Chapter 63: When Moms Collide

The Knight mansion’s living room feels like a gilded cage, all marble floors and velvet curtains. I’m nestled in Erica’s arms per my usual location here.

Across from us, Mom and Vivian perch on an antique couch that probably costs more than my old life. Brooke and Rachel hover nearby, looking tense. The air crackles with unspoken tension.

Vivian lets out a long-suffering sigh. “Thank you all for gathering here today.”

My stomach drops. The last time we had a ‘family meeting’ like this, my world got turned upside down. For the second time.

“Let me guess,” I quip, unable to keep the edge from my voice. “You’re going to blindside me again? What’s next Lindsey has a secret evil twin?”

‘Fuck it’s not that right?’

Erica’s arms tighten around me protectively. I can practically feel her glaring at Vivian.

“Easy there, tiger,” Erica murmurs in my ear. “I won’t let them pull any shit this time.”

I want to believe her, but in this house, when these people gather, it’s always bad for me.

Vivian sighs again, her perfectly manicured hand waving dismissively. “No, Jason. Not like the last two times.”

I’m about to breathe a sigh of relief when Mom pipes up, a mischievous smirk playing on her lips. “Maybe, though, I think it’s possible you could still be blindsided by this.”

‘Jesus, Mom. Can’t read a room at all.’ My heart rate kicks up a notch, and I feel Erica’s grip on me tighten even more. If this keeps up, she might actually crush my ribs.

Vivian shoots Mom an annoyed look that could freeze hell over. “Emily, please. The last time, we sprung Lyra on the boy...”

She trails off, probably remembering the chaos that ensued. I sure as hell remember almost killing my unborn baby.

Vivian turns back to me, her expression softening slightly. “No, Jason. This has nothing to do with you this time.”

The tension in my body releases so fast I practically melt into Erica’s arms. “Thank god,” I mutter, feeling Erica’s relieved exhale ruffle my hair.

Brooke’s eyes dart between Vivian and Mom, her gaze as sharp as a knife’s edge. The tension in the room is so thick you could cut it with a spoon.

“Alright, enough with the cryptic bullshit,” Brooke snaps, her voice cutting through the silence like a chainsaw through butter. “What’s the big news that’s got everyone acting like they’ve swallowed a live eel?”

Vivian lets out another sigh. She glances at Mom, who’s still wearing that Cheshire cat grin, before turning back to face the room.

“Well,” Vivian begins, her voice as delicate as a ballerina tiptoeing through a minefield, “through circumstances that were... entirely out of both Emily’s and my control, we’ve... started dating each other.”

‘Out of their control? Is she saying they were so horny they couldn’t help but date?’

The silence that follows is so profound I swear I can hear the dust bunnies under the couch gasping in shock. Then, like a dam bursting, Rachel’s laughter explodes through the room, bouncing off the walls and probably scaring the pants off any nearby birds.

“Hold up,” Rachel wheezes between guffaws, clutching her sides like she’s afraid they might split open. “Wasn’t she your bully in high school, Mom? Like, the whole ‘shove you in lockers and steal your lunch money’ kind of bully?”

Vivian’s face turns a shade of red that would make a tomato jealous. “Yes, well...” she mutters, looking like she’d rather be anywhere else in the universe right now. Maybe on Mars, having a tea party with the Curiosity rover.

Meanwhile, Mom’s grin has somehow grown even wider. I’m starting to worry her face might actually split in half. “What can I say?” she chirps, sounding way too chipper for someone discussing their high school tormentor turned lover. “Enemies to lovers is a pretty common trope, isn’t it? Besides, have you seen how hot she looks in a power suit?”

Erica’s scowl deepens, her face contorting like she just bit into a lemon soaked in vinegar. I crane my neck to look up at her, raising an eyebrow. “What’s wrong, babe? You look like someone just canceled Paula Walker for being a pedo.”

She leans in close, her breath hot against my ear as she whispers, “I’m still pissed that my mom’s the bottom. We both know what we saw on Christmas Eve.”

