“Stop,” I tell her, my voice soft. Too soft. She doesn’t hear me or chooses to ignore me, I’m not sure.
We pass the staircase, heading for the other hallway, where her bedroom is. She stays in the same room she always has, the one she used to share with my father.
That he allows her to stay here is very generous of him. This is a Lancaster residence, and in his eyes, she is no longer a Lancaster. Even though she never changed her name. I doubt she ever will, even if she marries someone else. The Lancaster name just carries far too much prestige for her to willingly give it up.
“What are you doing?” I ask, pausing when I hear the sound of the door opening.
Mother stops, her head whipping to the side, staring at the foyer downstairs. Spencer appears, shutting the door behind him as he slowly glances around.
“Sylvie,” he calls. “Where are you?”
I try to speak, the words getting caught in my throat. But as if he can sense me, his head lifts, his gaze landing on mine, and his brows draw together when his gaze shifts.
And settles on my mother.
THIRTY-FOUR
SYLVIE
“Tell him to leave,”Mother says to me under her breath, her expression like a deranged mask. Angry and demanding. “Now.”
She still believes she has complete control over me. It’s baffling, how delusional she is. How utterly strange it is that she tried to make herself look like me. As if she wants to actually become me. I don’t understand it.
I don’t understandher.
“No.” I shake my head.
“Do it!” Her words slur together, and I wonder if she’s been drinking. Something’s not quite right with her. She seems on edge.
Turning away from her, I croak, “Spencer,” hating how weak I sound. How weak I feel. I somehow disentangle myself from my mother’s grip at the same time Spencer bolts up the stairs, taking two at a time until he’s standing at the very top of them. Once I’m free, I’m running toward him, ignoring my mother’s shouts.
He grabs hold of my waist when I throw myself at him, my entire body shaking as I wrap my arms around his neck. I hold onto him for dear life, closing my eyes and breathing in his delicious masculine scent.
I’m safe, I think, the relief that floods me nearly rendering me into tears.
He rests his hand at the center of my back, comforting me, though I can tell he’s tense. His focus is on my mother and keeping her away from me.
“Back the fuck up,” he says, his voice extra deep and sharp. “I mean it, Sylvia. Stay away from her. From us.”
“She is my daughter!” The words explode out of her mouth, making me jerk my attention back to her. “Get your filthy hands off of her!”
“Stay behind me,” Spencer murmurs, angling me so I’m standing directly behind him. I use him as a shield, cowering, trembling so hard my teeth start to chatter. “I’ve called the police. They’re on their way.”
Mother starts to laugh. “They’re not going to kick me out of my house, you imbecile. I belong here; whereas, you’re just a guest. An interloper. You’ll be the one the police are escorting out of here, not me.”
“Don’t take another step closer.” The warning in Spencer’s tone is dark. Ominous. I don’t dare look at her, afraid of what I might see.
“You can’t keep me from my daughter. No one can. I always find her. I will always be in her life, whether she likes it or not.”
“Why do you push yourself on her when she doesn’t want anything to do with you?”
“I’m her mother.”
“The mother who tried to kill her numerous times,” Spencer accuses.
The room goes silent, and I wait behind him, my mind awhirl. What is she thinking? What does she look like?
I slowly peer around Spencer’s back, noting the way my mother glares at him, her hand at her neck, fingers toying with the giant pearls that lie there.