Lethal Temptation (by Michelle Ray) novel Chapter 164

164 Eyes That Remember

Lucian

Clem

“My mother is frail,” Lydia said gently, her hand on the door as we stepped inside. “Please… don’t

overwhelm her. She’s fluent in sign language, so I’ll translate everything she says. I know why you’ve come,

and I was here when it all happened. I’ll give you a full account-from our side.”

She closed the door behind us with a soft click, sealing us in.

“After the incident,” she continued, her voice tightening with emotion, “my mother… shut down. She hasn’t

spoken since. The memory still haunts her.”

I nodded silently, understanding the weight of what we were walking into. The truth we sought came at a price-and for some, that price had been lingering grief.

Lydia led us down a narrow hallway to a modest bedroom. The curtains were drawn halfway, allowing a filtered stream of sunlight to fall across the floor like a quiet blessing.

By the window sat an elderly woman in a wheelchair, her thin hands resting on her lap. She looked ancient -perhaps well into her eighties, older than my parents would have been now. Her eyes, though open, held no light. Just a deep, aching sadness that spoke of years spent fighting ghosts no one else could see.

Her presence pulled at something in me. I had expected answers, not this fragile reminder of suffering.

She didn’t flinch when we entered, but her gaze flickered over us-curious, guarded, resigned. I didn’t need Lydia to tell me the woman still lived in the shadow of whatever happened all those years ago.

I swallowed the guilt rising in my throat. We were here to dig up bones buried for decades. And though it felt cruel to make her relive the nightmare, I had no choice.

I needed the truth. I needed to understand how my mother died.

Even if it meant reopening old wounds, ones that had never truly healed.

The old woman turned her gaze to me and smiled-a soft, trembling smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

Tears welled up, spilling down her cheeks as she slowly lifted her hand, beckoning me forward with a

gesture that shook faintly with age.

But I hesitated.

A part of me still held back-wary, guarded. I couldn’t afford to trust too easily. Not yet.

Her fingers moved in the air, slow but deliberate. Signs. A language I didn’t understand, but one that clearly

meant something.

“She says…” Lydia translated, watching her mother carefully. “You look like your father.”

I forced a small smile, nodding in acknowledgement. The old woman-Katya-smiled wider in return, the tears still flowing freely. Her hands moved again.

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164 Eyes That Remember

“You have your mother’s eyes. And her smile,” Lydia said next, her voice gentling with affection.

Claim

I blinked, surprised by the compliment. “Thank you,” I whispered-more to the memory of my parents than

to anyone else.

Slowly, cautiously, I stepped forward and took Katya’s hand in mine. Her skin was paper-thin, her grip surprisingly steady despite the frailty of her body.

Looking into her eyes, I saw it-layers of sorrow, of love, of years weathered by pain and silence.

“I’m sorry, Katya,” I said quietly. “For what we’re about to ask of you. I wish there was another way… I truly

1. But too much has been left unsaid. Too much damage left unhealed. We need to know the truth.

Please, don’t take offence at our presence.”

She didn’t speak. She didn’t need to.

Instead, she gently pulled her hand free and reached up to caress my cheek, her touch warm and kind. Her

lips trembled as she smiled again, then turned to her daughter, signing with a softness that held no

bitterness-only acceptance.

Lydia watched, then looked back at me. “She says… It’s okay. This is what family is for.”

The words struck me like a silent blow.

Family?

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