Chapter 3: What Ellen Didn't Know
Ellen came downstairs at half past eight.
She was moving carefully, one hand on the railing.
The bruise on her arm had deepened overnight — darker at the center, yellowing at the edges.
She had covered it with a long sleeve, even though we were alone in the house.
She always did that.
Covered things.
Protected people from what they'd already done.
"You're up early," she said.
"Couldn't sleep."
She filled the kettle without asking if I wanted tea.
She already knew.
Forty-one years and she still knew before I did.
"Robert." She set two mugs on the counter.
"What aren't you telling me?"
I looked at her.
At the careful way she held her left arm.
At the small wince she tried to hide when she reached for the cabinet.
"Sit down, Ellen."
"I don't want to sit down.
I want you to talk to me."
"Please."
She sat.
I put the flash drive on the table between us.
She stared at it.
She didn't touch it.
"What is that?"
"Security footage from the venue.
From the bridal corridor."
The color left her face slowly, like water draining from a glass.
"Robert—"
"I've already seen it."
She pressed both hands flat on the table.
"You weren't supposed to see that."
"I know."
"I asked you not to—"
"Ellen." My voice came out quieter than I intended.
"You were on the floor.
He walked away."
She closed her eyes.
For a long moment neither of us spoke.
The kettle began to whistle.
She didn't move to take it off.
"He was under so much pressure," she said finally.
"The wedding, Cassandra's family, all of it—"
"Stop."
"Robert, he's our son—"
"He grabbed you by the arm and threw you into a wall.
And then he went back to his party." I kept my voice level.
"That is what happened.
I watched it."
Her chin dropped.
She looked at her hands on the table.
"I didn't want you to know."
"I understand that."
"I didn't want you to do something you couldn't take back."
"I've already done it."
Her head came up.
"What does that mean?"
"His access to the house is gone.
His office access ends today.
The car will be collected Monday.
I have appointments this week with the attorney and the trust administrator."
The silence that followed was different from the ones before it.
Heavier.
"Robert." Her voice was barely above a whisper.
"He's our son."
"He is.
And what he did to you is still true."
She looked at the flash drive for a long time.
Then she reached out and pushed it back across the table toward me.
"I'm not ready to watch it," she said.
"You don't have to."
"But I need to know—" She stopped.
Pressed her lips together.
Started again.
"Did Cassandra—"
"Yes."
One word.
She understood everything in it.
She stood up slowly.
Turned off the kettle.
Poured the tea without speaking.
Set my mug in front of me and kept hers in both hands, standing at the counter with her back to me.
"She called me cheap," Ellen said quietly.
"In front of Michael.
That's what she said.
That I made their wedding look cheap and tacky."
"I know."
"And he didn't say a word."
"No."
She turned around.
Her eyes were dry.
That was almost worse.
"He didn't say a single word to her, Robert.
He just stood there.
And then he—" She stopped again.
"I know what he did."
She nodded once.
Set her mug down.
"What happens now?"
"Now we wait for him to call again.
He already did this morning.
He laughed, Ellen.
When I told him what I'd done, he laughed.
He said I love you too much to follow through."
Something shifted in her expression.
Not anger.
Something quieter and more permanent than anger.
"He said that?"
"Yes."
She was quiet for a moment.
"Then he doesn't know you at all," she said.
She picked up her mug and walked out of the kitchen.
I sat alone at the table with the flash drive in front of me and my tea going cold.
My phone lit up with a new message.
Not from Michael.
From Cassandra.
*"Robert.
I think we need to talk.
Just the two of us.
Before this goes any further.
I can explain everything."*
May you like
I set the phone face down.
She could wait.
