“I’m just getting into Avebury Court right now. Sail and the kids are with me. Cillian, Persy, and Sam are already there. Mom is …” Hunter paused, drawing a breath. “I don’t know how she is, Ash. She hasn’t picked up the phone. Hurry. You’re the only one who could ever get through to her.”

I’m the only who makes the effort, I thought bitterly.

“All right, love you.”

“Love you, too, sis.”

With that, he hung up.

My knee bounced against the steering wheel the entire drive home.

Mother. Fragile, vulnerable Jane Fitzpatrick.

Who drowned her sorrow in shopping sprees, cried every time I opted to go out with friends and not stay with her, and always had a ready-made request on the tip of her lips to make me serve her in some way.

Growing up, I’d thought I was just like her.

Meek, shy, and elegant. I’d tried so hard to become what people expected me to be. The fragileness of Jane Fitzpatrick, from her bony structure to her dainty beauty, drew a lot of admirers and the envy and ire of women over the years. But as time passed, I realized I was stronger than my mother, much stronger, and more independent, too.

Which implied I looked like my mom but had the same characteristics as my dad.

That was something I was too grossed out to explore right this moment.

Jane Fitzpatrick slipped in and out of depression like it was her favorite gown, and my father, although he was now retired and dabbled with the family business only a couple hours a day, did very little to try to help her.

Which was why I’d decided to stay at home as long as I could before I’d eventually get married and start my own family.

People always silently judged me for my decision to remain home.

They always assumed I stayed because I wanted to be coddled.

No one had suspected I stayed because I was the one doing the coddling.

But I did just that, flipping the tables and becoming her parent. Her first real depression happened when I was eighteen; I hadn’t slept, spending all my time filling her baths, brushing her hair, giving her daily pep talks, and taking her to doctors.

Since then, I’d helped nurse her through her ups and downs three more times. So having my father so carelessly ruin all my work felt like a stab in the back.

I parked in front of the house with a screech then threw the double doors to our mansion open, ignoring the pitter-patter of my heart at the sight of Sam’s Porsche, which was parked next to Cillian’s Aston Martin and Hunter’s G-Class Mercedes.

Finding everyone was hardly a task. I followed the shrieks and hysterical cries of my mother, all the way from the foyer to the second dining room. Her wails bounced across the high ceilings, ricocheting against marble statues and family paintings.

I came to a halt when I reached the dining area. Mother and Athair were standing at the center, the gardens and heavy burgundy drapes their backdrop as they engaged in a screaming match from Hell.

Mother was so red I thought she was going to explode. Da tried the inconsistent method of apologizing profusely one moment and heatedly defending himself the next. Behind them, I spotted Cillian sneering down at them distastefully, one of his arms draped tenderly over his fair-haired wife, Persephone, who held their son, Astor, close to her chest.

Hunter, Sailor, and their children were there, too. Standing at a safe distance in case Mother started throwing sharp objects, which wasn’t unlikely.

Cillian snapped his fingers once, and two maids rushed inside, wordlessly scooping up the toddlers, who had no business seeing their grandparents like this.

Devon, our family lawyer, was not in the room. I could see him behind the French doors leading to the gardens, talking heatedly on the phone, trying to defuse the situation with the media, no doubt. His footsteps dented the otherwise pristine, untouched snow.

Then there was Sam. He lounged against the wall in the corner of the room, his fists shoved into the pockets of his slacks, a slight, cunning smirk on his lips, all devastating beauty and casual destruction.

I squared my shoulders, feeling my nostrils flare with fresh hot anger.

It had been a week since I’d seen Sam. Since we shared a romp. Since I convinced myself I could worm my way into his heart.

The next day, I’d come to his club, just like we’d arranged, only to find out he was out of the state.

“Sorry, love, but Boss is on more important business than a casual fuck. Guess your two minutes of being Brennan’s mistress are up,” one of his soldiers had said as he laughed in my face when I demanded to go inside.

My ears pinked in shame when I thought about that night. Sam hadn’t even bothered to pick up the phone and make a call. Text me. Anything to let me know that our plans had changed.

Time had grown thick and sticky since I’d last seen him, each minute lasting forever, like it had moved against a current. Now that he was in front of me, and I couldn’t even give him the scolding he deserved because we were in my family’s company.

My eyes shifted from Sam back to my parents.

“No one asked you to be faithful, Gerald!” Mother flung her arms in the air, exclaiming loudly. “That would be too much for you, wouldn’t it, dear? But why couldn’t you be discreet about it? How much do you think I can tolerate? I am a walking, talking joke! Look at these pictures. Just look at them!” My mother tossed a newspaper in the air, slapping it against my father’s meaty chest.

From my spot by the door, I could see it was a picture of my father titty-grabbing a busty blonde who was giggling at the camera. It was obvious he was butt naked as was she. She was sitting in his lap, and it was also obvious that they were doing it.

“To make matters worse, she is twenty-five! Younger than your own daughter. What were you thinking? Aisling, there you are!” Mother turned to look at me, momentarily forgetting she was in the middle of publicly humiliating my father. “Be a darling and ask someone to give me my special tea with honey and ginger and see to it that my hot bath will be ready soon.”

Everyone’s eyes turned in my direction, surprised and puzzled that I’d been asked to do the task of a butler’s. They shouldn’t be. If they looked closely, they’d see I’d been the help in this house all along.

“Of course, Mother.” I smiled tightly, gliding out of the room with as much elegance and nonchalance that I could muster, delivering requests to the maids to ensure she would be taken care of while I was gone. I returned back to the dining hall just in time to see Mother throwing her wedding band at my father.

Deciding he’d had his fair share of dark entertainment for one evening, Cillian stepped between them.

“Enough. Who do you think could’ve leaked this?” Cillian demanded. “It’s not the woman in the pictures. She is married now, with a child on the way, and is horrified by this coming out. Hunter spoke to her earlier. She claims someone hacked into her old phone and stole the images illegally.”

“And by her hiccups and hysterical crying, she said the truth, too,” Hunter added from the corner of the room.

“I’ll bet! I never would’ve given her the time of the day otherwise! I’ve been careful. I swear.” Athair shook his fist in the air, his chin wobbling in unison. “This is a setup. You know I’d never do you wrong, Jane my dear.”

My mother took another step back from my father, staring at him like he was a complete stranger. Her striking beauty highlighted how tragically lacking he was in the looks department.