C23, PT. 3

“It was a long time ago.”

Colette looked cool and collected. How did her sister keep it all in? How did she have the strength to do business with Warren and sit across from him at dinner after what he’d done to her? “Ariana?”

Colette shook her head. “She doesn’t know. I made him promise not to touch either of you. I did my best to keep him away from others, too, when I could.”

Her mind provided graphic images that made her clap a hand over her mouth as her stomach heaved.

“Jasmine?”

She couldn’t answer because she was going to be sick, and she couldn’t do it in this beautiful room or the corridor lined with priceless artwork. She ran out of the library and down the hallway. Thankfully, the crowd in front of the bathrooms had dispersed. She was in too much of a hurry to read which bathroom was for women. She shouldered through the door on the right and felt a flash of relief when she saw three women congregated in front of the vanity. They turned when she barged in and gasped when she slammed into one of two stalls, fell to her knees, and vomited. The twelve-course meal and champagne came up, making her gag. There was a cacophony of voices before Colette’s rose above everyone else’s. Clammy hands moved over her before Colette gathered her hair and pulled it back.

“Is she pregnant?” she heard an interested voice say. “Is that why they married?”

“Out!” Colette ordered.

“Well, I never,” a huffy voice said before the door slammed and silence fell, allowing Jasmine to be sick in peace.

“I’m sorry.”

Colette’s voice was thick with tears.

“Why are you apologizing?” she said hoarsely as she waited for her stomach to stop pitching and rolling.

“I shouldn’t have blurted it out like that. I should have confronted him somewhere else.”

“Stop worrying about everyone else and think of yourself,” she groaned before she retched again.

When she finished, Colette handed her a wad of toilet paper to wipe her mouth. She sat on the floor until her head stopped spinning. She wished she had the luxury of falling apart, but this ordeal was far from over. She had to get a grip.

Colette helped her to the marble vanity decorated with red and white roses, a pyramid of washcloths, and baskets full of just the types of amenities she needed. As she swished mouthwash, Colette wet a towel and tried to clean the curls that she hadn’t pulled back in time. When she looked in the mirror to assess the damage, she closed her eyes in defeat.

“I can fix it. Here.”

Colette reached into her clutch and pulled out makeup wipes, mascara, and lipstick. She kept her eyes lowered to her sister’s cleavage as Colette fussed over her like the older sister she never had. Colette’s hands were shaking like crazy. They silently agreed that applying mascara wasn’t worth the risk.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered.

Colette averted her face. “I can’t do this.”

She tried to rein in her rioting emotions for both their sakes. “How did you find us?”

“I was keeping an eye on Warren. I usually do. I saw him go down the hallway. When he didn’t return, I followed. I didn’t know you were in there until I was standing outside and caught the last of what he was saying.” Colette searched her face. “About Elena…”

“Is it true?”

Colette hesitated before she murmured, “Does it matter?”

Which meant yes. She gripped the vanity as the strength went out of her legs. “Dad gave her money to abort me?”

Colette gripped her arm. “Dad loved you.”

You really are your mother’s daughter. Dad threw that in her face when he found out about the affair. She hadn’t realized the implication at the time, but… She pressed a hand against her stomach and wondered if she was going to be sick again. Roth called her a whore. Was it because she slept with other men, or because he knew that was in her blood? Like mother, like daughter. She hadn’t even known and followed in Elena’s footsteps anyway…

There was no doubt in her mind that Roth had a file on Elena Rogan. He made it his business to know the ins and outs of her family. Did he know that her mother wasn’t a personal assistant, but a glorified whore that her dad and his cronies passed around? That her father paid her mother not to have her? Of course, he did. She was the last to know, as usual. Searing pain ripped through her chest. Did he get the vasectomy because he thought she might try to trap him, like her mother had Maximus?

“Minnie.” Colette stared at her with concerned eyes. “That’s all in the past. It doesn’t matter.”

Right. It didn’t matter. That was then, this was now. Even as she told herself that, her heart felt as if it was being stabbed over and over. Blood was spurting everywhere, just like her thoughts and emotions. She desperately tried to contain it like Colette. She should be comforting her sister, who just confronted her lifelong abuser. No one would know it, though. Colette’s face was still as a glassy lake. Only her eyes showed her inner turmoil. Why couldn’t she turn off her emotions like that? Why was she so weak?

“Should I get Roth?” Colette asked.

“No!” When Colette frowned, she fixed a pained smile on her face. “I’m fine.”

“You’re not.”

“Neither are you.”

To her surprise, Colette nodded and brushed a hand against her temple as if she had the beginnings of a migraine. “I’ll find Lyle and tell him we need to go. You should, too.”

“Roth has business…”

Colette’s expression hardened. “I think he can make an exception.” When she shook her head, Colette’s tone changed. “Why not?”

Her sister was too flustered to wonder why she was in the library to begin with.

“Do you want to come home with us?” Colette offered.

It was tempting. She wasn’t sure she would be able to conduct herself normally after her world imploded, but it would cause a stir if she left Roth behind. “No, I’ll find him.”

“And leave,” Colette insisted. “He’ll understand.”

He wouldn’t, but she cast her sister a bracing smile and gave her a little push. “Go.”

**This is a raw draft of Bitter Confessions. Please do not share or distribute.

Copyright © 2024 Mia Knight. All Rights Reserved.