“I always suspected that you were a liar, and now I have proof! You’re a lying gold digger, and I bet your mom is too!”
“What are you talking about?” Calliope asked, even as her stomach somersaulted in fear. Where was her mom?
Livya smirked. “Calliope, I was so inspired by your devotion to the hospital that I decided to make a donation in your honor, to the children’s wing.”
Calliope felt a cold dread gathering in her stomach.
“But when I called the hospital to make a donation, they had no idea who you were.” Livya feigned confusion. “They had no record of all your countless volunteer hours.”
Nadav frowned. Light from the windows streamed in great thick bars over the curlicues of the carpet, over the salt and pepper of his hair. “Calliope,” he said heavily. “All those times you said you were going to the hospital, where were you really going?”
Livya cut in. “To go meet up with Brice! She’s been putting on an act this whole time, don’t you see? She doesn’t care about philanthropy at all!” She rounded on Calliope. “I always thought there was something fishy about you. And it turns out I was right.”
Calliope didn’t argue, because for once, she couldn’t think of a lie to tell.
“What’s going on out here?” Elise glided calmly into the living room. She was wearing a simple white shirt with lace detail at the throat, making her look innocent and girlish. Calliope felt a measure of relief at the sight.
If anyone could fix this situation, it was her mother. There had never been a person alive, man or woman, that Elise couldn’t calm down. She was the world’s greatest living expert on bending people to her will.
“Elise,” Nadav said, and Calliope knew what was coming: He would punish Calliope, deprive her of whatever remaining freedoms she had, and she would never see Brice again. Fine, she could take it; she would take any abuse right now to spare her mom. Calliope squared her shoulders and lifted her head, ready to plead for forgiveness.
She never expected what Nadav said next.
“Have you been lying to me?” He was looking not at Calliope, but at her mom.
Elise hesitated—only for an instant, but a crucial one, because in that instant her face revealed the truth. “What do you mean?”
“Were you honest with me about who you are? About your past? Or were you telling me what you thought I wanted to hear?”
Calliope saw her mom teeter uncertainly on the edge between a lie and the truth. She landed on the truth.
“I—I may have exaggerated our charity work,” she stammered. “We didn’t travel the world as roving philanthropists.”
“So you moved here directly from London?” Nadav asked.
Elise was trembling. “We did travel the world for a few years. We just weren’t volunteering.”
“What were you doing, then? How were you supporting yourselves?”
Elise looked stricken. What they had been doing was shopping, eating at expensive restaurants, staying at the very top hotels, treating themselves to every creature comfort they could get their hands on. And they funded all of it by tricking people out of their money.
“We were seeing the world,” Calliope explained. “My mom showed me all the historical and cultural sights, taught me to appreciate diversity.”
Nadav ignored her. His eyes were still on Elise. “You made up all those years of volunteer work? Why? Was it just about the money?”
“Of course not!” Elise stepped forward to put a hand on Nadav’s arm. He recoiled as if scorched.
“You’re telling me you saw me at that party and lied about who you were because of my wit and personality? My money had nothing to do with it?”
Elise flushed. “Okay. I would be lying if I said the money wasn’t part of it—”
“Part of it?” he said, caustically repeating her words.
“That was only at the beginning! Everything is different now! I love you,” she persisted, “so much. I had no idea that I could ever love someone this much.”
“How am I supposed to believe anything you say?” Nadav’s voice was very cold and deliberate, and it was far more terrifying than if he had shouted. “You just admitted that you were lying to me about who you are.”
“I wanted to be someone you might fall in love with! Someone worthy of your love! I was afraid that you wouldn’t love the real me. Don’t you see?” Elise cried out. “Your love has actually made me better. I’m becoming that person, the woman you fell in love with. I’m right here.”
Nadav stared at Elise in blank horror. He stared at her like a man broken: as if he wanted to strip away her charm and her beauty, layer by layer, so he might finally truly understand her, the way that he once believed he did.
