tricks of time ― grayson hawthorne [the inheritance games]

036. A DEADLY ANSWER

"What do you want me to say?" She exclaims. "Yes! She is my daughter, and I did leave her!"

Alisa gasps. So does Leslie. Grayson and Jameson both take a sharp intake of breath. But as for me? I freeze. It's like tree roots have grabbed onto my ankles and are refusing to let me go. Because now that she's said it...now that it's there and in the air, I release that I've been avoiding the truth this whole time. I'd refused to believe it.

Lips parted, I look at Mr. Laughlin. Your Grandfather. He's gripping his wine glass so hard I'm scared it might shatter. He's taking deep, full, gulps of air.

"Oh my God," Oren mutters. "I can't believe it."

"What did you expect, John?" She cries.

"I don't know," he begins. "But I certainly didn't expect this!"

"Well..." she begins. "Now you know." She shifts her attention to me. "Now you know, too."

"You will tell me everything," I say. "You will tell me all of it."

"Oh yeah?" She questions. "How?"

"Wait." Alisa's voice cuts through the tension in the air. Everyone goes quiet immediately, because it's Alisa. "Before anything— before we start questioning you, Mallory— I must ask...how did you find out about this? How long have you known about this?"

"Yes!" Lottie exclaims, crazily. "Yes! That's precisely my question too!"

I look to Grayson. He looks back at me. And he starts talking.

"Jameson...Jameson was the one who suggested for us to even come here in the first place. He'd been— He'd been doing some research. About why Leah is even here." He pauses for a moment. "And so we listened. We got here yesterday evening, right after the fundraiser. We didn't waste any time. We started looking through the house, but specifically certain rooms. We found a secret room, and in there, was a poem. More of a message, really."

He pauses again. "In summary, it told us to look through the floorboards. We did, and we found a message in a bottle. Like the ones you see in the movies. And that was in it," he says, pointing to the paper with his eyes.

A few seconds of silence goes by. Then, Oren pounces again. "You spill every bean, Mallory, do you hear me? If you don't...or if I find out you're lying, I swear, it will be the end of you."

She shudders, but manages to keep it together. "Fine. But if I tell you the truth, you must promise that you cannot remove any of my family from this house. Not Dad, not Mom, Rebecca, not anyone."

When she says Rebecca's name, I suddenly realize that she is here too. For the first time today, I look at her, and see that she is cowering, head hung low. She can't bear to meet my eyes.

Oren thinks carefully. "That's up to me to decide. Nonetheless, Rebecca won't be moved, for sure. Neither will your father or mother— considering it looks like they have no clue of this whatsoever." His gaze flickers to Mallory. "If someone's going to go, that someone will be you."

Mallory draws her lips in a thin line, before saying, "Very well." She swallows, hard. Then, looks at me straight in the eye.

"It started out as nothing. Me and my husband— Alexander— you've never met him, had had a fight. I don't even remember what it was about. I'm sure it was something stupid. All of our fights back were, back then."

"We'd only been married for three months— we were newlyweds," she continued. And I was so mad, so I stormed out of our small little studio apartment. We used to live in Denver at the time, mind you."

"I didn't have anywhere to go," she said. "I remember, roaming the empty streets of Denver, street-lights barely working and cars zooming by. Then..." She hesitates for a moment, like she doesn't want to continue on. "Then I saw a club. And I thought, 'What's better than getting drunk?'"

"So I walked in, stole a full bottle of wine, and drank almost the whole thing. I was drunk, so I was dancing my heart out. But on the dance floor, I started talking to a guy. I still remember everything about him. Six feet tall and the most beautiful face I've ever seen. His name was Winston. Your father." She seems to have forgotten about her husband, who shifts uncomfortably. Clearly, he's never heard this story either.

"We started talking. He said that he was there because his wife cheated on him, and he wanted to try and forget about it, even if it was only for a bit. And because I was there for the exact same reason, he caught my eye."

She takes a shaky breath. "When he realized that I was enjoying this just as much as he was, he told me to come upstairs with him. And I thought that he was a good guy, so I did."

My blood turns cold. Because there's an inkling tearing through me about how this story will end. And it's not a good one.

"We talked for a while, and I was drunk, so talking turned into passionate kisses. But it started escalating, and I kept trying to get him off me, but I couldn't. And eventually, I just gave up trying. I was drunk, anyway. I had no idea what was happening to me, till the next morning. One thing led to another, and we had sex. Non-consensual, but sex."

She lets out a breath. "In the morning, I woke up. I was still sprawled out on the bathroom floor. The club was empty, and I was naked. My clothes were tossed all over the floor, some torn, some not. But he wasn't there. All I realized was that I'd been raped, and that Winston was gone and he was never coming back. All he'd left was a number, written in blue ink on my hand. It was his phone number."

"I don't understand," Grayson interjects. "Why did he give you his phone number if he'd..." Grayson pauses before continuing, "raped you?"

"I don't know," Ms. Laughlin says, her voice cracking. "I think he must have thought I didn't remember anything about the night."

"Continue on," Oren says. There's a twinge of sympathy in his voice that wasn't there before.

"And then a month later, everything hit me like a tsunami. The nausea, the late period, everything. And then I realized that I was pregnant."

Silence.

"I called Winston," she said. "But he said that he would never bother meeting me again. He said he didn't care about the baby. All he cared about was being called when I went into labor. And so I faked it," she says. "I faked everything to Alexander. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I know he can't forgive me, and that he's not even here, but I'm sorry."

"When I gave birth, I called Winston. He rushed over to the hospital, and I distracted Alexander so he could sign the birth certificate." She pauses for a moment, and opens her mouth as if she's about to talk— but doesn't, till a few moments later.

"Alex, was so, so gullible. I told him that the baby had a disorder. He was quick to put the baby up for adoption— you remember that, Mother, don't you?" Her voice turns icily cold in a second. "How he offered her up, and how you supported him, without a second thought, when I told you she was an ill child?"

Ms. Laughlin doesn't say anything.

"And so off she went. I always kept tabs on you, some way or the other. I knew your Mother had adopted you and I knew which town in Connecticut you lived in. But I didn't care much. Why would I? You were out of my life...forever."

Her words take a few moments to really marinate in the air. I'm staring— slightly teary eyed at Grayson, and he's staring at me with his jaw tight. I feel ashamed. I don't think what happened was her fault. She is nothing more than a victim in this situation.

Just like me.

authors note

n/a

word count: 3368 words