Page 21 of The Devil’s Lair

“Are you from a big family?”

I nod. “Three older brothers and a younger sister. I did have another sister, but she… she died.”

“God, I’m sorry. How awful.”

She doesn’t know the half of it, and given what little I know about her violent life with Marcus, I’m not about to share the gory details.

“It was a long time ago. I have three sisters-in-law now, too, and a nephew, so yeah, the family’s getting bigger.”

“That’s nice.”

“What about you? Any siblings?”

She looks away. “One. We’re not close.”

Ah, I recognize that shutting of the door. She does it by closing off. My strategy is to tell a joke and hope no one sees the play. “She’s a wonderful kid, Rebecca.”

Her features soften. “She’s my whole world. You’re honored, you know. She wouldn’t let any of Marcus’s friends get this close to her. She’s naturally suspicious of people.”

“It’s a good trait to have. Most people are untrustworthy.”

She looks at me for a long moment. “Are you?”

“That’s not for me to say. You’ll have to decide for yourself. I prefer to let my actions speak for me.”

I take a sip of tea, then lean back, waiting for her to look at me. Whatever that bastard did to this woman, he broke her. She spends so much time looking at her feet, like she’s trying to be invisible, to not take up space, to hide. I can only guess what horrors she went through before Frank put her abusive piece of shit husband in the ground. I saw enough in one night to know she’s suffered beyond a regular person’s comprehension.

Ever since she came to see me in the hospital, I’ve tried to figure out why I care so much about a stranger. I could just throw money at the problem, give her a job, then leave her to get on with her life. But I don’t want to do that, and I’m not sure why.

Did that night connect us in some way? Bind us together through trauma? I don’t know and until I figure it out, I’m going with it. From what I’ve gleaned, she’s alone, and it’s clear that her in-laws have struck up some kind of smear campaign against her. Only this morning I saw another article calling into question her mental acuity and ability to care for her kid. It’s vile, it’s punching down, and if there’s one thing I can’t stand, it’s fucking bullies. Rebecca needs someone on her side, and for whatever reason I don’t yet understand, I’ve decided that’s me.

Tentatively, her gaze flickers up. “Isla, can you go and play in your room for a few minutes? I need to speak with Mr. De Vil.”

Without question, Isla jumps off the couch, grabs her bear, and races upstairs. Rebecca waits for a few seconds, then gets up and closes the door to the living room. When she returns, she stands by the fireplace and wrings her hands.

“My in-laws are filing for custody of Isla, and I don’t know what to do.” She pauses, then her face crumples as quiet tears trickle down her cheeks. “I can’t let them take Isla, but I don’t know how to stop them.”

What a fucking bitch. I’ve come across Preston La Salle once or twice at various functions, and I can’t say I care for the man, but I’ve never met his wife.

“Here, come and sit down.”

When she does, I head into the kitchen. I can’t see any tissues, so I tear off a piece of kitchen paper and bring it to her. She takes it from me and dries her eyes, then blows her nose.

“I’m sorry. I’m sure you have enough problems of your own. You don’t need mine on top of everything else.”

“You let me be the judge of that. How do you know she wants custody of Isla?”

“A solicitor’s letter. It arrived today.”

“Can I see it?”

She gets up and leaves the room, returning a minute later with an envelope. I remove the sheath of papers and scan them.

“You were running, then?”

“Not were. Am. As soon as you’ve gone, I’m getting out of here. Felicity won’t stop until she gets what she wants, and I don’t have the means to fight her legally.”

She’s dropped mentioning Preston and focused in on the mother-in-law. That tells me who the boss of that family is.