Page 7 of Shattered Crown
My mother studied me. I kept my face neutral. "Bring her to the birthday dinner," she said. "Your grandmother asks about her constantly. And Evie shouldn't spend so much time alone in that big house with only staff for company."
"She's not alone. I'm there."
"You're there between the hours of nine p.m. and eight a.m., assuming no emergencies. A girl her age needs more than that, Sebastian."
I didn't answer. What could I say? She was right. She was always right about the ways I was failing.
"Have you considered…" She stopped herself. Shook her head. "Never mind."
"Considered what?"
"It's not my place."
"Mother." I gave her a look that saiddrop it.
My mother always came to my office with a script. First, she’ll start with an idle conversation, get to what she really wanted, ask about Evie, then talk about her. She’d been particularly devastated about the divorce. I couldn’t understand why, seeing as I was the one who’d married Caroline.
She’d loved Caroline just as much as she loved Isabelle. Maybe that was why my mother couldn’t understand why Caroline didn’t love us back.
She shook her head. “Never mind. Thank you for saving Xavier again. I’ll have that talk with him, I promise.” She stood before I could respond. Smoothed her dress. Checked her reflection in the window. "I'll see you on the twenty-third. Don't be late this time." She paused at the door and looked back. "And Sebastian? Get some sleep. You really do look terrible."
Then she was gone, and I was alone with the silence. I stood. I walked to the window. Pressed my palm flat against the glass. I hadn't thought about her in weeks. Months, maybe. I'd gotten good at not thinking about her, shoving the memories into a box, locking the box, burying it somewhere I didn't have to look.
But now my mother had gone and dug it up, and I could see it all again. The conference room, the lawyers, the stack of papers pushed across the table with something close to relief in her eyes.
"She'll be better off with you," Caroline had said. "I'm not built for this, Sebastian. You know I'm not."
I'd wanted to argue. I had a lot to say. For example,“What kind of mother walks away from her three-year-old daughter?”or“Evie needs her mother, not me.”I’d briefly considered begging, but when Caroline glanced at me with that detached look in her eyes, I knew there was nothing I could say that would convince her to stay.
In the end, I'd just signed on my dotted lines and watched her leave.
She'd sent a birthday card last year. It was store-bought. She hadn’t even bothered to write a note. The signature looked rushed, like even that small effort was too much to ask. Evie had stared at it for a long moment, then she'd left it on the kitchen counter and gone to her room without a word.
I found it in the trash the next morning.
My phone buzzed. Not the work line, my personal cell. I was instantly alarmed. Only a handful of people had that number. I grabbed the device from my desk and glanced at the screen. I frowned. Why was Evie’s school calling? Did something happen?
I answered immediately.
"Mr. Dubois? This is Frank from Dr. Warren's office. I'm calling about your daughter."
My hand tightened on the phone. "What happened?"
"There's been an incident during one of her classes. Evie sustained a minor injury. She's with our nurse now, and she's perfectly fine, but protocol requires parental notification. Given the circumstances, Dr. Warren feels it would be best if you could come to the school in person."
I was already moving. I grabbed my jacket from the back of my chair, my keys from the drawer. My legs carried me to the door. I pulled it open. "What circumstances?"
"There was a physical altercation with another student. We're still gathering details, but…"
"I'm on my way." I hung up. Strode through the outer office, past Margaret's startled face. "Cancel my afternoon. All of it."
"Mr. Dubois, you have the Henderson call at three…"
"Cancel it."
Evie in a physical altercation? She’d never fought a day in her life. That doesn’t sound right. I needed to see her and get the real story. Yet, I had a guess as to what really happened. The elevator doors slid open.
Someone had put their hands on my daughter. I didn’t know the real extent of it, but I had a feeling Evie wasn’t happy at school. She’d fully withdrawn this past year and wouldn’t talk to me about anything. And now, someone had hurt her, and I hadn't been there, and I was never there, and…
