It galls me to give him any bit of Sylvie by calling her “our” little girl, as if she belongs in some way to the Mardraggons. But I need him to tell me what the fuck happened.

  “I know you tipped the police,” I say, waiting to see what he does. Those detectives didn’t tell me a damn thing, but he doesn’t know that. “How did you know it was your dad?”

  Gabe rubs at his temple, sighing. He looks over his shoulder as if expecting someone to walk up behind him—presumably his mother—and steps out onto the flat porch. I take a step back as he pulls the door closed. “It was always expected that if Alaine died, her shares would go back to the main Mardraggon trust to manage for Sylvie. When my dad found out that Alaine’s eighty percent went to Sylvie directly with you as a co-trustee, he wasn’t happy.”

  “I don’t imagine he would be. It’s why he sent you to buy me out.”

  Gabe nods. “Yeah… that’s how he wanted to handle it. But when you declined, and I told him… he made a comment that I thought was just a joke in poor taste. He said something like, ‘It would be cheaper to hire a hitman and take you out.’”

  “And you didn’t think to tell me?” I snarl, outraged that he would consider that a joke. “Or go to the police?”

  Gabe’s expression darkens. “I didn’t give it any consideration because it was all hot air. It wouldn’t have mattered if he murdered you, the shares still belong to Sylvie and my dad knew that. He was just posturing.”

  “Glad you’re okay gambling with someone’s life,” I mutter.

  “I never thought Sylvie would be at risk though,” he whispers, his voice clogged with emotion. “Never, ever thought he’d hurt that child just to get those shares.”

  And yes, it hits me why Lionel would make the play for her. The trust says that if Sylvie dies before she turns twenty-one and without any legal heirs, the shares will revert to the main Mardraggon trust. Lionel didn’t need to kill me—he needed to kill Sylvie.

  I cannot even comprehend it. It makes no sense on a human scale. “It’s just money,” I say.

  “It’s never just money to Lionel Mardraggon, Ethan.” Gabe’s voice is acidic, his laugh cold. “It’s being the best, making the most, having power. That winery is worth way too much money. Alaine did such a good job with it, she put Sylvie’s life at risk because someone with my father’s ambition, coupled with his lack of conscience, sealed her fate.”

  “So, you suspected he drugged her with penicillin?” I ask incredulously. Because that’s a big leap to make.

  Gabe shakes his head. “No. It just never occurred to me that he would do something like that. I happened to be in his office yesterday after I came home from the hospital to grab an investment portfolio he wanted me to go over. Figured I’d take it back to the hospital while we waited to see how Sylvie was. Just as I was walking out, I saw a crumpled piece of paper on the floor near the wastebasket. I picked it up to throw it away, but something caught my eye. It looked like a prescription… the kind doctors write on a square pad. I smoothed it out and saw it was from a doctor in Louisville. Someone had started to write a medication on it and then scribbled through it before finishing.”

  “Let me guess… it was for penicillin.”

  “The first three letters were P-E-N. And I knew right then what it was for. I didn’t want to believe he could do something like that, and after all, he didn’t complete the prescription. He threw it away, so perhaps he’d had a change of heart. But I had to be sure, so I went through his desk. Buried deep in the back of the top drawer, I found the actual pad of blank prescriptions. I’m not sure how he got them, but I’m assuming he paid that doctor for the pad. I’m sure he would’ve thrown a pretty penny to get it. And I could see the indentations on the top piece where he’d written out the entire prescription for it. It was just three days ago.”

  “Jesus fuck,” I rasp, feeling nauseated. “And I’m the one who gave her permission to stay the night here. He had access to her.”

  The guilt is oppressive and I want to vomit.

  After I murder Lionel Mardraggon.

  “I called the police right then and there. Didn’t even hesitate.”

  That shakes me out of my funk and my gaze lifts to his. He might not have hesitated, but he looks tortured.

  My tone is soft, gracious. “You did the right thing, Gabe.”

  He nods ever so slightly. He looks broken.

