The Rules of the Red - 2nd Edition |✓|

Chapter Twenty, Part Three - Bitter Pills

As I descended the staircase and saw Ethan and Paris come into view, it became obvious they were working hard to ignore each other from their opposite corners of the hall. They both looked up in unison as I made my appearance. Paris was only a word away from releasing her fury, while Ethan remained much more passive. He was here to make peace, while my mother had ridden in on a current straight from hell.

"Sorry to keep you waiting." I paused on the last step of the staircase and leaned against the banister. I smiled at Ethan, then addressed my mother. It was the second time I had officially met her, and also the first that I saw see her eyes. They were large like mine, but a light brown instead of green. While Ethan and I were both dressed in jeans and t-shirts, my mother flaunted slender legs in a black, pencil neck skirt, with Gucci heels, and a sleeveless, cream-colored blouse tucked into the skirt's high waist. Her long hair was pulled back into a high pony-tail, accenting her slender neck. She was a natural beauty with very little makeup, appearing much younger than I had expected. Except her arrogance and disdain took away from her youthful appearance, causing one to notice her callousness first, before her exquisite looks.

"We need to talk." Paris shot Ethan a look of icy reproach. "Preferably alone."

"Naomi--I was here first," Ethan replied, petulant. He folded his arms, unable to meet Paris' Medusa-like gaze. From the way she looked at him, it wasn't hard to picture him turning to stone.

"Ethan's my Champion, Paris. You might not be up to speed on what goes on during Pack meetings, but surely you knew that. Anything you have to say to me, you can say in front of him." I met her gaze and descended the last step.

"I beg to differ, Naomi. This is family business--"

"I'm sorry, Paris--was your discussion about killing your husband supposed to be private?" Ethan's eyes were wide and full of innocence. "Because if you're here to talk about how you paid off a couple of coroners to hide the truth about your husband's death, then I can just leave..."

The look of horror on Paris' face told me Ethan had successfully caught her off guard. "What? He's my Champion." I shrugged.

"You think you know everything. You think you know the truth--"

"It's in black and white." I said. "The proof is right there in your hands. You murdered him--"

"Is that what you think?" Her voice was soft as she stepped towards me. "That I murdered your father? That I could kill my own husband in cold blood?"

"How can you expect her to believe otherwise?" said Ethan. "You were never there for her. She doesn't know you like the rest of us do, Paris."

"True, Ethan. But a mother knows her daughter. If Naomi is capable of unraveling a pack of lies, then she is just as capable of discovering the truth."

"So what are you saying?" My smile was hard, bitter. "That the evidence is a lie? That you didn't really kill him?"

"As damning as the evidence appears..." Paris inspected the nails of her perfect, French manicure. "Yes. I had no part in my husband's death."

"Mimi, she's lying," said Ethan as they both looked to me. "Don't listen to her. Forget the police. I say we call the Elder right now--like we should've done from the start--and let her be a Hunter's problem."

"Oh, well then here, darling..." Paris rummaged in her small, white clutch to produce her phone, which she then extended to me. "Would you like to make the call? Or should I? I've got Charles on speed dial."

"Allow me to do the honors." Ethan snatched the phone. Meanwhile, my mother continued to merely stand there and smile. Smug, she crossed her arms over her chest as she waited for Ethan to dial the number.