"She talks about a baby. Says someone took her baby away. That's all she's ever spoken about." Bill added.
Heather's voice dropped to a whisper. "… Did you ever ask what the baby's name was?"
Bill shook his head. "She never told us."
Heather didn't need him to. She already knew. The baby was her. She was the one her mother had been crying for all these years.
Her stomach twisted in rage. Her father. Evelyn. They had tried to erase her mother, and when that didn't work, they had locked her away like some dirty secret. Twenty-five years, locked up and left to rot in this place, while the whole world told Heather her mother was dead.
Her father was a monster. He never loved her mother. Maybe he never loved anyone. And yet, her mother must have loved him—just like Heather had once loved Caius. Maybe the curse of Remington women was that they gave their love to men who didn't deserve it.
Heather straightened her back and she rose to her feet. "Can I take her out of here?"
