When Mateo said they were ready for us, he wasn’t kidding—and by “they,” he meant Val and Eden. He’d called them the way to Brody’s with explicit instructions on what to have ready for us at the Aloft Hotel in downtown Houston. By the time we arrived, my stomach was already in knots.

Even after a few hours of sleep, I felt no better. While Mateo got ready in the main room, I fought with the tie on my wrap dress as Eden fussed with a stray hair that had escaped out of my brown wig. Just as she got it tucked back in, it popped back out.

“I look ridiculous,” I said, collapsing against the sink.

To her credit, Eden didn’t seem offended. In fact, she leaned next to me on the counter and smiled. “There’s no worse betrayal than that of a parent.”

“You sound like you know from experience.”

She gave me a sad smile and patted her belly. “This little guy doesn’t have any grandparents either, Leighton. That’s not by accident. We’re taught to honor thy mother and father, but where’s their rule? They’re supposed to love and protect us at all costs. When they don’t honor their commitment, we’re no longer bound to honor ours.” Squeezing my hand, she walked out and closed the door behind her.

Turning around, I let her words sink in. The longer I stood there, the less nervous I felt and my heart filled with overdue revenge.

“Checkmate,” I announced to the strange woman in the mirror.

The JW Marriott was a short six-minute walk from the Aloft Hotel. Our choice of meeting places wasn’t by accident. We needed quick and easy access both inside and outside the hotel. Although we weren’t guests, Val had secured us keys to the side entrance, which had been staked out and verified as unguarded. Gaining access to the room wouldn’t be a problem. Unlike a traditional campaign event, this was a press conference and authorization wasn’t required.

A fatal mistake on her part.

As we walked toward the enormous banquet room, the sound of her voice boomed over the microphone, filtering into the hallway. I felt myself tense. Apparently so did Mateo, because he gave my hand a reassuring squeeze. Absorbing his strength, I nodded, and we walked inside, blending in with the crowd on the outskirts of the room.

My mother was in her element. When the spotlight was on her, she pulled out all the stops. Fake tears flowed down her face, and she even managed a few wobbles in her voice.

Aw, how sweet. A performance dedicated to me.

“People of Houston, I stand before you as a victim with a bleeding heart wanting to heal the wound that’s been carved in the soul of our community by evil. As you may have heard, yesterday, Emilio Reyes, owner of Caliente Cantina and who’s now known to have been head of the Carrera Cartel’s Houston sector, murdered my late husband’s parents then kidnapped and murdered my daughter and my granddaughter. He used them to lure me to a secluded location where I can only assume he planned to kill me too.”

A gasp rippled over the crowd.

My mother held up a hand. “It’s frightening to realize that evil like this lived and worked right under our noses. I know you’re asking yourselves, ‘why, Mayor Donovan? Why such a vicious attack on your family?’ I’ll tell you. Because I stood up against the Carreras. Because my late husband stood up against them. Because my son fought on the side of what is just and right. Because my daughter saw the good in a boy instead of the evil in the man.”

I was at a loss. I couldn’t buy enough shovels to dig my way out of the pile of shit she’d just flung.

“Fucking bitch,” I muttered under my breath.

“I have to hand it to her,” Mateo chimed in. “I’ve never seen someone talk out of their ass without bending over.”

Dabbing her eyes, my mother put a tremble in her hand as she took a sip of water. “I’d like to introduce my new campaign manager, Carl, who’ll give you the information we have while I collect myself. I do need a moment, if you don’t mind.” She made sure to look extra devastated while making her way toward the restroom.

“I need a moment too, if you don’t mind.” I mimicked, turning toward the door.

Squeezing my hand again, Mateo placed a light kiss on my forehead. “You do what you have to do. I’ll take care of everything else.” Tossing the flash drive in his hand, he scanned the room, his eyes settling on the sound system and laptop Val had secured for us in a far corner.

The ladies’ room wasn’t huge, which benefitted me. Three stalls, two sinks and one door with a turn-lock. I took my time applying my lipstick and waited until the last person walked out, leaving only my mother primping in the mirror like some wounded prima donna.

Dropping my lipstick in my purse, I calmly walked to the door and turned the lock. Hearing the click, mother glanced up, her expression more annoyed than worried. Smiling to myself, I turned my back to her.

Typical.

I heard her walk toward the door. Of course, I was in her way and she let out a dramatic sigh. “If you’ll excuse me, please. People are waiting on me.”

I slowly turned around, raised my hand, and smacked her across the face, the impact knocking her chin over her shoulder and her body against the sink. Grabbing her cheek, she turned to face me, her eyes widening as they settled on my face.

“What’s wrong, Mother?” I taunted, drawing out her name. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Leighton,” she sputtered, glancing around for help that would never come. “What’s gotten into you?”

“What’s gotten into me?” I threw my head back and laughed. “The truth, Mother, and believe me, it really does set you free.” Placing a hand on either side of her, I leaned against the sink and blocked her in. “Where’s your husband?”

Her eyes flickered. “You know he’s still missing.”

I smiled. Breathing in her fear, I pressed my lips against her ear and whispered, “Wrong again. He’s dead. You ruined my innocence, robbed my future, stole my freedom, and now I’m going to fuck you out of yours.”

Pushing away from her, I left her speechless as I unlocked the door and walked into the hallway. It didn’t take her long to catch up to me. I expected it. In fact, I counted on it. My mother had shocked me in the last two weeks, but in certain ways she was a creature of habit. If I could count on anything, it was the fact that she’d bust through a brick wall to protect her image.

Too late.

I heard her heels click behind me then abruptly stop. It didn’t matter. She had the same view I had and two perfectly good ears.

“Remember when you pointed out that a woman ensures her own survival? You were right.” I smiled as her little homemade porno projected on one of the stark white walls of the ballroom.

As if that weren’t enough, she gasped as the words I just said to her repeated in her own voice in surround sound during her damning confessional.

“This proves nothing,” she insisted. “I’ll say it’s all faked.”

“Go to hell.”

She grabbed my arm, her nails sinking into my skin. “You ensured that for yourself the minute you spread your legs for a second-class criminal.”

I stared down at my arm and shook my head. “Conspiracy to commit murder, attempted murder, kidnapping, extortion, and law enforcement tampering. That’s not going to fare well in the polls.” Prying her claws off me, I patted her hand. “Enjoy prison, Mother.”

As I walked down the hall toward the side exit, she let out a harsh laugh. “You had the chance to kill me for weeks, and you didn’t have the guts. You expect to survive in their world?”

Mateo waited in the shadows by the door, yet I still stopped. “There are plenty of Carrera and Muñoz wives and girlfriends in prison. Why do something for yourself when you can pay other people to do it for you? You taught me that.”

“You’re just a drug runner’s whore,” she yelled as voices grew louder behind her. “You always have been, but you could have been so much more.”

I laughed but kept walking. “Like you—a pathetic and desperate excuse for a woman? Yeah. I’m okay with that.”

“The police are here!” I heard someone shout behind her. “I see the mayor. Don’t let her leave!”

“Leighton!” she called out as Mateo took my hand and pushed the door open.

I couldn’t resist one last look at her. “That’s Mrs. Cortes to you, bitch.”