The memory flashes through my mind. Mom going at Vivian with a strap-on like she was trying to drill for oil. I have to stifle a snort of laughter. “Who cares?” I whisper back, shrugging as best I can while still wrapped in Erica’s arms.

“You only feel that way cause you’re a bottom,” Erica grumbles, her arms tightening around me possessively.

I can’t help but chuckle at that. “That’s fair,” I concede, settling back against her chest.

Vivian’s sharp voice cuts through our whispered conversation. “What are you two laughing about over there?” Her eyes narrow suspiciously, darting between Erica and me like a tennis match played by very paranoid people.

I plaster on my best innocent smile, the one I’ve perfected after months of living in this madhouse. “Nothing!” I chirp, my voice as sweet as artificial sweetener. “We’re very happy for you two.”

Erica’s eyebrows shoot up so high they practically disappear into her hairline. “Well, I gotta say, I’m surprised you two are lesbians, but hey, if Mom had to end up with someone, I’m glad it’s someone as cool as you, Emily.”

Emily’s face lights up like a Christmas tree, her chest puffing out with pride. It’s weird seeing my usually stern mom look so... giddy, like a schoolgirl who just got praise from her father.

Vivian, on the other hand, looks like she’s just sucked on a particularly sour lemon. She shoots Emily a look that could curdle milk. “Oh please,” she scoffs, addressing Erica, rolling her eyes so hard I’m worried they might get stuck. “The only reason you look up to her is because she used to be a bully.”

Erica nods sagely like Vivian just dropped some profound wisdom. “True,” she agrees, her voice filled with a weird sort of pride.

I can’t help but grimace, my face scrunching up like I’ve just smelled something particularly foul. “Come on, guys,” I protest, my voice a mix of exasperation and disbelief. “Don’t idolize bullies. That’s fucked up.”

Brooke suddenly bursts into laughter, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “Oh my god, Jason,” she wheezes, wiping a tear from her eye. “You’re literally dating the town bully. Like, the actual, certified, gold-star bully of our entire city.”

I expect Erica to bristle at this, to puff up and defend herself. But to my surprise, she just nods, a proud smirk playing on her lips. “Damn straight,” she declares. “I’m a fucking weapon.”

Erica’s always been quick to resort to violence. She’s hit a lot of people for my sake. Very quick to anger too. ‘In reality, this would probably be a sign of a potential abuser, but she’s usually so gentle with me.’

Instead of being scared, I find myself melting further into her arms, a warm, fuzzy feeling spreading through my chest. There’s something oddly comforting about being with someone so tough, so ready to throw down for me at a moment’s notice. It’s like having my own personal, unhinged bodyguard.

Just then, Brooke’s phone chirps with a notification. She glances at it, her eyebrows furrowing slightly. “Excuse me,” she says, already rising from her seat. “I have to go make a call.”

We all nod, watching as she slips out of the room, her phone clutched tightly in her hand. As soon as she’s gone, Vivian clears her throat, drawing our attention back to the matter at hand.

“Now, as I was saying,” Vivian continues, her voice taking on that crisp, businesslike tone she uses when she’s about to drop some serious news. “Emily will be staying here at the mansion from time to time, so let’s try to get along, yeah?”

*****

[Brooke’s POV]

The Knight Mansion looms behind me, its large structures piercing the blue sky like accusatory fingers. I shiver in the winter cold, yanking my car door open and sliding into the driver’s seat. The leather interior still smells new, a small comfort as I try to shake off the creeping unease that always follows a visit to Erica’s place.

I unlock the screen. A text from an unknown number glows ominously:

“Hey, it’s me. Call me when you get a chance.”

I sigh, the sound long and weary, like the last gasp of air escaping a punctured tire. My eyes dart around, scanning the mansion’s grounds with the paranoid intensity of a conspiracy theorist at a government building. The manicured lawns and perfectly trimmed hedges suddenly seem sinister, as if they’re hiding cameras or microphones ready to catch my every move.

‘I don’t trust the Knight family one bit, not after everything that’s happened. First, Erica swooped in and snatched Jason away like some kind of deranged, possessive hawk. And now? Now they’ve got their claws in Mom, too.’ The thought makes my stomach churn, a nauseating cocktail of anger and betrayal.