  I can’t say I’m sorry, but I keep that to myself. They deserve every bit of misery heaped upon them, although I’m slightly empathetic to his plight. “Thank you, Gabe.”

  His expression turns ice cold, his tone no longer defeated. A chill runs up my spine when he says, “Don’t thank me. I hate your family now more than ever. If you’d have kept your fucking hands off my sister, none of this would have happened.”

  He’s not wrong about that but I feel compelled to point out, “And you wouldn’t have Sylvie.”

  “And my dad wouldn’t be going to prison for the rest of his life,” he hisses.

  I stare at Gabe, wondering where his loyalties really lie… with Sylvie or his father. Maybe it was a burst of conscience that compelled him to go to the police, but right now he’s more livid over his father going to jail than acknowledging the beauty of a niece who I know he loves.

  Or maybe he’ll end up resenting her the way he does me.

  If that’s even a slight possibility, I don’t know that I can trust Gabe around Sylvie.

  Without another word, I nod at him and spin on my foot. I head to my truck and pull out of the driveway without a backward glance.

  CHAPTER 25

  Marcie

  I pull aside the sheer curtains on the living room window and look out at the street, willing Ethan’s truck to come into view.

  “Marcie, please tell me what’s going on,” Sylvie says, not for the first time since I brought her to my house. She was still upstairs showering when Ethan walked into their kitchen with such a look of torture on his face, I thought someone had died.

  He then proceeded to tell me and his mom what was going on in as succinct a way as possible without opening the door for more questions. He turned to me and said, “My attorney is on the way as well as the crime technicians from the sheriff’s department. Can you take Sylvie to your house? I don’t want her here while they’re searching.”

  “Of course,” I replied without hesitation. “What are we going to tell her?”

  Ethan cursed, paced around the kitchen and looked helplessly at his mom for advice. She shook her head.

  He then looked to me. “You know kids best.”

  I’m not sure if that’s accurate but he needed guidance. “She eventually needs to know the truth, but I think it would be too upsetting for her to know the police are searching your house, even if they suspect Lionel. I think it would make her feel very insecure. My suggestion is you just tell her something serious has happened, that everyone in the family is safe and okay and she’s completely safe, but we need to hang out at my house for a little bit. Promise her she’ll get the full truth later today.”

  Ethan nodded effusively, not because it was the best plan but because he couldn’t confidently come up with his own. I have no clue if it’s right or not, but we enacted it. He went up to talk to his daughter and we were back downstairs within ten minutes, Sylvie with her backpack over her shoulder and her hair still damp from her shower.

  She looked neither frightened nor affronted that she was being asked to leave without any real knowledge as to why. Ethan hugged her and said, “Thank you for trusting me on this. We’ll talk later today and I’ll tell you everything.”

  And she was okay with that.

  For about two hours. And then she started pelting me with questions.

  “What’s going on?”

  “Why did I really have to leave?”

  “Is my dad okay?”

  “Is everyone okay?”

  “Am I in trouble?

  “Will I have to go back to the Mardraggons?”

  The one that got me the most, and it came out of left field, “Is my dad sick like my mom? Is that why you won’t tell me anything?”

  I was able to reassure her on many of her questions, a constant reiteration that her dad and her family are safe, healthy and not in any trouble. I told her that someone her dad knew was in trouble though and he had to work on that but would tell her later what’s going on.

  That led to more questions, trying to guess who was in trouble and her first concern, “Is it Uncle Gabe?”

  She was hitting too close to the truth and I couldn’t lie to her, and I didn’t want to have to play this game with her all day. So she got my stern principal voice, even though I hated to do it. “Sylvie… I cannot tell you anything. That is for your dad to do and you’re going to have to wait and trust that we’re doing the best thing for you. Please stop trying to get information from me.”

  “I’m sorry,” she immediately said, head ducked in contrition.

  I smiled, pulled her into a hug and told her it would all be okay.

  She lasted another half hour before she started pestering me again and it’s been a constant battle with her asking and me denying.

