Vanished (Private 12)

“Okay, then,” she replied. “I’ll wait for you down in the lobby.”

All was silent as my mom walked out and stepped into the private elevator. Mrs. Lange was staring at me like, well, like I was her long-lost granddaughter. When the doors slid shut and we heard the ping that told us my mom was on her way, she finally made a move.

“Have a seat,” she said, extending a hand toward the formal-looking sofa behind me. “Would you like something to eat?”

I backed up and sat down. My stomach was grumbling and I would have killed to tear into one of those yummy, buttery-smelling croissants, but I had a feeling that eating during this conversation might present a choking hazard.

“No, thank you,” I said.

“All right, then, we’ll just get right to it,” she said.

I expected her to sit down in one of the wing-backed chairs on the other side of the coffee table and maybe whip out some blue-backed legal documents for me to sign, swearing that I’d never lay claim to any of the Lange fortune. Instead, she sat down next to me on the couch. So close, our knees were touching.

“Reed, I want you to know I am so sorry about everything I put you through over the last several days,” she said, reaching out and placing her hand over mine. Her fingers were surprisingly warm, and she had the hands of a much younger woman. Not frail in the slightest.

“Wait a minute, what you put me through?” I said, glancing at Noelle. “I thought—”

“None of this was Noelle’s idea,” Mrs. Lange said, looking at Noelle as well. “Please don’t blame her. She was merely doing what was asked of her.”

My brain felt unsteady, like it was resting on a plate of Jell-O. “I don’t understand. Why?”

“We needed to make sure that you were ready,” she replied. “That you were strong enough for what’s to come.”

“What’s to come? What are you talking about?” I said, my eyes flicking from her face to Noelle’s. “How long have you guys known about me? That I was your sister?” I said to Noelle.

“I only just found out, Reed, I swear,” Noelle said.

“What does ‘only just’ mean?” I asked. “Like yesterday or last week or—”

“Right after you started up the BLS,” Noelle said.

My heart turned inside out. “That was more than a month ago! Funny definition of ‘just,’” I spat. This infraction I could blame her for. “How could you not tell me?”

“I didn’t know how to!” Noelle replied, throwing up her hands. “I know how much you worship your dad and I didn’t want you to think my dad was some kind of philandering man whore. He’s not—”

Mrs. Lange held up a hand and Noelle stopped talking instantly. The older woman pursed her lips. I guess it wasn’t every day she heard her son referred to as a philandering man whore.

“Who knew what when is not important,” she said firmly.

Hell if it wasn’t. My blood started to boil in my veins.

“What’s important is what the two of you do with this information,” she added, looking at the both of us. “What’s important is what happens next.”

“Okay, Grandmother. You’ve been talking around this for days. What happens next?” Noelle demanded, ducking her chin as she faced off with her grandma. Our grandma.

“Noelle, come here, please,” Mrs. Lange said, shifting to make some room on her other side.

Noelle rolled her eyes and sighed, but sat down. Mrs. Lange grasped Noelle’s hand atop her leg. Suddenly, my chest was filled with this overwhelming and unexpected lightness. Seeing this woman’s hands clasping Noelle’s and mine in the exact same way made me suddenly feel like Noelle and I were perfectly and totally equal. For the first time ever. And then, another wave of headiness hit me even harder.

Noelle and I were sisters. Sisters. I had an actual sister. Who just happened to be the person who had alternately tortured and protected me during the past two years. Which, actually, kind of made sense. Wasn’t that the way sisters treated each other?

“Haven’t the two of you ever wondered what makes you so special? What makes Billings so special? Why you were both chosen to become Billings sisters?” Mrs. Lange asked.

“I thought she got in because you were in, and I got in because psycho Ariana Osgood wanted me in,” I said acerbically.

She pursed her lips once more. “Ah, Miss Osgood. So much misplaced potential.”

My brow knit at her nostalgic tone. Ariana had turned into a coldblooded murderer. How could anyone talk about her like she was missed?