Page 63 of Payback

“I beg to differ,” said Rudolph. “You have routinely spied on and recorded your classmates in a bid to avenge yourself against schoolyard pranks, and on numerous occasions, you’ve attacked a young woman you deemed to be a rival.”

One of the bodyguards tapped his smartphone, and a slideshow of Charlotte’s body appeared on the screen. Hand and finger-shaped bruises marred her arms, her thighs, and her breasts.

My mouth dropped open. It was clear that whoever she had slept with had treated her too roughly. “I didn’t do that.”

“Moreover, you’re a danger to yourself.” He clicked his fingers, and the same bodyguard changed the screen to images of my swollen and bruised face.

I hissed through my teeth. This was the photo Charlotte had taken of me the first day I returned from the palace.

Mom clapped her hands over her mouth to smother a cry. Her eyes shone with tears.

“I’m sorry to shock you, my darling,” Rudolph crooned. “In the middle of her promiscuous episodes, Emilia got herself mixed up with older men whose sexual tastes ran toward the sadistic.”

The guard brought picture after picture of me in my battered state. Some were those Peter Underwood had taken after Mr. Carbuncle had beaten me up. A few were of me still unconscious, propped up against the wall with what I could only guess was the former caretaker’s erection pointing at my mouth.

Mom closed her eyes and sobbed, “No more.”

“Do you see why I staged this intervention?” Rudolph sounded genuinely concerned. “If we don’t do something about our wayward daughter, she’s likely to get herself killed in pursuit of sexual thrills.”

Mom bowed her head.

“M-Mom?”

She raised her palm. “I-I just can’t talk to you, right now.”

“But those men were working for—”

“Emilia,” she snapped. “Please.”

My stomach plummeted. Mom acted as though we hadn’t bumped into each other in London two weeks ago, and I hadn’t explained to her Rudolph’s every machination. I had glossed over what Mr. Carbuncle had done, as I hadn’t wanted her to worry. However, was it too much of a stretch to accept that I was sleeping with the boys at the same time? Or had Rudolph convinced her I had gone crazy?

With a triumphant grin, the old reptile wrapped his arm around Mom’s shoulders. “There, there, my darling. Rudy will take care of your little problem, and you’ll be happy again.”

I ground my teeth. By happy, Rudolph likely meant willing to sleep with him. His addled mind seemed to think that I was the cause of Mom’s refusal to consummate their marriage. Not his syphilis diagnosis and not his coercing her to continue the engagement and be married long enough for him to save face.

My hands shook, and a dull ache spread from my gut, up to my chest, and to the back of my throat. I clasped together my sweaty palms and laced my fingers. Mom was either drugged, brainwashed, or playing along. None of those roles meshed with her quick temper and passionate nature.

A spasm squeezed my throat. What if she agreed to send me away to Moldova? I didn’t know anything about the country except that it once used to be part of the Soviet Union. I doubted that this institution would provide me with any kind of treatments that would leave my mind intact.

“M-mom?”

“I need time.” She dabbed her tears with a handkerchief. “And a second opinion.”

Rudolph’s smile dropped. “Isn’t this evidence enough to prove Emilia’s mental instability?”

“She’s not going anywhere until I have her personally assessed by my own doctor and not through an expert who has seen a few pictures.”

Hope sprung in my chest. Even if she wasn’t playing along, this would buy me time to work out my next move.

“Darling.” Rudolph leaned forward and held her hand. “I think you’re making a mistake.”

“And I’m getting her a second opinion with a doctor in Britain or the States,” she said. “We’ll use the time between now and the end of term to contact experts in juvenile mental health and get a diagnosis based on an assessment.”

Rage flashed in his eyes. It lasted quicker than a heartbeat, but it made my stomach drop. His expression smoothed out into his usual wrinkled, expressionless mask. “Very well, my darling, but I will keep some guards stationed in Mercia for Emilia’s protection.”

“Is that really necessary?”

“I insist,” he said through clenched teeth.