“Well… there may have been some phone calls and letters after the breakup, but they eventually stopped. Presumably, Ellen realized that I had moved on. We all move on from our college flings, don’t we?”
“So you’re telling me that this secret ex-girlfriend of yours has suddenly come out of the woodwork forty years later to make your life hell?”
“Yes! I told you, I don’t know why!” Vivianne grabbed her handkerchief from the corner of the coffee table and dabbed her cheeks. “And now that you know this shameful past of mine, I must implore you to not tell a soul, Ms. Reddy. Do what you must to keep Ellen away from my family, but do not tell my children. Do not bring it up to my husband…”
“Does he know about this?”
“That it’s Ellen causing all this trouble?” Vivianne looked away. “Yes. But he doesn’t know the whole story. He thinks Ellen was my best friend who got jealous because I was getting married when she had no reasonable prospects. That’s what I told him. I mean, I had to tell him something. He knew Ellen and I were close and that I had to cut her off right before the wedding. It would look suspicious if I didn’t give him a reason. So, here we are.”
Sam shook her head. “You know you have to tell your daughters, don’t you? At least Bianca.”
“I see no reason to. Why should that matter?”
“Why should it matter?” Sam couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “Because you’ve spent the past forty years foisting an idealized version of yourself onto each one of them! Your hypocrisy has poisoned all three of your daughters. Even Bianca thinks of you as a cruel homophobe who would rather see her children straight and miserable than in relationships that actually make them happy. Don’t you get it? Your hatred for yourself has all but ruined your relationships with them!”
“Ms. Reddy,” Vivianne said with a ladylike sniff. “I don’t recall hiring you to be my therapist.”
“No. You hired me to be your daughter’s bodyguard. And, may I remind you, she chose me.”
She let her words hang in the air. Vivianne would understand them soon enough.
“You cannot tell Bianca what I’ve shared with you here,” she said.
“Oh, I can, and I will. Of course, I think it’s best that you tell her. She deserves to hear it from her mother. But if you’re too much of a coward to tell her yourself, I won’t keep this secret for you.”
“You wouldn’t—”
“Tell her, Mrs. Black.” Sam snatched the letter up from the coffee table. “Or I will.”
Vivianne gaped at her, the reality of the situation dawning on her. Sam wasn’t going to back down. She had no choice but to tell her daughter the truth.
“Just… give me time,” she finally said. “A day, just to get my thoughts together. Please. That’s all I ask.”
“Fine.” Sam stood up. “You get twenty-four hours, starting now. In the meantime, I’ll talk to my team about finding out who’s been leaving these notes.”
She didn’t wait for an answer. She shoved the letter in her pocket and marched out of the salon and down the hall, almost running into the housekeeper, who yelped and stopped in her tracks.
“Can I help you?” Sam snapped.
“I…” Fleur stepped back, allowing Sam to pass by. “No. It is nothing, Madame Reddy.”
As Sam stepped through the front door, she checked her watch. It was just past 9 p.m.
24 hours.Vivianne had until tomorrow night to confess her sins to her youngest daughter. Soon, Bianca’s relationship with her mother would be irrevocably transformed.