Sins of the Mother

"Sit down," Alaric commanded, crushing the burning tip of his cigarette into the crystal tray on the table.

He did not glance up from the glass screen in his hand. The cold light of the tablet carved sharp shadows across his jaw, making him look more like a judge than the man who had shared a breakfast table with my family for years.

"What?" I asked.

"Sit down," he repeated in a voice that left no room for debate.

I pulled out the leather armchair to his right and sank into it, crossing my arms over my ribs. I stared at his profile, unable to hide the irritation buzzing under my skin. "I told you where she went, but that was never an invitation for you to hurt her."

My mother had her flaws, but she had raised me. I never wanted blood on my hands.

Alaric tapped the glass screen, his expression flat and unreadable. "You knew your mother was cheating on me with different men."

"Different men?" I asked, forcing my voice to stay level.

He slid the tablet across the polished mahogany table until it stopped right in front of my hands. I hesitated before looking down.

A heavy knot formed in my stomach. The display showed a gallery of surveillance photographs taken inside dimly lit hotel rooms. In every single frame, my mother was sprawled across unmade beds with different partners. Some were younger guys with athletic builds, others were older men in tailored suits. The angles left nothing to the imagination. The sheer volume of photos felt like a slap across my face.

Heat rushed up my neck and settled into my cheeks. I stared at the screen, flooded with humiliation. There was no way to defend what I was looking at. My mother was reckless, but seeing the undeniable proof laid out like a criminal case file made me want to shrink through the floorboards.

Alaric leaned back against the sofa, his cold eyes fixing directly on mine. "What do you have to say about this?"

I shifted my gaze to the edge of the table, avoiding his stare. "I have nothing to say."

"You covered for her this whole time," he stated, his tone dropping an octave.

"No!" I snapped my head up.

One of his dark brows arched in silent challenge. "No?"

"No. I never covered for her. I never lied for her affairs."

Alaric leaned forward, his knuckles resting on the edge of the table. "Then explain why you kept your mouth shut until yesterday. You watched her cheat and said nothing."

My heart thumped against my ribs. I glanced around the lower living area, checking the empty archways to make sure Mom was nowhere within earshot. If she found out I had given her up, she would despise me for the rest of my life.

"I didn't tell you anything about her affairs," I muttered, glaring at him.

"What was that?"

"I told you to go look for her. That's all I did."

"And why did you tell me to look for your mother?"

"Because I missed her," I lied, the excuse tasting sour on my tongue.

Alaric let out a dry scoff. He saw through the excuse in a fraction of a second. I was terrible at lying under pressure, and he had spent decades reading people for a living.

He fixed me with an icy stare and delivered his verdict. "Your mother will stay locked inside my private suite until further notice. You are forbidden from seeing her, and she is forbidden from seeing you until I decide her punishment is over."

I scrambled to my feet, my chair scraping hard against the hardwood floor. "Are you insane? You cannot just lock her up. She is your wife, not your prisoner."

Alaric ignored my outburst. He picked up his phone, rose from the sofa, and walked toward the grand staircase with steady, deliberate steps.

I rushed after him, taking the stairs two at a time to catch up. He did not slow down, forcing me to match his brisk pace as we climbed toward the upper landing.

I caught his shoulder on the landing. "Tell me you are joking. Holding her captive is madness. You cannot actually do this."

Alaric bared his teeth, his jaw tight with suppressed rage. "I am not joking. She is getting the exact consequence she earned. If I let her wander free, she will run straight to another stranger's bed. She goes through men like cheap clothes."

I shouted after him, frantic to break through his cold barrier. "That gives you no right to cage her like an animal. She needs fresh air. She needs—"

He cut in sharply, not even turning his head. "She will be in my bedroom, under my supervision. She will not be alone."

He reached the end of the corridor and turned down the private west wing. I hurried behind him, determined to stand in his way, but three large security guards stepped out from the shadows near the double doors.

Alaric slipped inside the master bedroom without looking back. Before I could reach the brass handle, the three guards shifted shoulder to shoulder, forming an impassable wall of dark suits.

"Step back, Miss Noelle," the tallest guard said.

I tried to jump and peer over their broad shoulders. "Mom! Mom, can you hear me?"

No sound came from inside the room. Panic clawed at my chest.

"Mom!" I yelled again, louder this time.

The heavy oak door cracked open an inch, and Alaric's muffled voice drifted through the gap. "She cannot answer you, Noelle. She is sound asleep."

I gripped the edge of the doorframe with both hands. "I need to see her. Let me see her with my own eyes."

The door pulled open just enough to grant me a glimpse inside. My mother lay motionless on the massive king-sized bed, buried under the white duvet, knocked out cold. Her face was pale, her breathing faint from across the room. She looked lifeless against the dark velvet headboard.

Before I could take another breath, the door slammed shut. The latch clicked into place, followed by the turn of a heavy deadbolt.

Three days crawled past in agonizing silence.

The master suite remained sealed. Meals were carried up on silver trays by staff and handed through a crack in the door, but my mother never crossed the threshold. The estate felt suffocating, wrapped in a thick layer of dread that kept every servant whispering in corners.

I spent those three days pacing the hallway outside the bedroom, ignoring the stiff postures of the security guards stationed beside the door. Every hour felt like a week. My mind ran wild with horrible scenarios, wondering what kind of psychological torment Alaric was inflicting on her behind closed doors.

On the morning of the fourth day, the deadbolt finally slid back.

The door swung open, and Alaric stepped into the corridor, dressed in a sharp charcoal suit. He adjusted his platinum cufflinks, his expression as calm and detached as ever.

I surged forward and grabbed his forearm, desperate to keep him from walking away. "Please. Let me see her for a minute. Please, Alaric."

He stopped walking and looked down at my fingers clutching his sleeve. "What do you want, Noelle?"

I tightened my grip on his dark sleeve. "I know she made a terrible mistake. I know she hurt you, but keeping her isolated like this will break her mind. Let me check on her."

He paused for a long moment, calculating his decision. "Five minutes."

"Five minutes?" I asked, my eyes wide.

He waved a dismissive hand toward the security guards. "Take it or leave it."

I darted past him and slipped through the doorway, shutting it behind me.

The room smelled faintly of cedar, expensive cologne, and stale air. The heavy silk curtains were drawn shut, keeping the space drowned in half-light.

My mother sat at the far edge of the king mattress.

My breath caught in my throat when I saw her. She looked hollow, like a ghost of the glamorous woman who had left the house a few days ago. Her cheekbones stood out sharply against her gaunt face. Deep, purplish bruises circled her eyes, revealing nights of sleepless misery. Her silk robe hung loose on her shrinking frame.

"Mom," I whispered, dropping to my knees on the rug in front of her. I took her cold, trembling fingers between my palms.

Her head jerked up at my voice, and fresh tears welled in her bloodshot eyes. "Noelle..."

I inspected her arms and throat for physical marks. "Are you hurt? Did he lay a hand on you? Tell me right now. Should I call the police? I will call them right now if he laid a finger on you."

My mother pulled her hands from my grip and buried her face in her palms. She wept, her shoulders shaking with bitter torment before the truth spilled out. "He doesn't touch me, Noelle. He refuses to let me near him. He won't look at me, he won't sleep with me, and he pushes me away every time I beg. He used to be obsessed with my body, but now he treats me like filth. He doesn't want me anymore."