Chapter 18 - The Pawn and the Queen
The rain fell steadily over the cobbled streets of Edinburgh as I walked toward Emma's school to pick her up. The golden streetlamps reflected in the wet slate, casting long, elegant shadows against the historic stonework.
My mind kept circling back to Mark's email.
Why had my mother protected Jessica so fiercely, even at the cost of her own survival? Why had she stood on that front porch, smiling with cruel satisfaction as she handed Disney tickets to random neighborhood kids while looking Emma dead in the eye and saying there were "none left"?
The answer, I realized, was simple and terrifying.
Evelyn didn't love Jessica because Jessica was good. Evelyn loved Jessica because Jessica was a mirror. Jessica was selfish, superficial, manipulative, and obsessed with appearances—all the traits Evelyn had spent forty years hiding beneath a veneer of church luncheons, floral aprons, and matriarchal piety.
I, on the other hand, had taken after my father: quiet, dutiful, hardworking. But unlike my father, I had refused to bend until I broke. When I stood up, the mirror cracked.
When I reached the iron gates of the school, Emma was already waiting in the covered pavilion, swinging her legs from a wooden bench while her teacher, Miss Abernathy, stood nearby holding an umbrella.
"Daddy!" Emma shouted, leaping up the moment she spotted my dark trench coat. She sprinted through the courtyard, launching herself into my arms with an impact that nearly knocked the breath out of me.
"Hey, munchkin," I laughed, catching her and lifting her high into the air. "How was art class?"
"We painted dragons!" she announced proudly, pulling a rolled-up sheet of thick watercolor paper from her satchel. "Mine is a blue dragon that breathes water instead of fire so it can put out burning houses."
"A blue water-dragon," I murmured, admiring the swirling blues and greens on the paper. "That’s brilliant, Em. That’s a dragon that protects people."
Miss Abernathy walked over, offering a polite, warm Scottish smile. "Mr. Miller, she had a wonderful afternoon. But I did want to mention—we had a rather odd telephone inquiry during the lunch hour."
My stomach tightened instantly. My smile froze. "An inquiry?"
May you like
"Yes," the teacher replied, lowering her voice slightly so Emma wouldn't hear over the rain. "A woman calling from the United States claiming to be Emma's grandmother. She asked to confirm Emma's enrollment and requested a copy of her daily schedule."
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