“Like I’ve been dragged through hell. Why do we never talk honestly to each other about anything?”

“It’s never fun to poke at raw wounds,” Juliet said. “That’s why we avoid it. But your weird voice mail made me think back to my trip to Paris. I’ve been talking about it with Deirdre. The timing was terrible—I had exams coming up—but Father insisted that I go. It was unusually generous of him. I should’ve guessed he’d have an ulterior motive.”

“There always is, with our father,” I said. “Now I want you to tell me what you remember about our mother.”

“Father made it clear I was never supposed to talk about her. Not ever.” Juliet’s red mouth tightened. “I was seven when she vanished. I couldn’t understand what had happened—I went to bed one night and everything was normal. When I woke up the next morning, our mother was gone and you were badly injured. Father wouldn’t take you to the hospital, but there were a pair of doctors buzzing around, and Ursula was barking at them in German. I didn’t understand a word. Father told me that our mother had tried to kill you before she ran away. He told me I couldn’t tell anyone, or our mother would go to jail forever, that they might even execute her.” Her eyes were damp. “Even then, I knew he was lying. And he made me lie to you. He said it would be better if you thought a wild animal attacked you. He made up a story about you being torn up by a tiger at the zoo. I know it sounds horrible, but I went along with it. He always reminded me what would happen to our mother if I didn’t.”

“Our mother was already dead,” I said.

“On some level, I think I knew she was gone, but I clung to anything that let me pretend she was alive,” Juliet said.

“What else do you remember?”

“I know Ursula went away for a long time, and I was so glad—you know how much I always hated her—but then she came back, and they got married. In my mind, she was the wicked witch who got rid of my mother.”

“Father’s the one we should blame. He killed our mother.”

Juliet perched on the edge of the bed. “How can you be sure? You weren’t even four when all of this happened.”

“You don’t have to trust my memory,” I said. “Ursula’s been dropping hints that she can’t live with herself. I believe she knows most of what happened. The question is if we can get her to admit it.”

Then I told her everything.

CHAPTER 52

THEO

When I got out of the hospital a week after I went in, I returned to the cursed house my father had bought as a present for a doomed marriage. But I also quietly made the preparations I needed to. It wouldn’t do to make a move until I was ready.

By the time I came home, Ursula had been moved from a mental hospital—to ensure she didn’t attempt to kill herself again—to an alcohol-detox facility upstate. She wept when I drove up to see her. “I’m so sorry. I thought I was helping Teddy,” she said. “That was all I cared about.”

“I know you did,” I told her. “And you still can. You told me Caroline wanted you to reveal the truth. I need you to do that.”

“I don’t know if I can. I did awful things, Theo . . .”

“I have faith in you,” I told her. “So did Caroline.”

When my stepmother finished her weeklong program, she opted to stay with Teddy and me, telling my father she didn’t feel ready to talk quite yet. She asked him to come over late on a Thursday afternoon.

When my father arrived, he clapped me on the back, as if he hadn’t spent my entire life gaslighting me. “You’re looking well, son.” He grinned at me, and I attempted to smile back.

“Come sit in the parlor, Father. I can’t even remember when you last visited. What can I offer you to drink?”

“Something celebratory. Sancerre—or even champagne,” he answered.

“Ursula just got out of her detox program,” I said. “Do you really think that’s a good idea?”

“Let’s be realistic,” he said. “She’ll never be able to stop drinking. Why pretend?”

“It’s strange how you like to say what’s past is past, and yet you think people should be trapped by their history,” I said. “I believe people are capable of far greater change than you realize.”

He shrugged. “You’re setting yourself up for disappointment, son.”

“Perhaps,” I said. “Perhaps not.”

There were footsteps behind me.

“I heard a request for sparkling,” Juliet said. “Theo has a fine assortment of imported waters. Shall I pour you a glass?”

“I’m not keeping alcohol in the house these days,” I explained.