  Movement catches my eye and my sigh of relief is audible. Ethan’s truck pulls up to the curb. “Your dad is here.”

  Sylvie doesn’t wait, turning to bolt for the door. I watch from the window as she runs out to meet him. For someone who just got out of the hospital this morning, she’s quite spry when she catapults herself into his arms and he carries her the rest of the way into my house.

  I meet them in the small foyer, his eyes meeting mine over the top of Sylvie’s head and I can’t read all the emotion warring within their fern-colored depths.

  “Where were you?” Sylvie demands, lifting her head from Ethan’s shoulder. “What’s going on?”

  Ethan sets his daughter on the floor. “Let’s sit down in the living room.”

  “I’ll just…” I throw my thumb toward the kitchen. “I’ll be in there.”

  “No,” Ethan says, taking my hand. “Come sit with us.”

  The tenderness mixed with the need to have me there for support nearly buckles my knees. Ethan and I have grown so close these last several weeks, our intimacy only fortifying our growing bond. But to know that he needs me causes my heart to surrender to him completely.

  In the living room, we all sit on the couch, Sylvie in between me and Ethan. She stares at her father, waiting for him to deliver what she’s clearly pegged as bad news.

  Ethan takes her hand, holds it with both of his. “Two detectives from the sheriff’s department came to the house this morning.” He glances at me and I nod my encouragement. “They believe that someone intentionally made you sick.”

  Sylvie’s face screws up with confusion. “Intentionally? What does that mean?”

  “It means that someone meant to hurt you. They did it on purpose. Apparently, you were dosed with penicillin and you experienced a severe allergic reaction.”

  The kid is savvy and knows the dangers of her allergy. She knows it can be fatal and while she doesn’t remember much of her ordeal, she’s comprehending that someone weaponized it. I see the question coming before she asks it of her father. “Who would do that?”

  My heart clenches and Ethan swallows hard. There was a day I know he would have relished throwing Lionel under the bus, gladly telling Sylvie how rotten he was and therefore she should love the Blackburns and not the Mardraggons. The more I’ve learned of this bitter feud, the more appreciation I have for how deep it runs, even in these modern times.

  But Ethan is a man now driven by the love of a daughter, and he knows this will hurt her. It’s the last thing in the world he’d ever want to do because it’s an act of betrayal that could destroy her.

  It humbles me, the courage it takes. “The police believe it was Lionel.”

  Sylvie’s face crumples. Tears pool and shine through her lashes. She shakes her head and tries to tug her hand away from Ethan. “No. No, he wouldn’t do that. Why would you even think that?”

  “I don’t know what to think, baby,” her dad explains softly. “I’m only reporting what the police think. They’re questioning Lionel, but they have evidence your uncle Gabe found that points to him being the one who did it. Gabe turned it over to the police.”

  “Uncle Gabe?” she asks, as if she’s never heard of the man. I can’t even begin to imagine how confusing this is.

  I wait for her to ask if Gabe or Rosemund are complicit because that’s been lurking in the back of my mind. I wonder what Ethan thinks of that. Common sense tells me Gabe is innocent since he turned his dad in, and having his dad arrested in no way benefits Gabe himself. I have no clue about Rosemund, but it’s not up to me to figure that out. It’s for the police.

  “What’s going to happen?” Sylvie asks, glancing at me briefly before turning her attention back to her dad.

  Ethan shakes his head, sadness etched on the planes of his face. “I honestly don’t know. If the police believe they have a strong case against Lionel, they’ll arrest him.”

  “Arrest him for what?” she demands, and her dilemma is as clear as it is heartbreaking. She wants to know exactly what Lionel was trying to do and she’s afraid to come out and ask it.

  It’s a question Ethan can’t answer. “I don’t know that either, Sylvie. I don’t know what laws he might have broken.”

  “But why?” she persists, tears flowing freely down her face. “Why give me penicillin? He knew it could kill me.”

