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“I don’t believe you. I know that she called to meet with Special Agent Rice to confess that there was a dead body hidden in the swamp, didn’t she? I talked to the agent and he said that she never showed up. Because she was already dead.” Livia shuddered, trying not to think of how close she’d been standing to the limo. And the horrific secret hidden in the trunk. It was just so awful. “You had to stop her.”

“How did you …? Never mind. It doesn’t matter.” Adrian shook his head. “Okay, it’s true. I overheard her calling the FBI.”

Livia curled her lips in disgust. “You were spying on her.”

“I knew she was upset and suspected she intended to do something stupid.” Adrian’s tone was defensive as he continued his role as the aggrieved victim. “So yes, I was watching her.”

“And then you threw her off the balcony.”

Her stark accusation resonated through the room. Helene whimpered in fear, but Adrian ignored his sister as he stepped forward to glare at Livia.

“No one threw her,” he snapped. “It was an accident.”

Livia pretended to cower at his sharp retort, stumbling back a few steps before straightening to send him a glare. She wasn’t close enough to make a run for it yet, but every inch was a victory.

“Just like running over poor Manny was an accident?” she demanded.

Adrian clicked his tongue, sending Helene an impatient frown. “My father had an explosive temper. Manny was an idiot if he thought for a second that Henri Benoit would allow his daughter to run off with the chauffeur.”

“Because the Benoits are so superior?” Livia made a gagging sound. “You people make me sick.”

Adrian’s gaze snapped back to glare at her. “They were superior in his mind. He’d been raised to believe that nothing was more important than taking pride in the Benoit name.”

“He was an aging relic with a bloated ego,” Livia corrected before returning the conversation back to the only thing that mattered to her. “What happened to my mother?”

Adrian’s lips snapped together, as if he was going to refuse to answer. Fear bubbled through Livia. She wasn’t sure what was worse: the thought he was about to shoot her, or the terror she might die without ever knowing the truth.

Surprisingly, Adrian visibly forced himself to respond. “After I overheard Giselle on the phone with the FBI, I went to my father to warn him.”

“Traitor,” she hissed.

Adrian grimaced. “You might not believe me, but I regret that now.”

“No, I don’t believe you,” she said in an icy voice. Between Helene’s cowardly refusal to stand up for herself and Adrian’s bootlicking, her poor mother was the only child with a spine. It was no wonder she was Henri’s favorite. “Just tell me what happened.”

“No one really knows,” Adrian reluctantly admitted. “My father said that he confronted Giselle in her room. There was an argument and she stormed onto the balcony. When he followed her to pull her back into the bedroom, she supposedly stumbled backward and fell over the railing.”

“You don’t believe that, do you?” she scoffed. “That railing must have come up to her waist. She wasn’t going over the top unless someone picked her up and tossed her over.”

“I don’t know. And in the end it didn’t matter,” he insisted in a bleak voice. “Whatever happened up there that night destroyed the family. Helene turned to the bottle. My father became a recluse, and the business started to fall apart. I did my best to keep things from a complete collapse.”

Livia released a sharp laugh. “Your best? You are …” Words nearly failed her. “Unbelievable,” she finally hissed. “Henri Benoit sold off his daughter to the highest bidder, then went mental when she chose a chauffeur instead of her abusive husband, demanding she abort her child. And even after she lost the baby, he wasn’t satisfied. He had to murder the poor man and stuff him in the trunk of his limo and drive it into the middle of the swamp to rot.” Livia was trembling as a lifetime of pent-up fury cascaded through her. “And instead of confronting him—or better yet, calling the authorities—you spied and tattled on your own sister. Her blood is on your hands.”

Helene gasped and Adrian’s fingers tightened on the grip of the gun, as if he was struggling against the urge to pull the trigger. She wasn’t really sure why he didn’t. Maybe he hoped he could gaslight her into offering her forgiveness?

Hell would freeze over first.

“I told you,” he rasped. “I did my best.”

Livia edged another inch backward. She didn’t dare glance over her shoulder to see how far she was from the doors. All she could do was keep her uncle distracted until she reached her goal.

“Did your best include sending me to live with complete strangers?” she loudly demanded.

He didn’t bother to pretend it hadn’t been his decision to get rid of her. “What else could I do? Your presence was a constant reminder to my father of what he’d lost.”

“Lost? He didn’t lose anything.” Her voice was shrill with a furious disbelief. “He deliberately murdered his chauffeur along with my mother.”

“Whatever. I thought it was safer for both of you if you went to live in New Orleans.”