Chapter 24

T here are no audible gasps of shock. No cries of outrage or tears of confusion. I slide my gaze around the room, taking in their pitying expressions. They knew. Every single one of them knew. It should hurt, should stab me in the gut, but these strangers are just that. They mean nothing to me. As sad as it is, even Madeline's deceit doesn't hurt the way it should.

Maybe I'm broken. Numb. After everything that's happened in the last twenty-four hours, maybe I've lost the capacity to care.

But as I finally find the courage to turn my attention to Daniel and Evelyn, I know I'm a liar. Red-hot pain spears me in the gut, twisting and throbbing like a knife. For years, they've been my only family, the only two people to truly have my back.

And they knew.

Knew who my parents were. Knew about Madeline and my past. They knew, and they said nothing. Did nothing. Why? Was I some sort of sick pet project? An experiment?

Did they ever really care about me at all?

"Isabella," Daniel murmurs, his voice cracking. "We're so sorry, sweetheart."

"We would have told you if we could." Evelyn wipes away at her tears and nods, giving me a look full of so much devastation, my heart cracks. "If it were safe for you to know, we would have explained the second we took you into our care."

And goddamnit, despite my anger, my heartbreak, I feel bad for them. More than that, I believe them.

"Wait, wait, wait," Hunter shouts, shoving to his feet.

My head snaps his direction just as he sways, gripping the table for balance. I scramble to drag him back into his chair, but he gently bats me away.

"Hold the fuck on. Are you saying that not only are you not her actual mother…" He gives Madeline a look so severe, I actually wince. Then he turns that anger to Daniel and Evelyn. "But you two have known this entire time who she really is? Where she came from? And lied to her?"

"We didn't lie," Daniel corrects softly, glancing at Madeline. "And we were sworn to secrecy."

"For your safety," Evelyn quickly tacks on. "Ella. Everything we've done since you were born has been to keep you safe."

Hunter chuckles, but there's no humor to it. "Safe? You think she was fucking safe all these years? You know nothing!"

Oh, shit.

"What are you talking about?" Madeline asks, speaking for the first time in minutes. She clears her throat, her brows drawn in tightly. She flicks her gaze from Hunter to me. "What's he talking about, Skye?"

I let the name slip, not having the energy to correct her. Not anymore.

Reaching out, I grip Hunter's arm, dragging his attention to me.

"Hunt," I whisper, emotions making me dizzy. "It doesn't matter. It's fine." Telling them won't solve anything, won't make the past hurts disappear.

"It's not," he growls. "You went through hell and they were right fucking here. Doing what? Waiting until you were finally happy to snatch you up and ruin everything?"

A few arguments start up around the room, but I'm too busy struggling to breathe to pay attention. My heart hammers in my chest and whooshes through my ears. He's right. Fuck. He's right. God, I was so happy.

Breathe, Ella. None of it matters right now.

A bottle of water suddenly appears before my hazy eyes and I blink up at the person who delivered it. I'm surprised to find the man from before with a heavy accent. He smiles, pressing the drink into my palm.

"Hold in there, love," he murmurs. "Their voices will grow weak long before yours."

And then he's dropping into his seat and leaning in to speak quietly with Steve. I pick the bottle up and take a slow drink, using the distraction to calm my racing mind. The man shoots me an approving smile, and his friend winks at me.

Well, at least I have two allies.

"Are you okay?" Hunter asks softly. "Do you want to leave?"

Yes. Yes, I really fucking do, but I can't.

"Drink this." I pass him my water, ignoring his question.

He sighs at my sharp look, but drinks the water, finishing it in two gulps. Two more bottles slide across the table and we give the men a grateful smile.

"No. I'm not alright," I whisper. "But I'm not leaving without answers."

He gives me a long look and nods sharply. "Then give ‘em hell, baby."

I release a slow breath and push to my feet, ignoring my shaking legs. A few people notice me, silencing their side conversations. It doesn't take long for every head to turn my way. I feel Evelyn and Daniel's attention riveted to my side, but I don't look at them. I can't. I'm too raw.

Instead, I turn to Madeline.

"You're not my mother?" Because it never escaped me that she refused to answer me before.

