Page 103 of Claimed By my Father's Enemies
He looks at me and I hold it. Neither of us moves. The bass goes on below us. I'm angry and he's in some state that is past anger. We both know that what I'm saying isn't wrong and that's the problem.
The silence between us is running long enough to turn into something else —
"We need to tell Sienna the truth." Carter says. Not loud. In a calm way. Like someone who finally processed the information and has come up to the only possible solution.
"All of it." He looks at me first. Then to William. "And accept whatever may come of it."
I start building the counterargument automatically. The exposure, the damage, what happens if she knows everything. I'm trying to find the angle Carter hasn't considered, and I —
Can't.
The bass thumps. Below us, a cheer.
I pour a glass of whisky. Leave it at the table.
Doesn’t he realize that by telling her the truth we might lose her? I don’t think I can do it.
I don’t want to risk it, so I say the one thing that I know with absolute certainty that is true.
“I love her.”
This is the first time I say it. Even to myself.
"I don't want to lose—" My words come low, like if I say it and complete the sentence I’m manifesting it.
William doesn't move. He's still looking at the table. Something passes across his face that I can't read. Not quite recognition, not quite grief, something between them.
Carter nods. Once. I know he understands me because I can see he feels the same way.
"What future do you think you can build based on lies?" He looks at William. "We've done enough damage to her life already. We can't keep making the same mistake."
"But we did it to help her." I hear myself start. "Okay, she wasn't driving. But still— she was having issues. The drinking, the acting out. Right?"
My voice loses conviction somewhere in the middle.
I try again. "She had a record. There was documented—”
I hear how it sounds. A lawyer running out of arguments, throwing precedents at a case that doesn't support them. Each line collapses before I can finish it. The instability narrative, the substance abuse history, the Conrad Cross angle. I can feel each one thinning as I reach for it, the framework I built from other people's testimony breaking down.
I stop talking.
I recall the moment when William pulled us aside this afternoon saying he needed to talk to us urgently. He couldn’t say it there. It was better if we met later. And most importantly, not to let Sienna know that something was going on.
And I remember that when we told her that tonight we had a work thing and couldn’t be with her she immediately believed. No questions asked. She believed us. She trusted us.
I pick up the glass. And take a generous swallow. I’m going to need it.
"We tell her everything," I say.
Then I look at Carter. "You don't have to be part of it. You weren't involved from the start. There's no reason for this to fall on you."
William looks up. "Yeah. This is on us."
Carter shakes his head. Once.
"I knew everything. And I didn't tell her." A pause. "Not to mention I hired her under false pretenses." He looks at the table. "You know how important her work is to her." And then quieter, "We need to tell her"
Nobody argues.
