Viviana doesn’t ask about where I’ve been. It’s obvious neither she nor Leo believes I went to the spa, but they don’t mention it. Something feels off. I can’t put my finger on what it is, but there’s a heaviness in the air. Every time Viviana looks my way, she looks as if she’s about to cry. Her face scrunches up and gets all blotchy, and then she tries to hide it by leaving the room. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think we were going to a funeral rather than a wedding.

When I get out of the shower, she’s sitting at the vanity. She’s staring into the mirror, not really looking at her reflection. “Is everything okay?” I ask, padding my way across the carpeted floor.

She startles, looking up at my reflection in the mirror. “Yeah, of course.” She lays on that smile again, the same one that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “Hey, would you mind if I did your hair? I’m pretty good with a curling iron.”

“More sister bonding? I’m always down for that.”

She motions me to sit, then gets to work, first blow drying my hair, then styling it. She stays quiet for the most part, even when I try to spark conversation. It’s odd considering she wasn’t this withdrawn yesterday, or even this morning on the train. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine,” she insists. “Just thinking about the wedding, that’s all.”

Someone shouts from outside the bedroom door. “Hey Viv, are you in there?”

“Come in!” she calls out.

The door slowly opens, a young girl peeking around it. There are simultaneous squeals of delight as Viviana and the girl race toward each other. I know who she is the minute I glimpse Carousel’s vibrant blue eyes set inside very obvious Serra features—Siena.

She’s several inches taller than Viviana, but that doesn’t stop my sister from picking her up off the floor and swinging her around. For the first time all night, there’s life in Viviana’s face again. She smooths Siena’s hair, looking over her. “It’s so good to see you.”

“You, too.”

They hug for several long seconds. It’s nice, seeing the two of them hug. They’re squeezing each other tightly, bouncing on their feet as they do, and both of them are wearing toothy grins.

Siena looks over Viviana’s shoulder, noticing me at the vanity. “Amelia—right?”

“Guilty.”

She drops her gaze to Viviana. “She looks just like you. How the hell did she not realize who you were while you we’re living in Florida? Is she blind?”

“She wasn’t aware she had siblings. Now be polite and go introduce yourself.”

Siena crosses the room, placing her hand on both hips as she studies me. She grins, showing off teeth no longer covered in braces like in the picture of her in the townhouse hallway. “I’m Siena. Nice to meet you.”

I smile back. “Hi there. I’m staying in your room actually—it’s a great room.”

“You’re an H.P. fan? That marks one point in your favor. Favorite character?”

“Dumbledore.” Duh.

“Favorite book?”

“The Prisoner of Azkaban.” Another duh.

She nods, considering my answers. “In that case, I guess we can be friends. I should admit, it’s going to be hard. Mum told me Casper is infatuated with you. Breaks my bloody heart, it truly does.” She lets out a long sigh. “I’m graduating this year, and I’d hoped he’d start noticing me.”

Viviana rolls her eyes. “You can nurse that broken heart while putting on a sweater, young lady. If your mum sees you in that dress, she’ll be so mad she’ll forget to say her vows, and then your parents will go on forever using me as their mediator.”

“Oh, come on. It’s not that bad.” She pulls up the top of her strapless, lavender dress, then pulls down the skirt. “Fine, get me a sweater.”

Viviana rifles through her suitcase. While she’s busy, Siena sits across from me, grinning mischievously. “So back to you and Casper…” She wags her brow.

Without looking up, Viviana scolds her. “Leave Milly alone. That’s none of your business.” She continues searching through clothes until she finds a simple black cardigan, cropped at the waist, and tosses it to Siena. “This should do.”

The young girl purses her lips into a pout. “I don’t get any details? I mean, that body. He has to be—”

“Siena!” Viviana snaps. “You don’t say things like that. Good God, you just met her.”

“Last time I checked, you get to know someone by asking personal questions.”

She has a point there, even if it’s being manipulated to excuse her bold curiosity.

“Questions about Casper are officially off limits—and no sexual questions either.”

Siena sighs. “How boring. This night is going to be so dull.”

“I highly doubt that,” Viviana mutters.

* * *

Around ten thirty, I text Casper to ask him what time he’s planning to arrive. His reply comes fast, but it’s brief.

Running late. I’ll meet you there.

Carousel gave all her guests a special missive upon check-in at the château with directions to the wedding’s mystery location. Just one more preventative measure to protect their privacy. I’m wearing Converses with my red chiffon dress, my heels tucked safely in my bag because we’ll be trekking through the woods to get there.

While I’m waiting for Viviana and Siena to finish getting ready, Leo slips into the living room, looking like he stepped out of a vintage ballroom in his slim-fit black tux, his dark hair combed back. “Ah, there you are. I need you to come with me.” He pulls back his sleeve to look at his watch. “We have half an hour. Just enough time to get this out of the way.”

“Get what out of the way?” I carefully pick myself off the sofa. “Where are we going?”

“Dad wants to meet you, remember? He’s here, just a few rooms down the hall.”

Oh, no. I’m not ready for this.

The whole brother sister thing was easy; they both showed up out of the blue. But knowing my father is here, waiting for me—I can’t do this.

Leo moves to leave, then realizes I’m still stuck in place. He turns around, looking me up and down. “You look nice,” he says, as if he’s just noticing.

“Thanks,” I reply, smoothing the skirt of my dress.

He tilts his head to the side. “Are you okay?”

I shake my head. “I’m not sure I can…” I swallow, then start again. “I didn’t even know I had a dad until…” Ugh. Forget this. Words just aren’t forming.

Leo lets out a breath. “You didn’t know about Vivvy or me either.”

“It’s not the same.”

“He’s just a man,” Leo reminds me, holding out his hand. “Flesh and blood. Just like us. Now take my hand, and let’s go see our dad.”