She shakes her head, her delicate jaw tightening.

It feels like I've been kicked in the chest, but I shove the feeling down. Later. I can fall apart later.

"Are Miles and Char my birth parents?"

"Yes," she confirms quietly. "When I arrived at their home, I was escorted into a secure office. Miles and Charlotte were terrified. Something had happened that had clearly spooked them enough to go to incredible lengths to keep you a secret."

I swallow hard. At some point, I'd figured out the truth, but hearing it stated so plainly is an entirely different thing. It hurts in ways I didn't think possible.

Parents.

I had parents.

And I watched them die.

Nausea swirls in my stomach, threatening to rise, but I choke it back just like I'm choking back everything else.

"You had no idea Aunty—" I squeeze my eyes shut. Fuck. Fuck! Not Aunt. Mom . "Char was pregnant?"

A hand presses against my back, and I know instinctively it's Hunter's. His solid warmth grounds me, giving me the strength to open my eyes.

Madeline gives me a sympathetic look. "I had no idea about your existence until that moment."

"Why would they want to hide Ella?" Hunter asks. "And how did you help them? By pretending to be her birth mother?"

There's a thread of uncertainty in his voice, as though he doesn't believe Madeline. I understand his concern–the story is far-fetched. But from the childhood I can remember, there was always a level of secrecy. A feeling of deep-seated fear that never left our home. What would have my parents so afraid they'd choose to pretend to not be my parents at all?

"Yes, that's exactly what they asked me to do," she confirms. "I moved into their home and together, we concocted a cover story that easily explained away your existence. Charlotte had been having trouble with her pregnancy, so she'd already been keeping mostly to herself. When I suddenly showed up, pretending to be a single mom on my own, needing money and a place to live, it gave us the perfect cover."

My throat burns with unshed tears, and I take a moment to breathe through the pain. If not for Hunter's steady touch, my knees would probably buckle.

"I don't understand," he mutters. "Who the hell are Ella's parents? Why would they need to go to such extreme lengths to hide her?"

Evelyn clears her throat delicately, drawing my attention.

"Your mother is an incredibly important and powerful woman, sweetheart," she says gently. "And she was my best friend."

Shock has me rocking back on my feet, and I drop into my chair. She gives me a sad look and wraps her hands around Daniel's, resting it on the table between them. He weaves his fingers through hers and squeezes.

They're united. A team.

Even now.

Suddenly, I feel like an outsider looking in. There was a short time after that day on the bridge when I'd finally gotten the help I needed, that I felt like one of them. A Hudson. But now, it's all gone.

I hate it.

"Miles and Char were our best friends," Daniel agrees, giving me a soft smile. "Before you were born, they asked us if we'd like to be your godparents, and we agreed."

"Happily," Evelyn tacks on, grinning through her tears. "They tried for a baby for years. They were so excited when Char found out she was pregnant." She suddenly stands and reaches across the table, gripping my hand firmly. "No matter what happens, you need to know you were wanted, Isabella. You were wanted more than anything and cherished above all else. I know nothing makes sense, but don't forget that. Your parents loved you so much."

A small sob bursts from me, and I quickly let her go to cover it. Understanding fills her features as she falls back into her seat.

"I don't mean to be inconsiderate." Hunter grunts, adjusting the tight collar of his borrowed shirt. "But if you're her godparents, why did Madeline raise her? And when she was in the hospital, why the hell wasn't it either of you who took her in instead of that fucking—"

"Hunt," I interrupt sharply, shaking my head. "Leave it."

"Ella—"

"No." I slash a hand through the air. "I don't want to get into it right now."

I meet his gaze, showing him exactly how close I am to shattering. If we have to rehash how bad things were, I'll break.

His shoulders drop and he winces in pain, rubbing at his hidden bandages. The reminder of what he did for me, stepping in front of a bullet, saving me, is the push I need to focus. Everything else can wait.