What stings the most is how Mom acts around them. All smiles and laughter, like she’s finally found her long-lost family. ‘Where was that warmth when Jason and I were growing up?’ I scowl, the expression twisting my face into something ugly and bitter.

Satisfied that I’m alone, I go back to my phone. The screen glows in the dimming light, casting eerie shadows across my face. My finger hovers over the call button for a moment before I finally press it, bringing the phone to my ear.

The line rings once, twice, three times. Each trill sends a jolt of anticipation through my body. Finally, there’s a click, and Lyra’s voice filters through, so soft and nervous it’s almost lost in the static.

“H-hello?” she stammers, her voice quivering like a leaf in a storm.

“Lyra?” I breathe, my voice barely above a whisper. “It’s been a while. I haven’t heard from you since I wired you that money when you got to Spain.”

There’s a long pause on the other end, filled only by the sound of Lyra’s shaky breathing. When she finally speaks, her voice is thin and reedy, like a ghost of its former self.

“I-I know,” she sighs, the sound crackling through the phone line like static. “I’ve been... I’ve been really paranoid since I left Salem. Every shadow, every unexpected noise... I kept thinking they’d found me.”

I lean back in my seat, the leather creaking softly beneath me. The sky outside has deepened to a rich indigo, the first stars peeking out like timid children. “Jason doesn’t seem to be trying to hunt you down like we both thought,” I tell her, trying to inject some reassurance into my voice.

“Oh, thank God,” Lyra breathes, her voice a mixture of relief and manic energy. “Thank God, thank God, thank God.” She repeats it like a mantra, each iteration more frenzied than the last.

I can practically see her pacing, her free hand tugging at her hair as she speaks. “But to be honest, I’m far more afraid of Alicia Carter’s people. She didn’t want me to have the baby, but I don’t know if she’ll stop me…”

Her voice trails off, dissolving into a series of rapid, shallow breaths. I wait, giving her a moment to collect herself. The silence stretches between us, punctuated only by the distant hoot of an owl somewhere in the Knight estate’s sprawling grounds.

“Lyra,” I say gently, trying to coax her back from whatever panicked spiral she’s tumbling down. “Where are you now?”

There’s a pause, then a shaky inhale. “Belarus,” she whispers, as if afraid someone might overhear. “It’s not so bad here. They won’t look for me here, right? Right?”

I close my eyes, picturing Lyra huddled in some dingy apartment in Minsk, jumping at every creak and shadow. “You’re safe there,” I assure her, though I have no way of knowing if that’s true. “Listen, Lyra. You remember our deal, right?”

“Yes!” The word bursts from her like a dam breaking. “Yes, of course. You get the baby, and you’ll get Jason to fall in love with me. You promised. You promised!”

Her excitement is palpable, crackling through the phone like electricity.

“That’s right,” I say, my voice dripping with false reassurance. “I promised, and I always keep my promises. Once you give me the baby, I’ll make sure Jason sees you for the wonderful person you are. He’ll fall head over heels, I guarantee it.”

I’m lying through my teeth, of course. ‘The moment I get my hands on that baby, Jason’s baby, Lyra will be nothing more than a distant, unpleasant memory. She’s even worse for Jason than Erica is, if that’s possible. But for now, I need to keep her calm and keep her trusting me.’

“How’s the baby doing?” I ask.

Lyra’s response is immediate, her voice lifting with genuine joy. “Oh, the baby’s doing wonderfully! I found a local doctor. She’s really great, so attentive and caring. She says the baby is growing perfectly.”

I can almost see her beaming, one hand resting protectively over her swollen belly. The image makes my stomach churn with a mixture of longing and disgust.

“That’s wonderful news, Lyra,” I coo, forcing enthusiasm into my voice. “I’m so glad you’ve found good medical care. You know, I was thinking, do you need any more money? I want to make sure that the baby is as healthy as possible. Prenatal vitamins, good food, anything to keep my brother’s baby healthy.”

“Oh, Jason...” Lyra’s voice takes on a dreamy quality, like she’s floating on a cloud of blissful memories. “Do you think he ever thinks of me? Of our time together?”

