Page 160 of Wicked Little Secret
I wrench myself from his grip and stumble a few steps back. The letters appear in my mind’s eye, shifting back and forth to spell out the two names.
Rosalyn Vise.
…and Nyssa Oliver.
Then I think back to the newspaper articles I’ve read. Dozens of them from twenty years ago when Valentine was wreaking havoc on Castlebury, and I remember the headline for Anton Vise.
“Interview with Amelia Vise, Widow of Valentine Victim Anton Vise: How She and Their 3-year-old Daughter Rosalyn will Seek Justice,” I whisper the newspaper article title aloud. “That was me?”
“His wife didn’t fight Brooklyn Webber for custody or legally changing your name. She was relieved to have you out of her hair. Evidence of her husband’s infidelity and philandering ways. Brooklyn won custody easily, changed your names, and assumed the title of your mother.”
I scrub at my face, dizzy by these revelations. “I’m the daughter of Anton Vise? My real name’s Rosalyn Vise? That can’t be true, Theron!”
“But it is true! Don’t you see? It is all true!”
I ease back to put more space between us, but Theron advances. He cuts the distance I’ve sought and grabs me by the wrists to draw me back toward him.
His rumpled hair’s messy and his eyes are crazed behind his glasses.
He holds onto me like he’s desperate for me to understand.
It’s then that I realize he hasn’t told me everything.
There’s more.
There’s another revelation that’s possibly more disturbing than the rest.
A shaky breath tumbles out of me. My throat aches enough that I can only speak in a whisper. “Theron,” I say slowly, “what happened to my mother? If she was Valentine, then what happened to her? What did you do to her!?”
The passion fades from his face for a darker, more unsettling vacant look. “I tried to warn her. I tried to tell her.”
“Theron… Theron… tell me you didn’t! Tell me you didn’t really do it!”
I tug and twist against him, trying to free myself. Panic rises, growing and expanding inside me the tighter he grips my wrists.
“LET GO!” I scream wildly. “LET ME GO!”
“I didn’t,” he says, dragging me closer. Bringing me right up against his chest, bedsheet and all. “Nyssa, you have to believe me when I say?—”
“How could you?” I cry. “How could you do it?”
“I didn’t… I would never!”
“You killed her!”
“I KILLED HIM!” he barks in my face, effectively silencing me. He gives me a hard shake. “Don’t you fucking get it? I killed himforkilling her! She went against my warnings and went after him, but he overpowered her. He stabbed her right in the fucking heart. My heart. I felt it. The knife running through. He watched her bleed out and die like it was nothing.
“And when I came across the scene, I… I lost it. I blacked out. I slaughtered him. Tore his chest open. Ripped out his innards. I made him suffer. I kept him alive as long as possible ’til he couldn’t stand anymore and his body gave out. Right inside this glass cage, his old office and hidden study. But she was still gone. He had taken her from me. Because I failed to act sooner. I let my heart die.”
He lets go of me. His fingers wrapped around my wrists are gone. He turns his back on me as if too pained to stand the conversation another second.
“The heart in the glass dome,” he says, “is her heart. I preserved it all this time. As a reminder of what happens when I fall in love. It’s best you stay away from me. You get the hell away while you have the chance. Leave.”
I watch in stunned silence as he slides open the glass door.
He’s letting me go.
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