We can split it fifty-fifty if you want, even thoughhis highnessdoesn’t exactly need the cash, does he? You let me take it all—enough to get an apartment of my own somewhere, you know?—and that’s the last, I promise. Who knows, they’d probably pay you for an exclusive of your own. Get a little something to help fix this place up for you and Sofia. I’m on your side here, Frankie. I’m your mother. This could be a good thing for all of us.”

It was impossible to miss the glee that passed over her face as she considered that amount of money. It was fleeting, but she couldn’t hide it completely.

Which told me one thing only—this would never be the last thing she’d ask of me. And because she was even asking, she wasn’t a mother at all.

I swallowed thickly, counted to ten, then finally managed to look at her without wanting to tear her eyes out.

“I’m going to go inside,” I said quietly. “And you’re going to leave. And then I’m going to ask Matthew to file a restraining order against you. It’s what he’s wanted to do from the beginning.”

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