I bite back a wretch. ‘Time together? That’s one way to put it, you fucking monster.’

Despite my disdain for her I keep my voice gentle, encouraging. “I’m sure he does, Lyra. How could he forget?”

“You’re right,” she sighs, her voice filled with a wistful longing that makes my skin crawl. “Our connection was so special, so intense. Sometimes, when I close my eyes, I can still feel his touch, hear his moans. It’s like he’s right here with me.”

I grip the steering wheel tighter, my knuckles turning white like. “That’s... that’s great, Lyra. Listen, do you need any more money? I want to make sure that baby is as healthy as possible.”

“Oh, no, thank you,” Lyra chirps, her voice light and airy. “I have plenty until I come back. The money you sent before was more than enough.”

“Okay,” I nod, even though she can’t see me. “If you need anything, anything at all, just let me know.”

“Of course, thank you so much, Brooke,” Lyra gushes. “You’re so kind, just like Jason. I can see where he gets it from.”

I take a deep breath, steeling myself. “Lyra, I need you to do something for me. From now on, I want weekly updates.”

“Oh!” Lyra exclaims, her voice rising with excitement. “Yes, of course! That way I can hear about what Jason’s up to, right? Oh, I’d love that so much!”

I sigh, the sound heavy with exhaustion and guilt. “Exactly,” I lie, my voice smooth as silk. “And I can get updates on the baby too.”

“Yes, yes!” Lyra agrees enthusiastically. “I can tell you all about how the baby’s growing, and you can tell me all about Jason. It’ll be perfect!”

“Great,” I mutter, glancing at the clock on my dashboard. “Listen, Lyra, I’ve got to run. Take care of yourself, okay?”

“Of course, Brooke! Thank you so much for calling,” Lyra chirps, her voice brimming with an enthusiasm that makes my stomach churn. “I’ll talk to you next week! Give Jason my love!”

The line goes dead, but her words linger in the air like a foul stench. I sit there, gripping the steering wheel so tight my knuckles turn white, seething with rage. ‘How dare she? How fucking dare she?’

The monster who kidnapped and raped my brother, who worked with that psychopath Lindsey Carter, is just... happy. Living freely in Belarus, eagerly awaiting updates about Jason like some lovesick schoolboy. It’s enough to make me want to scream, to punch something, to drive all the way to Belarus and strangle her with my bare hands.

I can picture her now, sitting in some quaint little apartment, humming to herself as she rubs her swollen belly. Probably daydreaming about Jason, reimagining their “time together” as some beautiful, romantic encounter instead of the sick fucking saw trap rape shit it truly was. The thought makes bile rise in my throat.

“Calm down,” I mutter to myself, my voice barely audible over the sound of my ragged breathing. “Calm down, Brooke. We’re doing this for the baby. For Jason’s baby.”

I close my eyes, forcing myself to take deep, steadying breaths. In, out. In, out. Slowly, the red haze of anger begins to recede, replaced by a cold, calculated determination.

‘Just a little longer. I just need to keep this up a little longer. Once I have the baby, Lyra will be out of our lives for good. And Erica... well, separating her from Jason will be trickier but not impossible. Nothing’s impossible when it comes to protecting my little brother.’

A smile begins to creep across my face as I imagine it. Jason, free from Erica’s possessive grip. Me, him, and the baby living together. A real family, the way it should be. The way it always should have been.

I can see it so clearly. On cozy Sunday mornings, the three of us cuddled up on the couch. Jason, laughing and relaxed, finally free from the constant gaslighting and abuse that Erica assuredly must be putting him through. The baby, gurgling happily in my arms, looking up at me with those big, trusting eyes Jason used to have when we were kids.

And me... I’d be there for both of them. Protecting them, loving them, and giving them the stable, loving home they both deserve. No more Erica, no more Knights, no more drama or danger or fear. Just us, together, safe and happy.

The smile on my face grows wider and warmer. Yes, that’s what I’m fighting for. That’s what makes all of this, the lies, the manipulation, the sleepless nights, worth it.

“Soon,” I whisper to myself.