“You lied to me. Every morning and every night, with every breath, with every moment of laughter. It was all a lie.”
“No!” Elise’s voice was ragged with desperation. “It wasn’t a lie! I love you, and I know that you love me!”
“How can I love you when you’re a complete stranger?” Nadav said heavily. “I invited you to share my life, and yet I feel like I’m meeting you for the first time.”
Elise’s eyes were wide and round with anguish. “Please. I’m asking for your forgiveness, and I’m asking for another chance.”
Livya turned around to smile at Calliope, an empty, bitter smile that failed to reach her eyes. Calliope swallowed. She and her mom were as still as actresses frozen onstage before the lights go out.
Elise held out her hands, palms up, in a wordless gesture of appeal. “I love you,” she whispered. “Please, I’ll tell you the truth—we can start over—only please don’t say good-bye, not like this, not after everything we’ve shared.”
Nadav was pointedly looking away. “We’re broken,” he said quietly. “My trust is broken. I have no desire to sit here picking up the fragments and try to put them together again when we both know that it will never be the way it was.”
Elise’s frame shook with silent sobs. She’d screwed her eyes shut, as if by closing her eyes she might make this whole thing go away. Calliope couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen her mom cry—really cry, not the fake tears she could summon on command.
“I’ll leave the apartment to let you pack. You have twenty-four hours,” Nadav announced. “Do not be here when I return. Either of you.”
“Nadav,” Elise pleaded, but his face seemed to have been carved from stone.
“You should be ashamed of yourself. Have you even stopped to think what kind of example you are setting for your daughter, marrying me for my money, lying about who you are?” He gave a defeated sigh. “Livya, let’s go.”
“With pleasure.” Her eyes glinted with malice.
For a moment Calliope thought Elise was going to throw her arms around Nadav, beg him to change his mind. Instead she twisted her wedding ring off her finger and held it out toward him.
The flash of pain in his eyes struck the breath from Calliope’s chest. “That was a gift. It’s yours,” he told her, and then his expression became hard and closed-off again, and he and Livya were gone.
Calliope felt the aftershocks of what had just happened racing through her body. She couldn’t really breathe. “Mom . . .” she tried, at a loss for words. “I’m so sorry.”
Elise reached up to wipe at her eyes, smearing makeup down her cheeks. “Oh, sweetie. This isn’t your fault.”
“It’s completely my fault! You told me not to go out with Brice, and I did it anyway. If I had just listened to you, none of this would have happened.”
“No, Nadav was right. I’m the adult, and I need to take responsibility for the life I’ve built for us. This day would have come sooner or later. I just always hoped it would be later.” Elise sighed. “It’s time for us to go, sweetie.”
They were leaving New York. And this time, Calliope knew, they wouldn’t be coming back.
RYLIN
RYLIN HADN’T PLANNED on falling back in love with Cord so qu
ickly.
She’d wanted to be thoughtful and intentional about it, instead of tumbling into their relationship all over again. But then, she hadn’t exactly planned for it last time either. Maybe that was just the way love went—it was something that happened to you, and the best preparation you could hope for was the chance to take a deep breath before the wave of it crashed above you and you were in over your head.
“Thanks for coming with me tonight,” Cord said as they walked together through the inauguration ball.
Rylin felt herself color under his gaze and reached down reflexively to smooth the skirts of her gown. It had arrived this afternoon in an enormous purple Bergdorf’s box, complete with a satin bow.
“Absolutely not,” Rylin had protested when the delivery drone showed up. She wasn’t going to let Cord start sending her extravagant presents. But Chrissa had insisted that they at least open it, and once Rylin had seen the dress—an architectural cream-colored strapless one, with silver splattered over it, as if someone had spilled a vat of liquid stardust on its smooth silk surface—she couldn’t resist trying it on. It fit her exquisitely, the corseted torso giving way to a narrow floor-length skirt.
