Chapter 12 - CECILY’S ACCOUNT
Cecily came to my apartment a week after I left the hospital.
She had moved out of our parents’ house.
Three suitcases.
One garment bag.
Nothing else.
“Can I stay here?”
I stared at her.
“Of course.”
She started crying before I finished the sentence.
Our mother had chosen Dad.
Not completely.
Not forever.
But enough.
She told Cecily that cooperating with auditors would “destroy the family.”
Cecily answered:
“Dad did that.”
Mom slapped her.
Not hard.
But hard enough.
Cecily packed.
That evening, the three of us ate takeout on the floor because our dining chairs had not arrived.
Caleb handed Cecily a carton of noodles.
She looked at him.
“I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“For Dad.”
“He isn’t you.”
“I still knew things.”
I waited.
“What things?”
Cecily stared at her food.
“He talked about your scars.”
My chest tightened.
“What did he say?”
“When men asked about you.”
“What men?”
“People he wanted you to date.”
I almost laughed.
Of course.
Dad had tried to arrange introductions for years.
Bankers.
Executives.
A senator’s son.
Most disappeared after one dinner.
“What did Dad say?”
Cecily looked ashamed.
“He told them you were emotionally fragile because of the fire.”
I felt something inside me go cold.
“He told one guy you needed someone ‘patient enough to overlook the damage.’”
Caleb set down his fork.
Cecily continued quickly.
“I told him to stop.”
“When?”
“After I heard it.”
“How old were you?”
“Twenty-three.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because you already hated being looked at.”
She began crying.
“I thought telling you would make it worse.”
That was the tragedy of our family.
Everyone hid truth because they claimed it would hurt.
Then the hiding became the injury.
I reached for her hand.
“You should have told me.”
“I know.”
“But thank you for telling me now.”
She nodded.
Then wiped her face.
“There’s something else.”
Of course.
“Dad tried to set Caleb up with me.”
I blinked.
“When?”
“Six months before your engagement.”
Caleb stared.
“What?”
“He invited me to dinner and said you were never going to want the Whitmore life.”
My stomach turned.
“What did he want you to do?”
“Flirt with you.”
Caleb actually laughed.
Cecily glared.
“It wasn’t funny.”
“I’m sorry.”
She looked at me.
“I refused.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because it was humiliating.”
“For you?”
“For all of us.”
Then she said:
“He told me if Caleb married you, he would eventually control both of you.”
That was the deepest mistake my father made.
He believed love created leverage.
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What he never understood was that healthy love does the opposite.
It gives people somewhere safe enough to stop obeying fear.
