A GENTLE THIEF.

During supper I did not eat. Instead, I glared at her from across the room, eyes sharp, breaths shallow, stomach hollow. She watched me too, sad, pale, tired. But she ate. Ate and tried to not pay me too much attention, replenishing and recharging, it seemed, from my draining aura.

During Compline I did not pray. Instead, I burned a hole through her head while she, along with the others, chanted the night prayer away. She was aware of my mad impatience, no doubt, but preferred to focus on the Lord, though I could see how progressively rigid her body grew as Compline neared to its end.

And finally – grand silence.

You best believe I swooshed right to her door and guarded it like a Rottweiler until I saw her dejected, dark silhouette dragging itself towards me.

"Please, come in," she said. We stepped inside, took the same seats as before. "Well, ask away."

"First," — I folded one finger — "how did this even happen that you're my mother? Second," — another finger folded — "why only now do I find out about you? And third," the third finger followed — "Where were you this whole time? That's just for starters. I'm sure the more you talk, the more questions I'll have."

"Right…."

She inhaled slowly, like I'd done earlier, like she was about to dive under water, into the cold, murky vault of her memories. She was frightened, that I could see.

"We'd met in Ireland, in Waterford, your father and I," she started pensively then, "at a campaign my father had organized for his ministry."

"Before you continue," I inserted, "we're talking about Colton Wayne Griffith, right?"

"Yes. Exactly him…" she confirmed woefully. "I was fifteen. He was twenty. And I'd fallen in love the second I saw him. He was beautiful back then, had a mane of a lion with those black long curls. Tall. Blue-eyed. Polite. Witty. Charming. You know, all the qualities that make one attractive and unforgettable."

I thought I caught a ghost of a smile, but if it was one – it looked impossibly bitter.

"Your father was a seeker, looking for a mentor, a teacher to show him the way to people's trust and prosperity. And what is a better way to look for it than at a prestigious, well-known charity event? I must say, he really knew what he was doing…" this time her smile was evident; so was its bitterness.

"What do you mean by that?" I asked.

"I mean he calculated everything perfectly."

"Sounds like—" I stopped myself on time. Asmodeus's name was not to figure in this conversation. "Never mind."

She disregarded me and went on. "Colton targeted my father because of his influence and connections. People respected his selfless philanthropy and unabated devotion to God. Those two qualities combined really do form the crowds. Therefore, he was a very powerful, successful man, and a wealthy one, too. Needless to say, many amateurs, aspiring entrepreneurs and such sought his advice, but only select few would have it as most aimed for personal gain and not contribution to society. That was my father's greatest quality, to look at men and see corruption."

She shifted on her chair, and involuntary I copied.

"But everyone has weaknesses, and my father… After my mother's death, I was all he had, his only family. He was very protective of me. Always vigilant and on guard. Up until Colton popped up, that is. And Colton…his greatest strength was smelling weaknesses and turning them to his advantages."

I listened, watching sister Rosalyn's face switch from sorrow to anger to sadness to wrath.

"He was also a remarkable actor, so believable you could never guess whether he played or lived. That's how he was able to get to my father. Through me." She paused, face momentarily frozen on a negative accord.

"You're saying my father is a rotten crook?"

"Yes, Genevieve, that is what I am saying."

"Explain."

"He used me as a leverage to get to my father's trust fund."

Again both of us shifted on our seats like the seats were hot coals.

"Used you?"

She regarded me a moment, as if evaluating me, looking for something…a reaction? Then she continued.

"The Waterfront campaign was one of the dearest to my father because its proceeds sponsored orphans, and he himself was an orphan. Colton knew it, no doubt. That is why that night he'd contributed a very generous amount, almost one-third of a million."

I frowned. "𝘈 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘳𝘥? Where did he get so much?"

She shrugged, clueless. "Do not ask me. But Colton was perfectly aware of what that crusade meant for my father and played the charity card oh-so-well, to impress not only dad but everyone around him." Her brows knit thoughtfully. "I believe he put so much money on the table because too much was at steak, and he absolutely needed his plan to work…there was never a plan B. And well, it worked. My father had noticed his gesture, they spoke business, and invitation was the formality."

"Okay. And then?"

"Colton followed my father back to Washington. In a way, he was like a disciple. Well, that was the role he'd played, of a loyal dog, someone who wholeheartedly shared my father's beliefs, ready to walk with him to the end of the world, ready to even scrub toilets twenty-four-seven if it meant gaining my father's absolute trust. And whenever people questioned Colton on his eagerness to be on my father's good list, I remember he'd always throw this one cliche: this is my baptism by fire."

"What does that mean?"

"That means, you're willing to go through hell for a cause."

𝘏𝘦𝘭𝘭. "I see…"

"At the same time," the woman continued, "he saw my affection and did everything to keep it alive. There were always flowers in my father's home, freshly cut, roses, lilies, peonies, anything that smelled divine and looked the part: Colton's little 'gratitude' gifts. Then his other tokens of appreciation: opera tickets, and theatre seats, pollo games, and more perks to more gatherings…What can I say, his generosity kept us on our toes…"

"You dated him?" I blurted out.

"Yes," she replied regretfully. "At first, it was an innocent affair. Holding hands, stealing kisses, giggles and hugs, hearts and flowers…then, as time passed, things had developed."

"What about your protective dad? I thought he had an eye for corruption?"

"That was the weakness. When it comes to your child, seeing through countless affections and good deeds can be tricky. Colton lulled my father's attention with both. Imagine, a gentleman, ever-kind and ever-generous towards both of us. Never once had he gotten caught doing something that would raise a brow. Not a single mistake that would question his intentions. Without exaggeration, Genevieve, he was pure as the first snow."

"So far only the praises." I remarked. "So what had he possibly done to become a rotten crook?"

"For starters, he kidnapped me."