"We didn't want to leave you," Evelyn says, drawing me back to the room. "I swear. But when the Circle fell apart, we had no other choice. There were only a few of us left. We had no home, no money, no resources, and we were on the run. We went underground to pick up the fallen pieces. To mourn our losses and heal the wounded. We thought you were safest in that hospital. Hidden. The plan was always to come get you, go away with you until the threat was eliminated, but then…"

She trails off, turning toward Madeline. The look she gives her is closed off, probably difficult to decipher for some. But I know Evelyn. Have lived with her for the better part of my life. It's in the glossiness of her blue eyes. The slight pinch between her brows and tension in her jaw.

Evelyn is sad.

Devastated, even.

Silence fills the room once more, but this time, it's weighted. Everyone's attention is fixated on who I can only assume is their leader of some sort. Most of the people around the table have expressions matching Evelyn's.

Madeline shifts, looking uncomfortable as hell.

"But then," she drawls, averting her gaze. "I was taken."

Taken? Who the hell would take her?

Evelyn's words replay through my mind, but everything is fuzzy, like I'm moving through tar.

The Circle.

Why does that sound so familiar? Flashes of the last night I remember seeing Char and Miles alive flow through my mind. Something about them feels familiar, almost like déjà vu. Like I'd heard the story before seeing it for myself.

My brows furrow.

"A gardener had been working outside when the explosion happened," Madeline continues. Her gaze is distant, her mind clearly somewhere far away. "He saw you get hurt, heard the screams and chaos inside the house, and knew he had to get you to safety. But Jonah was a part of the family. His association to Charlotte wasn't a secret. If anyone had seen him with you, they could discover your connection to us. You'd have been in danger."

This time, it's me who scoffs, surprising everyone including myself. "More danger than I'd been in at that hospital, broken and alone? I was a child, Madeline."

I expect her to snap back at me, but instead, she gives me a sad look and nods. "You have no idea how much worse things could have been."

"Who the hell is the Circle?" Hunter asks, clearly growing impatient. I don't blame him.

"The Inner Circle was once made up of ten families. Beyond them, there were over a hundred others who kept everything running. Employees, like Jonah and their families, children. People who'd been loyal to Charlotte, whether because they genuinely loved and supported her, or because of a debt owed to her late father." Her gaze slides around the room as her arms open, gesturing to those surrounding us. "This is the new Circle. Everyone around you has a job, a specialty they bring to the table. But more than that, they're a family."

"And now, we belong to you," an brown-haired man to my left says, speaking for the first time. He gives me a kind smile. "My name is Maximus. I was your mothers accountant. I knew her for many years. I'm truly sorry for your loss."

I swallow hard, and jerk a nod. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

"Why are you here?" Hunter asks brusquely. I shoot him a wide-eyed look and he clears his throat. I don't miss his wince of pain. "I'm sorry. That came out wrong. If you were Madeline's accountant, why are you…"

He trails off, gesturing to the room awkwardly. Maximus doesn't take offense, simply smiling.

"How does a simple accountant land a chair at a table this important?" He smiles, but there's deep pain behind his eyes. "Because there weren't enough of us remaining to fill the seats left behind by the ghosts of our loved ones."

Suddenly, Gage's voice surrounds me, the timber so deep it nearly sends shivers down my spine.

"The Circle was composed of avid supporters of the Moreau's. But it all fell apart the night of the explosion. Everyone fled, hid. Now they've either relocated or have died."

As if his words have unlocked something I'd kept hidden, more memories start to trickle through my foggy mind. Everything around me spins, and I suck in a sharp breath, palming my throbbing head. My palms sweat, my heart thunders in my chest. I can vaguely hear the frantic note of familiar voices, but I can't focus, it's too late, I'm too far gone. Flickers of random memories pulse through me, one after another like a macabre slideshow.

A treehouse.

A tiny blonde boy with glasses, sad eyes, and bruises.

"Hi," he murmurs with a sweet blush. "I'm Alec, but my friends call me Stone."

"What do you want me to call you?"

"Whatever you want." He adjusts his glasses and scoots over, making room for me in the treehouse. "What's your name?"

Holding out my hand, I give him a big smile. "You can call me Sk—" My mouth snaps shut. Aunty Char said I'm never allowed to tell anyone my name. It's not safe. But he told me his, and not saying anything back is weird.

"Do you speak French?" I ask. His face scrunches up and he shakes his head. I grin. Good. "Call me Cielo."

Oh my god.