His face changed. He lowered his eyes.
“Eight months.”
I pressed my lips together.
Eight months.
Eight months of tense hunger, fear, and carrying a baby through it all.
A slow, cold anger rose inside me, not the loud kind, the dangerous kind, the kind that sharpens everything.
I led Luke into the sitting room near the kitchen, where it was quieter. Henry stayed by the door. I could tell he wanted to remain close in case Luke panicked or Victor appeared, but his presence was calm, not heavy.
I poured water for Luke myself. His hands shook as he took the glass.
“Tell me everything from the beginning,” I said.
He stared into the water for a moment. “I don’t even know where the beginning is anymore.”
“Then start where it changed,” I said.
He nodded slowly.
“It changed after Mom died.”
The room seemed to still around us.
I had been expecting that answer, but hearing it out loud still hurt.
Luke swallowed. “Dad was never easy, but after Mom died, it was like something good disappeared from the house. He got harder. Meaner. He started controlling everything. He checked my phone, my messages, where I went, who I saw. If I asked about you, he’d blow up and say your name was poison.”
“What did he tell you about your mother?” I asked.
Luke looked sick.
“He said she was weak. He said she ruined the family. Then later, he said she lied to him. After a while, he stopped saying much at all. He just acted like asking questions was some kind of crime.”
My chest tightened.
Emily had not been weak. She had been warm and bright and brave in quiet ways. I remembered how she used to sneak extra pie to Luke when Victor was in one of his dark moods. I remembered how she looked at her son like he was the safest thing in the world.
That woman had loved her child with her whole heart.
“How did you end up with Lily?” I asked gently.
At that, something softer passed over his face.
“Her mother’s name is Ava,” he said. “We were together for two years.”
“And where is Ava now?”
His eyes filled.
“Gone.”
The word sat between us.
I waited.
“She didn’t leave us because she wanted to,” he said quickly. “Please don’t think that. She loved Lily. She loved her so much.”
He rubbed his face with one hand.
“She got sick after the baby came. At first we thought it was just stress and being tired all the time, but then it got bad. Real bad. She was in and out of the hospital. I was working nights at a warehouse and taking care of Lily during the day. Dad said he would help, but every time he helped, it came with strings.”
“What kind of strings?”
“He wanted control,” Luke said. “Over me, over Ava, over where we lived. He kept saying I was stupid, too young, too soft. He said if I signed some papers, he’d make life easy. He’d cover the hospital bills. He’d put Lily in a trust. He said it was for our protection.”
I felt the chill move down my spine.
“What papers?”
Luke looked ashamed. “I don’t know exactly. I know that sounds dumb.”
“It does not sound dumb,” I said firmly. “It sounds like a young man drowning while someone stronger took advantage of him.”
His shoulders dropped a little, like maybe no one had defended him in a long time.
“He rushed me,” Luke said. “Ava was sick. Lily was crying all the time. Dad would show up with lawyers or assistants and say, ‘Sign here. Sign here. I’m trying to save you.’”
He laughed once, bitter and small.
“I signed some, not all. Every time I asked what they were, he’d get mad.”
I leaned forward. “Did Ava know?”
Luke nodded. “She told me not to trust him. She said something felt wrong. A week before she died, she made me promise that if anything happened to her, I would keep Lily away from Dad.”
My throat tightened.
“Did she say why?”
