Page 39 of The Stipulation
“I know. I just. I panicked. I knew he’d come looking for you when you were eighteen, and I knew he’d tell you how I had kept him away for all of those years. I was afraid you’d start to hate me. And I was afraid for you going into that life.”
“He wasn’t abusive to you, was he?”
She sniffs. “No. He wasn’t abusive, Jo.”
“And you had no reason to think he would hurt me.”
She takes a deep breath. “No. I didn’t think he would hurt you. But I just … I wanted to shield you from the public eye, from being drawn into a world that I couldn’t let you be part of. I thought it was the only way to keep you safe.”
I close my eyes, a mixture of anger and understanding roiling inside of me. I still hated the fact that she kept me away from my father, but for the first time, she has admitted it was because she was scared that she would lose me, and I can’t help but soften at that. I guess she did it out of a kind of fearful, possessive love.
“You lied to me all my life,” I whisper. “What did you expect to happen when I found out the truth?”
“I hoped you never would,” she admits, her voice breaking again. “And I’m sorry. I only ever wanted to do what was best for you, for both of us. I see now that I was selfish. I didn’t give you the chance to know your father, and that was wrong of me, but it was all out of love.”
My throat tightens at her tears, the sincerity in her voice.
“Mum, please don’t cry,” I say gently. I have always hated to see her cry, and to know I am the one who caused it this time hurts me almost as much as her betrayal does.
“I’m still angry, but I get why you did it,” I say softly. “I will forgive you, I promise. I just need time to process everything.”
There’s a pause on the line, the kind that hums with the weight of unspoken emotions.
“Thank you, Jo. I love you and I always will,” she murmurs, and I can hear the relief in her voice.
We speak a little longer about things that are less fraught. She asks me about the house, my work on the collection. I tell her about everything except the fake painting. Not once does she tell me I should come home or say I shouldn’t be here, although when I tell her I am going to be here for a year, she makes a little mewling sound of disappointment and sadness. I reassure her it’s only because of the collection. The call ends on a warmernote than any of our previous ones. When I hang up, a strange lightness settles over me, even as the enormity of the inheritance and the stipulations of the will still loom ahead.
For the first time in weeks, I feel like I’ve taken a small step towards understanding my mum’s choices. And by doing so, maybe, just maybe, I’ve taken a few steps towards inner peace.
Chapter
Nineteen
JO
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NlgmH5q9uNk
-voyage, voyage-
The door to the vault opens so suddenly, that I nearly drop the delicate brush in my hand.
“What the hell?” I exclaim.
“Jo!” Axel practically shouts, ignoring my startled exclamation, His voice cuts through the calm. He’s out of breath, his eyes sharp and focused. “I’ve got information.”
I put down my tools, my anger forgotten, and excitement swirls inside of me.
“Information? About what?” I ask, although it has to be about the painting.
He strides over towards my workstation, closing the distance between us faster than I can react. His dark hair is mussed slightly at the sides, and the black t-shirt he is wearing, hissignature look when he’s not in his office wear, clings to him in a way that makes my stomach do a quick flip. I shake the longing away.
“The painting?” I ask cautiously.
He nods. “Bingo. The painting. The real one. I found out who has it, or at least who sold it last year. There’s a dealer. He’s shady, well-connected, but not someone you’d stumble across in polite circles. He’s the one who facilitated the sale of the painting to an anonymous buyer. If anyone knows for sure who stole it, it’s him.”
“Where is he?” I ask, my pulse quickening.
“Paris.”
