eyes glittered as he turned to look at her. “I have not seen her since I was eleven and my uncle finally convinced her to sign over custody. And I never will again. She committed suicide six years ago.”
Holly’s heart hurt. “I’m sorry.”
He shrugged with a lightness he could not possibly feel. “This is life.”
“But...your mother,” she said, her throat aching.
He reached out and slid his finger over her cheek, softly, lightly. “I believe you are a good mother, Holly Craig. But not all women are as dedicated as you.”
His words pierced her in ways he would never know. What kind of mother kept a son from his father? What kind of mother struggled to raise him, to provide for him, when he could be the heir to all of this wealth? When he could have everything?
“Drago, I—” But she couldn’t say it. Her throat closed up and nothing would come out.
He smiled, but it was not a real smile. It didn’t reach his eyes. “Go to bed, Holly. Tomorrow will be a long day.”
Like a coward, she fled.
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