Chapter 89: My Dark Prince: Chapter 88

The woman had no clue how little I thought of her.

I didn’t hate Philomena Auer. No, that would require feeling something for her other than incredulity. Someone who would abandon their own flesh and blood didn’t deserve real estate in my brain.

Around us, people buzzed with weekend energy. Dogs lapped up water from ceramic bowls, their owners sipped on paw-shaped mugs, and servers zigzagged from table to table. The clinking cups and hum of conversations faded into the background as I studied the woman who once carried me in her womb.

She pasted on a charming smile, a fake Birkin bag perched in her lap. The pearls choking her neck lacked the luster of their genuine counterparts, and she’d stitched up the hole in her old Chanel blazer with miscolored threads.

The irony of raising me in an environment where appearances mattered was that I could see straight through hers.

Philomena gave me the stink eye. She still didn’t get it. “You know we’ve been slumming it up at a Motel 6 to stay in the area.”

I mustered a tight smile. “You get what you can pay for.”

“I have a daughter who lives in a mansion.”

“No. You had a daughter you turned your back on. That daughter ‘slummed it up’ in tiny broom closets in shitty apartment buildings she needed to clean every week to afford rent. Now all you have is a husband, who hates you because you cheated on him and hates me because I’m living proof.” I sat back, eyeing her with mild curiosity. “Which brings me to the subject at hand …”

The waitress delivered our drinks – a latte for me and an iced Americano with no milk and sugar for Philomena. Another reminder of the fact that she was a psychopath.

I glanced behind her shoulder at the display window. Oliver sat in the car, waiting for me, an iPad propped between his palms. This morning had made it obvious that he didn’t remember much of last night.

I’d have to break up with him as soon as possible. He kept talking about our future as if we could happen, offering up a ridiculous sum of money I still had no intention of forking over to my mother. Neither of them knew that, but they would. Soon.

Philomena’s jaw jerked forward, signaling at the bag I’d brought. “Show me the money, first.”

I reached for my worn-out JanSport, partially unzipped it, and flashed the stacks of cash inside. “It’s all here.”

She yanked it out of my fists and sifted through the crisp notes. “You can never be too sure.”

“If only you had that energy when you cheated on Jason with whoever-the-heck my father is and used protection, we wouldn’t be here.”

Philomena arranged the stacks back into the backpack, regarding me with a frown.

Before she could dine and dash, I snatched the bag back, clutching it to my belly. “Information first.”

“But—”

“You can never be too sure,” I sing-songed in her same tone.

“Fine.” The smugness fled her face, now that she had to face her past sins. “After our honeymoon, Jason’s first international job put him in London. Cameron was the doorman in our Shoreditch building.”

“Cameron?” I cocked my head sideways. “You called him Cooper.”

“No, no.” My mother shook her head. “His last name is Cooper. That’s what everyone called him.”

“You had an affair with him?”

“Affair is such a big word.” She rolled her eyes like a child, spearing the ice in her Americano with a straw. “Jason worked like a madman, pulling seventy-hour weeks. I was lonely. I didn’t know anyone in London. We couldn’t conceive despite our efforts and fought all the time. All he cared about was work.”

Her words stabbed me one by one – not because I cared about her relationship with Jason but because I saw my own fears reflected before me.

Work would whisk me away from city to city, country to country. I endured long, impossible hours on set, never settling down. No relationship could survive that. My own parents’ hadn’t, and my mother followed Jason everywhere. Oliver didn’t share that luxury.

I swallowed my bile. “None of these are valid reasons to cheat.”

She ignored me. “Cooper was nice and warm. He’d bring me cookies from my favorite bakery to brighten my day. He made me laugh with stupid jokes. Once, he gave me tickets to a premier league game. It was easy to fall into his trap when he was the only one giving me attention in that godforsaken city.”

“Still not valid reasons.”

Her nostrils flared. She peered down at her fingers, which twisted in her lap. “I wanted to get pregnant. I wanted to become a mother, badly. And I thought, if I could tell Jason the baby was his, I could get away with it.”

I stared at her, dumbfounded. Did she … intentionally sleep with Cooper to get pregnant?

“We only did it once. But once was enough. Luckily, Jason and I relocated back to New York during my pregnancy. When you came out …” She closed her eyes, sighing heavily. “It was obvious you weren’t Jason’s. Every single day that passed cemented it more and more. You barely looked related to me.”

“Do I …” I gripped my coffee mug tighter. “Do I look like Cooper?”

She stared me right in the eyes as she said, “You look just like your father.”

At her words, I curled my toes inward, motioning for her to continue.

“Jason was suspicious from day one – before we even took you home from the hospital. He didn’t confront me until your third birthday. We lived in Dubai at that point.”

I didn’t care about how Jason found out. My mind latched on to a huge detail. “You took me away from Cooper?”

“It was too risky for me to let him see you. After we returned from New York, Cameron stuck around as a doorman just to get a glimpse of you every morning when I pushed you in your stroller.”

“I’m his daughter. He wanted me. He actually wanted me. How could you?”

“I’ll tell you what I told Cameron before we left for Dubai.” She tipped her chin up, still defiant. “It would be selfish of him to break up a family, just so he could have you in his life. Jason took good care of us financially in ways Cameron never could. He was a nineteen-year-old with a shitty job and no savings.”

“I don’t care about money. I’d rather have a lot of love than a lot of cash.”

“Says the girl marrying one of the richest men in the world.”