It took our father a moment to recover. “Well, I am surprised to see you here, Juliet.”

“Why? My brother and I have been discussing history lately. It’s a subject we both enjoy.”

“I know,” our father answered casually. “But it seems like just the other day you were telling me you wished your brother had died instead of Caroline.”

His basilisk eyes stayed on hers. Juliet faltered, freezing in place. Divide and conquer. That had always been our father’s strategy. He controlled the two of us by fueling our long-standing rivalry.

“I wouldn’t blame Juliet for that,” I said. “I’ve wished the same thing myself.”

My sister glanced at me, amused and maybe even slightly relieved. It seemed to propel her forward. “What’s that saying of yours, Father? ‘A liar has to have a perfect memory.’ Yours is impressively sharp.”

“I can recall my Shakespeare, at least. ‘How sharper than a serpent’s tooth it is to have a thankless child.’ Or, in my case, two thankless children. After everything I’ve done for the pair of you, this is how you repay me?”

“Don’t even start,” Juliet said. “I’ve devoted my life to running your company. I’ve done everything you ever asked of me. You owe me answers. You owe us both.”

“Haven’t you told me, time and time again, Juliet, that I owe your brother nothing? That I ought to cast him out on the street because he’s worthless?” It was clear that our father saw my sister as the weak link, the one who would crack under pressure. I’d spent years defying him; Juliet had always been eager to please him. If he could, he would twist her loyalty back to him and break her with it.

“I’ve deserved to be called worthless,” I said.

“Believe me, he has called you far worse than that,” Ursula said from the doorway. Her voice was cool and crisp. She was simply dressed in a white shirt and trousers, but her eyes were brighter than I’d ever seen them. “He called you a killer. He made all of us believe it.”

“Was this your plan? The three of you ganging up on me? Because I don’t have time for this shit.” My father got to his feet. “I’m also giving you notice to vacate this house, Theo. I own it. You’re just a tenant. You can live on the street for all I care.”

“You don’t want to leave just yet,” I said. “You’ll want to hear our exciting news about the family business.”

“What news?”

“I’ve decided to return to Thraxton International.”

He peered at me as if I were a curious artifact he couldn’t decide was real or counterfeit. “Are you serious? You want to work with me?”

“Definitely not. I’ll be working for Juliet.” I glanced her way. “What’s my title again?”

“Senior vice president of global operations, ethics, and compliance,” Juliet announced grandly.

“Is this some kind of joke?” Our father’s head swiveled to look back and forth between us.

“Theo and I agree that a nicely downsized hotel business is the way of the future,” Juliet said. “Our future, at least. No money laundering. No crime-ing at all. Can you even imagine it? Don’t answer that, Father, because I know you can’t.”

“You think you can quit?”

“We’re not quitting anything,” Juliet said. “We’re firing you.”

He broke out in laughter. “You two are incredible,” he said finally. “You barely have a penny to your names. How are you going to take the business away from me?”

“Because you’ll be in jail,” Juliet said.

He shook his head. “If I go to jail, honey, you go to jail. There’s no way to implicate me in any crime without implicating yourself. Theo might be able to wriggle off the hook, but the name Juliet Thraxton is on documents from here to Moscow.”

“Actually, Theodore,” Ursula said, “Juliet is quite safe. You’re the one who’ll go to jail for murder.”

My father blinked at his wife, suddenly uncertain about how much the ground was shifting under his feet. “Murder?” He glanced at me. “Sorry, Theo, but you don’t have a shred of evidence about Mirelle. None of you have anything you can prove. Klaus would never testify against me. I’ve always kept my hands clean. The men who work for me are well paid for their silence.”

“That doesn’t matter anymore,” Juliet said. “We have Mother’s body.”

“You have no such thing.” My father was eerily confident, as certain as if he’d buried her himself. For all I knew, he had.

“Pardon me—what I meant to say is that we have Mother’s body double,” Juliet said.