One dress can’t hurt, she had concluded. After the day she’d had, being questioned by the police about Mariel’s death, Rylin didn’t have the strength to resist something this beautiful. Not that she’d told the police anything; she had nothing to tell, really. But the experience had still unnerved her.
She knew she should reach out to the others, to Leda and Watt and Avery, to ask if they had been questioned too. She told herself she would do it later. Right now, in this moment, all she wanted was to stand here with Cord, feeling beautiful.
“Promise you won’t send me any more dresses,” she pleaded, though she knew her words were weakened by the fact that she was standing here wearing one.
“Only if you promise to stop looking so gorgeous in them,” Cord replied, and Rylin couldn’t help smiling.
She glanced around the expanse of city hall, filled with stylish waves of people, teenagers and adults all wearing smart angled tuxedos or shimmering gowns. Holographic pennants snapped along the walls in a nonexistent breeze. She kept thinking that she didn’t belong here, no matter how much she looked the part.
Then her eyes would slide back to Cord, and her blood would rise up light and buoyant in her veins, and Rylin knew that the setting didn’t matter. She belonged with Cord, wherever that was.
“Will you come over to my apartment tomorrow?” she asked, reaching for his hand. She didn’t mind being here, at a formal black-tie party, but it couldn’t all be like this. When was Cord going to come down to the 32nd floor to meet her friends and Chrissa?
“Sure,” he said easily. Rylin had the sense that he wasn’t quite listening. But then he nodded toward the dance floor, and Rylin decided to let herself be distracted.
“Want to dance, now that I’m so good at it?” Cord grinned.
“I didn’t realize you were ever bad at it,” Rylin countered.
“I didn’t realize either, until I started taking dance at school.” Cord laughed as Rylin’s eyebrows shot up. “You didn’t know? This year I’ve been expressing my deep and unshakable love of dance through Dance 101: Introduction to Choreography.”
Rylin stifled a snort. “You’re a ballerina now?”
“The correct term is ballet dancer, thank you very much,” Cord corrected. “This is what I get for dropping holography when all the other arts classes are full.”
Rylin wondered if Cord had dropped holography because of her—because he didn’t want to see her day after day—but it felt too self-centered to ask, and besides, it was all ancient history. “Don’t worry,” he went on. “I can’t promise that I’ll teach you all my epic dance moves, but at least one or two.”
Rylin tilted her head in amusement. “What makes you think I don’t have some epic dance moves of my own?”
They spun around on the dance floor until Rylin was breathless with exertion. Eventually the band paused to take a break. “Want to sit down?” Cord asked, leading her to a table where several of his friends were already clustered.
Rylin had met a lot of them last year, but they didn’t seem to remember her, so Cord went ahead and reintroduced her around the table: Risha, Ming, Maxton, Joaquin. Rylin smiled, but the only one to smile back was Risha. Ming had a glazed-over look to her eyes, having evidently decided that it was more entertaining to read messages on her contacts. Rylin wondered if any of them even recognized her from school.
Oddly enough, she found herself wishing that Leda were here. At least Leda would have engaged with her.
“Cord, we’ve been looking for you. This party is unbearably lame,” Joaquin announced.
Rylin was taken aback by the blasé attitude. This party was lavish and expensive and wasn’t even age-scanning at the bar. What could Joaquin have to complain about?
“Can’t you host the after-party?” Joaquin wheedled.
“I always host the after-party. Can’t someone else step up to the plate for once?” Cord said easily.
The table erupted in an immediate chorus of excuses: “Don’t look at me; you know my place is nowhere near big enough. We didn’t even have room to host the soccer team!”
“My parents are cracking down on me ever since I got a D in calc this semester.”
“I definitely can’t host anyone, not after you guys threw up in the hot tub last time.”
“That was fun, wasn’t it?” Risha said almost wistfully.
“What about you, Rylin? Do you think you could get away with it?” Maxton had turned to her with a friendly smile. At Rylin’s incredulous expression, he hurried to add, “We won’t invite that many people. And we’ll drone-drop all the booze, of course. All you’d have to provide is the space.”