Slowly, I place my hand into his, trusting him. He somehow manages to guide me out into the hall, and we pass by door after door until we reach his door.

I feel dizzy.

Leo tucks my arm under his, keeping me from swaying. It’s like he knows I’m about to pass out.

He knocks, and then we step inside. The room has the same layout as ours, the same over-the-top décor. We head into the living room. And there he is.

My dad.

He’s shorter than I expected, maybe only an inch or two taller than me. He’s got the Serra coloring, dark hair and deep-set brown eyes, but that’s as far as our similarities go. His bulldog face is rough, almost weary, the hard life he’s lived showing in every line. His nose is crooked in the middle, and his body is thick with muscle. There’s not one soft thing about him. Just like Leo, he’s got the whole menacing, laser-eyed, scare-off-little-children-with-one-look thing down. And despite all of that, I feel a strange, unexpected desire to throw my arms around him and cry into his shoulder.

I remember him.

It seems crazy, but I do. I remember nuzzling my cheek against his beard. I remember his bear hugs. And before he speaks, I remember the timbre of his voice. “My little girl is all grown up,” he says softly. “It’s nice to see you, Mila. You’re lovelier than I could have imagined. You take after your mother, you know.”

I want to say something, but the words are lodged in my throat. To believe for so long that he was dead, and now to see him here, alive—as hard as I try, I can’t find my voice.

“How have you been settling into London?” he asks me.

“Fine.” One word. But hey, it’s better than nothing.

“Good. I’m glad to hear it.” He nods, looking once at Leo, and then steers his attention back to me. “There are some things that need to be said. Things you need to hear.”

Finally—a real conversation. And it’s coming from the one person I need to hear it from the most.

He sits on the sofa, patting the cushion beside him, motioning for me to do the same. I sit, and Leo takes a seat across from us in the armchair.

“I’m sure you have lots of questions.”

I’m sure I have lots of questions too, but at the moment, I can’t seem to make my voice or my brain work, so I simply nod.

“Let me start by telling you something I believe will answer most of them.” He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “When I sent you to live with your grandmother, it was back when life was more precarious for all of us. Several murders had taken place within months of each other, your mother’s being one of them. Everyone was terrified. Your grandmother wanted to hide, to create a new life some place away from New York. The constant state of paranoia, of looking over her shoulder, of living in fear—it got to her. She was constantly arguing with me and my brothers and sister. She was angry with Hugo because he’d just gotten Carousel pregnant, which meant he was bringing another baby into what she considered a cursed family. It was…well, it was all too much for her.”

He pauses to take a shaky breath. This is hard for him too. “Anyway, you were young enough to not remember the past. I knew a fresh start would be easiest to give to you. But when your grandmother agreed to take you, it was under the condition to cut all ties. It’s not what I wanted. You were the baby of the family, our adorable, rambunctious three-year-old. I’d hoped we could someday reconnect, but I also knew I couldn’t be selfish. Your best chance at a real life was to live one without looking back. If giving you that kind of life meant cutting ties, I’d find a way to be okay with that.”

He pauses again, allowing me a moment to absorb all of that. Part of me doesn’t want to believe Gran kept me from having a relationship with my father. But deep down, I know it’s true. Wolves. To her, they were always wolves.

I’d pinned so much of this on him; I never recognized Gran played just as big of a role.

“I’m not trying to make excuses,” my dad says, strengthening the resolve in his voice. “I don’t regret anything. You’re alive, and you’ve turned out to be a beautiful, intelligent young lady. If I had to do it all over again, I’d make the same choice. I wanted more for all of my children, which is why I sent your brothers and sister to London with Hugo when he made the move. There was too much death back in New York. Too much sadness. I’d hoped to remove you all from it for good.”

“You kept in contact with them,” I point out. “Why them, and not me?”

His gaze softens. “They were older. I knew they would remember me, and Hugo didn’t ask me to cut ties. Our arrangement was different.”

Meaning he took what he could get.

I twist the charms on my bracelet, struggling for the right words. “I loved Gran, but…there was always something missing. You should’ve kept us with you. That’s the life I would’ve chosen, if I’d had a choice. Sending us away didn’t save Junior, and who knows if it has really saved any of us. The only thing you accomplished was to tear us apart.”

I stand up, looking at Leo, expecting him to defend our dad. He doesn’t. I don’t know if it’s because he’s trying to stay out of this or if he agrees.

Both men stay quiet for several long moments. My dad takes a long, deep breath before speaking again. And when he does, he speaks very slowly, putting emphasis on every word. “I’m sorry you’re disappointed in me, Mila, but you have to understand what it was like back then. When your child finds his mother hanging from a ceiling fan, her vacant eyes wide open, all the warmth in her face gone, it changes you. I didn’t want any of my children exposed to that ever again. As a parent, I was faced with difficult choices. I made the best ones I knew how.”

I suck in a short breath. Leo’s looking away, trying to avoid eye contact. Oh, Jesus. It was him.

“Why weren’t you the one to take us somewhere new?” I ask, trying to understand. “Why weren’t you the one to give us new lives?”

“Because I couldn’t,” he says, almost helpless. “If I’d tried to hide with you, I’d never be able to keep searching for the person behind it all.”

“You could’ve run with us!”

“If I’d run, there would be no one left to stand for you. Or for the people who had died. For your mother. Someone had to stay and keep searching. My life was already public. I was the perfect choice.”

“And did it do any good?” I bite out, pressing my lips together.

“That’s not fair,” he says, sighing. “No one could’ve predicted how things would turn out. For all we know, had I made another choice, we’d all be dead by now.”

“Maybe. Maybe not. But we’re right back to where we started, aren’t we?”