“There is more to life than money, Philomena.”

“Well, Cameron didn’t agree with that. He stepped out of my way when I pointed out the better life Jason could provide for you. You see, Cameron came from a rich family that lost everything when his father drove their business into the ground. He knew what it was like to be dealt a bad hand and didn’t want it for you.”

“I was dealt an awful hand,” I pointed out. “I was dealt you.”

“You know.” She grabbed her coffee, slurped through the straw, then slammed it back on the table between us. “You are not doing yourself any favors with this attitude.”

I was so proud of myself for not strangling her. “Please, continue.”

“Jason demanded a paternity test. He was livid. I was scared. I had to come clean. I told him you were Cameron’s. He got mad. Really mad.”

I swallowed hard. “He didn’t want me.”

“No, he did.” Philomena’s lips flattened. “He did accept you. He did want you. He never was a doting father – that’s just his personality. He didn’t blame you for what happened. I was the one he was mad at.”

She said it as if she blamed me for that. “No matter how much I begged, pleaded, and apologized, he never forgave me. He didn’t divorce me, either. He liked having a daughter. Liked that I waited for him every evening with a homecooked meal in my lingerie. But he punished me in other ways. He took lovers. Many of them. Paraded them in front of me. He teased me about them in front of our friends, humiliating me. He slept in another room, but he still came to me on occasion to have sex …”

She buried her face in her hands, shaking her head. “He did it cleverly. The way he conquered and divided the house. He made me resent you, because he was actually nice to you, so I turned him against you.”

I blinked, struggling to digest the last sentence. “You turned him against your own toddler child?”

“Don’t you dare judge me.” She jabbed a finger at me. “I did what I had to do. You were a child. Healthy, wealthy, and beautiful. I knew you would find your way. Jason was my only chance at happiness. My only shot.”

“Jason didn’t have to play along with you. He chose to hate me.”

“I was sick and tired of caring for a child that stole all of my own husband’s attention. Jason started to notice that when we hired a full-time nanny, he liked me better. So, avoiding you fixed our relationship.”

“How romantic …” I didn’t care to hear about any of this. I’d come for one thing. “Where does Cameron live now?”

“Cameron?” She arched an eyebrow, a ghost of a smile tugging at one corner of her mouth. “Cameron Cooper is dead, honey.”

My heart tumbled all the way down to my feet. Tore a hole straight through the earth and almost dragged me down with it. I struggled to regain my breath.

“Has been for about, oh, let’s see, five years, I suppose?” Philomena checked her nails, chuckling to herself. “How time flies. I remember his sister called me when we were still in Argentina to tell me. Took his own life. Horrifying, actually.”

A whimper slipped past my lips. The only flash of vulnerability I’d given her today, and I hated myself for it. A self-satisfied beam plastered on her face. This was payback. For rejecting her. For not wanting her to be a part of my life. Of my wedding.

And it worked.

“You know …” She pouted. “He never truly got over the fact that you two didn’t have a relationship. He tried looking for you. Sending letters. Calling. I blocked him every single time. Got rid of the letters. Changed numbers so he couldn’t find us. The party at the chateau was the last straw. I put you in boarding school, where he couldn’t find you. And it worked.”

My entire body shook. I clenched the edge of the counter. If I let go, I’d lunge across the table and hurt her. My self-control dwindled by the second.

I could’ve had a father.

I could’ve had a father.

I could’ve felt unconditional love. I could’ve had a father who asked me how my day was, who walked me down the aisle, who taught me how to break generational curses before I started my own.

She robbed me of that.

I stood up, only for my knees to buckle. The backpack tumbled toward the tiles. A hand shot out to catch it, followed by another looping around my waist.

Oliver.

Only he could blanket me with peace in a moment like this. I let him hold me up, lost for words for the first time. After all, no words could possibly describe the misery she’d inflected on me.

Oliver’s eyes sharpened into two pointy daggers, drilling holes into my mother and pinning her into place. “You’re done.”

She tried and failed to close her gaping mouth. “But—”

“And I don’t mean with this conversation. I mean with life. This is the last time you will ever speak to my wife. I will eviscerate whatever scraps of a life you’ve managed to salvage. Being poor will be the least of your problems.”

“You don’t even know what I said,” she protested.

“And I don’t fucking care. The second you made the woman I love cry was the second you signed your death warrant. Hope you’re a fan of orange, Philomena, because it’s about to be the only color you’ll wear for the rest of your miserable life.”

Philomena’s eyes stared back at him like two giant saucers.

“Oh.” He hiked the backpack stuffed with money over his shoulder. “And you don’t deserve this.”

That sprang her into action. “Hey. You can’t take that back.”

“I can, and I am. No contract, no fucking money. Hound me with lawyers, baby. Let’s see who wins.”

He collected my hand with more gentleness than needed, as if it were something precious, holding it in his sweater pocket like he wanted to tuck me inside with it and shield me from the world.

“Don’t worry, Philomena, I’ll be sure to send you a video of me burning all that cash in a bonfire, just to throw some salt into the open wound. Have a shitty life.”

She chased us to the exit, latching onto the JanSport by its flimsy straps. “That’s illegal.”

“So are fraud, theft, and Ponzi schemes. I’m sure the authorities would love to see all the evidence I’ve gathered.” Ollie jerked the backpack away from her frail fingers as the waitress chased us down with the bill. “Better cash in that AARP discount, Philomena. You’re gonna need it.”