Chapter 79 79
Kate's POV
We hadn’t been able to attend Mrs. Martins’ funeral. Everything had happened so fast, so brutally: a call in the middle of the night, anaphylactic shock, the death certificate issued in less than twenty-four hours.
Andrew had stayed silent during the flight, staring out the window as if the sky could give him back the lost chance. I watched him from the corner of my eye.
“She always treated me like a son,” he said suddenly, breaking the silence as we were already rolling down the runway. “She gave me that watch when I turned thirty. She said a man needs something to remind him of the time that doesn’t come back. And now… I couldn’t even say goodbye.”
I nodded, clutching my bag against my lap. Mrs. Martins had been an imposing woman, the kind who filled a room without effort. But she had also been kind to me, in her distant, calculating way. She had invited me to dinner at the mansion more than once, always with a glass of wine in her hand and a smile that seemed to weigh every word that came out of my mouth. I never knew whether she approved of me or simply tolerated me because I was Andrew’s wife.
“Your support will be very good for Elliot right now,” Andrew continued, turning toward me. “He’s alone now. Completely alone.”
I looked at him steadily. There was something in his tone that made my skin crawl.
“Alone?” I asked, lowering my voice even though no one else could hear us.
Andrew sighed, as if I were the one who didn’t understand the obvious.
“Elliot needs a refuge, Kate. Someone he can trust. And we… well, we need something too. The company is going to change hands. There will be important decisions, alliances to rebuild. If we’re close to him now, while he’s vulnerable, we can help him. And he can help us.”
I felt a knot in my stomach.
“We can’t profit from a tragedy, Andrew.”
He smiled—that smile of his that always seemed to know more than it said.
“Any opportunity is a good one, love. Life doesn’t wait for things to be pretty before it moves. Elliot is going to need trusted people. You can be that emotional refuge. I’ll handle the business side. It’s only logical.”
I stayed quiet for the rest of the flight. Andrew’s words echoed in my head like an irritating refrain.
Refuge.
Help.
Opportunity.
Each one sounded dirtier than the last. I didn’t want to be anyone’s calculated comfort. Much less Elliot’s… it could confuse everything. The last thing I wanted was to be near him… because I was terrified he would insist on the paternity test again, or that, in his grief, he would decide to tell Andrew everything.
According to the rumors, he had inherited it all. Absolutely everything.
I didn’t want Andrew to take advantage of that, because Elliot would also take advantage of our closeness.
We took a taxi from the airport.
Andrew drummed his fingers on his knee, impatient. I looked out the window, watching the elegant houses pass by, the perfectly manicured gardens, the world Mrs. Martins had ruled until her last day.
“You look beautiful,” he said. “Did you stay in touch with Elliot after he left Lisbon?”
“No. Why?”
“Because now is not the time to push him away. He’s always been a special student to you. It’s time to remind him of that.”
My poor husband had no idea what he was asking. Where Andrew saw a business opportunity, Elliot saw an opportunity with me.
When we arrived, the gate opened automatically. A young maid in a gray uniform greeted us at the main entrance. Her face was serious, her eyes red.
“Mr. Elliot is upstairs,” she said. “I’ll let him know. Please come in.”
She led us to the main living room. Everything was exactly the same as the last time I had been there: the antique furniture, the expensive paintings, the scent of polished wood and fresh flowers. But now there was an emptiness in the air, as if the house had lost its center of gravity.
Fifteen minutes passed. Andrew paced back and forth, checking his watch every few seconds. I sat on the edge of a sofa, my hands clasped tightly so they wouldn’t shake.
“Maybe this isn’t a good time,” I whispered when the maid still hadn’t returned. “We should leave and come back another day.”
Andrew shook his head.
“We wait. He needs to see us. He needs to know we’re here.”
Then we heard a noise on the upper floor. Slow footsteps descending the stairs. Andrew straightened immediately, composing the perfect expression of condolence.
Elliot appeared in the doorway.
My heart began to pound hard in my chest, thinking about how hurt he must be to have lost his mother that way.
Had he cried a lot? Had anyone comforted him? Did he have anyone to lean on? Where was Emma?