Seriously? Rylin wanted to ask, but she knew Maxton wasn’t kidding. He had no idea who she was or where she lived. In his own way, he probably thought he was being inclusive by asking Rylin if she didn’t mind hosting the after-party.
For a perverse moment she imagined saying yes, dragging all of these rich kids down to the 32nd floor to squeeze awkwardly around her kitchen table. Now that would be an experience.
“Fine, fine, I’ll host,” Cord cut in, reaching one hand across the back of Rylin’s chair to give her a silent squeeze.
“I’m going to get a drink,” she said faintly, to no one in particular, and started away from the table. She heard Cord follow quickly on her heels.
“Rylin, what is it?” he asked, reaching for her arm. She whirled on him, her cheeks flushing. “I’m sorry. Maxton didn’t mean any harm by that question.”
“I know,” she sighed. “I just don’t fit in with that group. Why do they need to have an after-party anyway? What’s wrong with the very expensive, beautiful party we’re at right now?”
“It’s just how they are,” Cord said with a self-deprecating smile, as if that explained everything.
“Exactly! All they ever do is talk about the next party. The next excuse to all get together and get drunk, and plan another expensive event.” She let out a frustrated breath. “Don’t you ever talk about anything else?”
“I know those guys can be kind of silly and immature, but I’ve known them my whole life. I can’t just cut them out.”
Actually, you can, Rylin wanted to say, but she bit back the words. There was no use fighting over this. “Let’s just forget the whole thing.”
“I promise this will be the last after-party I host,” Cord assured her with a smile. “And tomorrow I’ll make it up to you. We can go that brunch place with the raspberry biscuits you love. Or somewhere else,” he said quickly, confused by her expression.
Rylin hadn’t realized that he was still planning on having the after-party. Or that once again he would try to smooth over a disagreement with money and things.
“I’m going to get that drink,” she said vaguely, starting back toward the bar, but he shook
his head.
“No, let me. Please,” Cord insisted. “You stay here and listen to the violinist. You’ll really love her.”
A violinist had stepped onstage, momentarily replacing the band. She perched on a delicate wooden chair, looping her feet under the bottom rung. And then she started playing, and Rylin forgot that she was sort of irritated with Cord, forgot about anything at all except the music.
It began low and plaintive, full of a longing so sharp that Rylin felt it like a pain between her own ribs. Dimly, she was aware of Cord retreating toward the bar, but Rylin stayed where she was, transfixed by the haunting, tragic music. It put into words what words failed to do.
She remembered the night this past summer when she and Hiral had gone to an outdoor concert together in Central Park. It had been Hiral’s idea. Maybe you’ll get some inspiration for your holos, he’d suggested. Rylin had been touched by his thoughtfulness.
She wondered what Hiral was doing right this moment. He was just so very far away. She felt a sudden urge to check on him, make sure that he was all right.
Rylin muttered to her contacts to do a quick i-Net search for Undina. She immediately landed on its home page, filled with sweeping photos of the ocean, the massive man-made city floating peacefully above it like a lily pad. Hiral was fine, she assured herself. He would be happy there.
Then a familiar name caught her eye. Mr. Cord Hayes Anderton. The next row, Mr. Brice August Anderton.
They were both listed on Undina’s board of directors.
At first Rylin told herself that it was a mistake. This must be another Cord Hayes Anderton. Before she could help it, she’d tapped the link on Cord’s name, to read how he and his brother had inherited their seats from their parents, who were founding investors in Undina. They were nonvoting members until they turned twenty-one, but the board was delighted to include them, in recognition of all that their parents had done. . . .
Rylin swiped her tablet off and leaned forward, feeling sick. Was Cord really on the board of Undina, the place Hiral was now working? Was that just an ironic cosmic coincidence, or did Cord have something to do with Hiral’s departure?
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