  And there it is… the horrific bottom line. Sylvie sobs and her father pulls her into his chest, stroking her hair. My heart feels like it’s been crushed in a vise grip and I reach out to place my hand on Sylvie’s back. It’s all I can do for now, but I want her to know she’s got two people in this room who will get her through this.

  “Why would he want to kill me?” she wails, her entire body shaking.

  Ethan stares at me in panic, unable to provide solace to his heartbroken child. He could go into details about the trust and how it would revert to the Mardraggon family if she died before she was twenty-one, but we both talked about how far to go with that information. While Ethan wants to be transparent to prepare Sylvie for dark days ahead, we talked in the kitchen before she came down from her shower. My advice was to keep it limited at this time so she isn’t overwhelmed.

  This is a subject far too important for me, Ethan or any of the Blackburns to shoulder with her. I shot out dozens of texts to teachers and other principals in the area, pulling any strings I could to find a therapist for Sylvie. While she’s acclimated well the last few weeks to her new circumstances, this will test the child’s resilience and confidence. I told Ethan I’d find her someone and by God, I will.

  “Sylvie,” I say softly. She doesn’t move from Ethan’s embrace but turns her head on his chest to stare back at me. “We may never understand Lionel’s intentions. All we can do is wait to see what the police figure out. The important thing to understand is that you are safe.”

  “I’ll never let anything bad happen to you ever again,” Ethan vows, and I hear the misery in his voice. He’s taken on all the blame for this since he’s the one who let her go stay the night with the Mardraggons.

  He’s the one who put her in Lionel’s clutches.

  Sylvie starts crying again and Ethan gathers her in close, pulls her onto his lap and rocks his daughter. He’s such a natural at this… an inherent ability to nurture and give unconditional love. While her world has just been torn to pieces again, I still count Sylvie as one lucky little girl.

  ♦

  It’s barely eight p.m. and I’m exhausted. The day’s emotional toll has reduced me to mind numbness, but it’s nothing compared to what Sylvie and Ethan are going through. He’s upstairs right now, checking on her. She fell asleep about an hour ago, curled against me on the couch at Ethan’s house. We came back here to be around the entire family, Ethan believing she needed to be surrounded by love and solidarity more than anything.

  He wasn’t wrong. It was a good choice.

  The fact that he asked me to come, to be a part of it, was a message I received loud and clear.

  I am a part of this family unit now. Not conventionally but by circumstances that none of us ever thought would play out. Without needing to say a single word, Ethan has shown that I have his deepest trust and respect, and I hope somewhere in there, a part of his heart.

  We had dinner together, Fi and I making a big batch of spaghetti which was easy and loved by all. We kept conversation light, didn’t discuss Lionel or any other Mardraggon, for that matter, and managed to get smiles from Sylvie. After, we played Heads Up!, a charades game that paired Sylvie and me, and we stomped everyone’s butts. Her yawns indicated an early bedtime and although she’s been asleep for over an hour, Ethan has gone up twice to check on her.

  Fi and Tommy returned to their cottage, Kat back to her apartment, and Trey and Wade back to their house in town. Ethan asked me to stay, so I did. We’ve been cuddled on the couch in between his trips upstairs to check on Sylvie, talking in low voices about what the future might look like because things are going to be chaotic.

  Ethan got a text from Gabe while we were eating dinner. It was simple and didn’t invite a follow-up response: My father’s been arrested. Attempted murder.

  We didn’t tell Sylvie and Ethan has decided to keep her home from school tomorrow. The update came too late for the six o’clock news cycle but we expect it to be on the late news. It will be all over the school in the morning.

  The good news is that an assistant principal in a neighboring county has a sister who is a licensed child therapist specializing in trauma and she has agreed to see Sylvie tomorrow. Ethan will bring her at lunchtime and that’s probably our biggest solace right now. We have a professional to help guide us all through this journey.

  The stairs creak as Ethan comes down and when he walks into the room, I can tell he’s as tired as I am. When he reaches the couch, he takes my hand and pulls me up, only to lower himself down with me on his lap. He adjusts my position and I put my arms around his neck, resting my head on his shoulder. “You okay?”