Hunter kneels beside me, not touching, just waiting.
“You found me on the street,” I say, voice barely above a whisper.
He nods.
“You knew the whole time?”
He doesn’t answer. I look up, and his eyes are red, his face wet.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” I say, the question sharper than a blade. “Why didn’t you ever tell me who I am, really?”
He shakes his head, jaw clenched so hard I hear his teeth grind. “I was an opportunist,” he admits. He lets out a long, raggedbreath. “I wanted to keep you, even if it was just for a little while.”
A new wave of disbelief rises, hotter than before. “So you let me think I was nobody? You let me—” The tears choke me off.
He bows his head. “I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I was so fucking selfish.”
I shove at him, weakly, fists pounding his chest. “You’re a monster,” I sob. “You’re no better than any other rich asshole who mistreats women.” My throat is shredded, but I can’t stop. “You’re worse, because you knew the whole time. You knew who I was.”
He doesn’t move, doesn’t defend himself.
I collapse again, every muscle shot, skin clammy and cold. My heart is thudding so hard I think it’ll break through my ribs.
The memory fragments come faster now, a strobe light of my old life: Eliza, giggling in the back of a classroom; my dad, standing at the grill, yelling about the Packers; Hunter, older, in a suit, handing me a glass of wine at a family reunion, his eyes not leaving mine.
I clutch my head, digging my nails into my scalp, trying to hold all the pieces together.
“I don’t know who I am,” I say, voice trembling. “I don’t know if I ever did.”
Hunter is quiet for a long time. When he finally speaks, the words are raw, stripped of all artifice.
“You’re my sister,” he says. “And you’re the only thing I’ve ever really wanted.”
I lift my head, hair wild, tears still running. “Is that why you bought me? Because the world would never condone our relationship, and so you used the period of amnesia to hide me from the world?”
He nods, shame etched deep.
I want to hurt him, but I’m too tired.
Instead, I just sob, pulling my knees tighter, letting the grief wreck me from the inside out.
I stay that way for a long time.
When the tears run dry, I wipe my face, stand, and face him.
“I hate you,” I state in a flat tone, although I really don’t.
Hunter doesn’t hesitate. “I love you, Tara. I have for a long time.”
And I believe him.
Because now I have nothing left to lose.
I can’t stop shaking.My hands feel like they belong to someone else, tingling at the tips, and my legs threaten to fold beneath me every other breath. The study is suffocating, the walls closing in, but I refuse to leave until I have what I came for.
The truth. The ugly, inside-out version. I need to hear it, again and again.
Hunter sits on the edge of the desk, elbows on knees, his face a haunted ruin. He doesn’t look at me, not even when I square my shoulders and plant myself directly in front of him.