Page 187 of Hades

“Zander’s dead,” I said.

The color drained from her face.

“He tried to use me as bait. Tried to destroy the club. Tried to kill Brock.” I leaned forward. “He’s not coming to save you. No one is. It’s just you and me now.”

Her hands started shaking.

“So tell me,” I said. “Why did you take me?”

The silence stretched between us. Then she broke.

“I couldn’t have children.” Her voice was small. Broken. “I tried for years. Doctors. Treatments. Nothing worked.” She looked down at her hands. “Your mother, Colette’s mother—she had two. Apollo and you. And she was so young. So careless. She didn’t appreciate what she had.”

My stomach twisted.

“I was her best friend,” Claire continued. “I was there when you were born. I held you. Fed you. Watched you while she slept.” Her voice cracked. “And I thought... I thought if I just had one. Just one child. I could be happy.”

“So you stole me.”

“I saved you.” Her eyes snapped up, defensive. “She didn’t deserve you. She didn’t know how to love you the way I could.”

“You kidnapped me.”

“I gave you a life!” Her voice rose. “I fed you. Clothed you. Kept you safe. I was your mother in every way that mattered.”

“Except the truth.”

She looked away.

“You lied to me every single day,” I said. “You let me believe I was yours. That I belonged to you. That this was my life.”

“It was your life.”

“No.” I stood. “It was the life you stole for me.”

“I loved you.”

“You loved the idea of me.” My voice stayed even. Controlled. “You loved having something that belonged to you. But you didn’t love me. You couldn’t. Because you never let me be real.”

She started crying.

I watched and felt nothing.

“What about Zander?” I asked.

She wiped her eyes. Her hands were shaking. “I met him after we moved here. To Athens. He was just... he was kind to me. Paid attention.” Her voice dropped to something small. Ashamed. “I was so lonely, Lettie. So tired. And he made me feel like I mattered.”

“How long?”

“Years. I met him during Harvest Week that first year. Then every year, always during the festival. He’d talk to me. Ask about you. About our life.” She looked down at her hands. “I thought he cared. I thought he was just... a friend.”

“A friend.”

“I didn’t know!” Her voice cracked. “I didn’t know who he was or what he wanted. I was stupid. Naïve. He made me feel seen and I—” She broke off. “I never asked questions. I should have. But I didn’t want to lose the only person who made me feel like I wasn’t invisible.”

I stared at her. This woman who’d stolen my entire life. Who’d made me feel like a burden while I learned to garden and cook and survive on my own.

“I’ll go make your tea,” I said.