“It’s your mother,” the Chairman said, and if Nate didn’t know better, he would swear his father was a little choked up. “I’m afraid she’s passed.”
The news was so unexpected it took Nate a few seconds to absorb what he’d just heard.
His mother was dead.
There was a tight feeling in his chest and in the back of his throat as he remembered the bright-eyed, laughing woman of his childhood. The woman who had always loved him unconditionally, or so he’d thought at the time. Many of his illusions about her had shattered when she’d abandoned him and his father to spend the rest of her days behind the walls of a retreat. Not once in all the years she’d been there had she ventured out. Not once since she’d entered the retreat had Nate seen her face in anything but a photograph or even heard her voice.
Ellie Hayes had effectively been dead to him for going on ten years now. So why did he feel like there were a thousand rubber bands constricting his chest, making it hard to breathe?
Breathing became even harder as Nate considered the timing of his mother’s demise. His head snapped up, and he squeezed the tumbler in his hand so hard he was lucky he didn’t shatter it and cut himself.
“You did this,” he growled at his father, taking an aggressive stride forward. “This is part of your vendetta, isn’t it? Or is it my punishment for leaking the information?”
Nate expected his father to respond in kind, with the anger Nate was always so good at triggering. Instead, the Chairman sighed and rubbed his eyes.
“There’s no vendetta, son.”
“Oh, sure. That’s why you’re forcing me to marry Agnes. And it’s just a coincidence that my mom died today.”
“It is a coincidence,” the Chairman said with a hint of heat in his voice. “She’s been fighting cancer for more than two years, and her condition had been steadily deteriorating for months.”
Nate shook his head as his face went cold. “No. You killed her. I know you did.”
“I can show you the medical records if you want. We were obviously estranged, but I still served as her next of kin.”
“I don’t believe it!” Nate insisted, wondering if sheer will could make it so. “If she knew she was dying, she would have … She would have…” He couldn’t force the words out past his hurt. “You killed her,” he finished lamely.
“I know it would be easier for you to believe that, but I’m sorry, Nate. Cancer killed her, not me.”
Nate blinked in surprise. His father never called him “Nate.” It was always “son” or “Nathaniel.” Only people who actually liked him called him “Nate.” It felt downright weird, and almost invasive, to have the Chairman call him that.
“I may be angry with you,” his father continued, “but you’re still my son. And though I know you don’t believe it, I do love you. The marriage arrangement is a political and economic necessity, not a punishment.”
“Why should I believe a word that leaves your mouth? And if Mom has had cancer for two years and you knew about it, why didn’t you tell me?”
“I didn’t think it would serve any purpose. She refused to see anyone. I wouldn’t even have known she was sick myself if the staff hadn’t contacted me.
“Your mother became … unbalanced after our falling out. I thought entering the retreat would be good for her, that maybe if she spent a few months there, she would heal. In the end, though, I think it was the worst thing she could have done. She could live there in perfect denial, and the more time passed, the more attractive that life of denial became. I have no doubt that in her heart, she loved you until the end, but she’d broken from her old life so thoroughly there was no coming back.”
There was a sheen in his father’s eyes, and he was breathing extra deep, as if to keep grief at bay. Even so, Nate didn’t believe him, sure the Chairman could summon the trappings of grief on demand if he wanted to.
“What really happened between you two?” Nate asked. He remembered the coldness and the distance entering his parents’ marriage, and toward the end, he remembered hearing them shouting at one another—always behind closed doors, and never quite loud enough for Nate to understand what they were fighting about.
When Ellie left for the retreat, she did so with minimal fanfare. The press—and Nate—had been told nothing about why she was leaving, beyond that she and the Chairman had had a “falling out.” There was rampant speculation, of course, the most popular theory being that there’d been infidelity involved. However, speculation was not fact.
Nate had asked his father countless times over the years about the disintegration of the marriage. His father had never answered, and Nate didn’t expect things to be different even now. But for once, his father surprised him.
“I was unfaithful to her, and she was incapable of forgiving me for it.”
The very personal admission was so surprising, Nate didn’t know what to say. He certainly had no interest in even thinking about his parents having a sex life, with each other or with anyone else. Theirs had, of course, been a marriage of state, and any happiness they may have experienced in the union was purely coincidental. Nate had the vague sense that they had loved each other once, but his only concrete memories were from the time after the strain entered their marriage, when the most positive word he could use to describe their feelings toward one another was indifferent.
If his mother really had fled to the retreat for the rest of her life over an infidelity, that spoke to a much deeper relationship between his parents than Nate had ever imagined.
The Chairman cleared his throat. “Your mother made it clear in her will that she did not want a full state funeral. Even in death, she wished to remain out of the public eye. The funeral will be held on Monday, at the retreat. Her wishes were that only friends and family attend, but I cannot afford to offend my top Executives during these difficult times. I’ll keep the guest list as small as possible, and of course the press will not be allowed on the grounds of the retreat. That is the best I can do to honor her wishes.”
Nate nodded, his feelings a jumbled mess. His father’s explanation that his mother had been “unbalanced” did nothing to lessen Nate’s hurt and anger over the fact that she hadn’t tried to see him, or even talk to him on the phone, before she died. He hadn’t realized until now that a part of him had always held out hope that she would eventually end her self-imposed exile. That she would leave the retreat and beg Nate’s forgiveness for having left him motherless for so long. That she would realize her love for her son was stronger than her hatred for her husband.
But that pleasant fantasy had died with her.
If ever he missed having Nadia in his life, it was now. She would understand his feelings in a way that no one else would, not even Kurt. She had been there for him when his mother had first left, and she had consoled him through the early years when he had stubbornly continued to hope his mother would come home, only to have those hopes dashed again and again.
“Will you make sure Nadia’s parents let her come to the funeral?” he asked, knowing he was tempting fate. No matter what his father said, Nate was convinced there was a vendetta in play, and revealing his desire to have Nadia there might be the best way to guarantee she wouldn’t be allowed to come. “No one knows that she’s not my fiancée anymore, and the press won’t be there. There’s no reason—”
“I’ll make sure she’s there.” If Nate didn’t know better, he would swear the look on his father’s face was one of concern, even care. “But try not to grow too dependent on her, son. We both know she will no longer be a part of your life once the engagement to Agnes is made official.”