Crowned by Fate (Crowned 2)

My left arm rears back before my fist collides with her cheek.

“You don’t know shit about me, my husband, or my daughter. You don’t know shit about my family. And you are both deluded if any of you thought you could replace me.” I cut my stare to my mother, unlatching my grip around Pearl’s throat. “What was in it for you, Isabel? What did they say that you gained with helping them?”

“Oh we didn’t tell her anything about hurting you. She wouldn’t get in the fucking car if we did. We said we were helping you.” Pearl laughs, mock frowning. “She’s weak. Don’t know what Father saw in her. She kept rambling like a crazy person about how much she can’t wait to see her daughters, all while not thinking about how I was right in front of her.”

Amongst her blubbering, a thought enters my mind and I can’t get it out unless I say it. “So you knew we were siblings?” I turn to Max, trying to wipe the disgust off my brain, but fail.

He smirks. “I did.”

Bryant growls behind me. I can feel his energy hovering over me like a demonic entity, just waiting for his moment.

“Bad,” Isabel interrupts, shaking her head furiously. “She is bad, bad, bad. Not sick, just bad.”

The final cloud of uncertainty moves away and the light shines in. My mom isn’t bad. She’s a good person that was left with bad people. A fierce force of protective energy surges through me and I know that without a doubt, I would kill and be killed for this woman. The woman who I also recognize to be the woman in the photo I found when I was in my father’s office all those years ago.

“Lydia was going to be next too.” Pearl runs her slick tongue over her teeth, and I have to fight the urge to knock them all out.

Brianna steps forward now. “Lydia stepped up the best she could when father stood down. It’s why they call them stepparents. Lydia is none of your concern.”

“Enough!” Bryant hollers behind me, and the silence that shifts into the air is chilling. “I’ve heard enough.”

His hand finds mine, and he twists my fingers with his, turning me around to face him. I inhale his scent, burying my face into the crook of his neck. “Mom comes home with us.”

He kisses the top of my head as I slowly gather my composure. “Yeah, baby, she is. We will take care of her.” I appreciate him hiding my vulnerability, taking control of the situation by doing so.

His arms tighten around me, but his words are for Pearl. “I would have never bought it if you switched places with Isa.”

“True,” Max says, and my jaw snaps closed. “Which is why the switch didn’t happen. Though I was convinced right up until that first night at your place.” He pauses. “Fate? The cabin was your father’s. It was his and Brooke’s fuck house. Even had portraits of her hanging around the place until Pearl redid them, smudging out her face.” I shiver at the realization that I had been wearing Brooke’s clothes and not Stacey’s.

“Stacey…” I whisper. Even though it’s muffled into Bryant’s suit, Max hears it.

“Was a plant all along. I knew her connection to Bryant from the day I met her. It was all part of it. Though when she suspected I was hiding things, she left me. She didn’t know exactly what she suspected, which is the only reason why she is still breathing right now…”

I feel Bryant tense.

I should feel jealous that he’s protective over someone else that’s not me, but I find myself not going there. If anything, it has made me realize how much heart he does hide beneath the elusive surface and lavish suits. There’s a peace that is washing through me. All this time, I thought I was crazy. Unbalanced. A recluse. But it wasn’t me at all. It was the forces around me.

“Shut the fuck up…” Bryant growls. “You’re lucky you’re still breathing right now.”

Max chuckles.

Bryant ignores him, bending down and tucking his index finger beneath my chin to tilt my face up to his. “I’ll ask you one thing.”

I blink, following the hard edges of his high cheekbones and scruffy jawline.

He bends down until his lips touch my earlobe. “Hart Island, or pig farm?”

They deserve murder. They deserve pain. Suffering. Torture.

But I don’t want to shower Bryant with more sins, I want to wash the ones that are already stained on his hands clean. It will take years, but I’m confident.

I shake my head.

“Baby, we can’t let them go. Harper will never be safe. They could come back and plot more bullshit. We will be constantly looking over our shoulders.”

“He’s right.” Brianna breaks her silence, and I slowly turn my face toward her. Her arm is over our mom protectively, as she rests against her chest. Her otherwise perfectly prim attire and stature is bent, crooked, and dark. It’s the most real I’ve ever seen her, and I love it. “Isa, think about it. I have a kid too. I won’t feel—” She shakes her head.