Raylen Vale's separation from Livia Astor does not surprise Oscar nominee Glynis Taylor Carrington at all. She is not surprised that the alleged cause of their split is his infidelity either.
After all, she knows Raylen can be every bit as much of a rotten fuckboy as his sorry excuse of a sperm donor.
But what can she do? That is her boy.
He became her boy when she married Henry Vale, and he has stayed her boy even long after her acrimonious split from that miserable old man.
When her boy turns up at her townhouse with swollen eyes, she naturally lets him in with open arms.
He may be thirty-five, but he is still her child.
She is too shocked by his visible grief to make a sassy or rude comment. Raylen has many strengths, but being honest with his feelings is not one of them. He prefers to bottle up his emotions to retain his vise-like grip on himself and his life.
It is a rare moment and, despite her general abrasiveness, Glynis cannot find it in herself to ruin it.
She quickly ushers him in and makes a pot of chamomile tea.
By the time she is pouring out the tea, Raylen is ready to explain what happened.
"Henry really said that?" she asked, aghast, after sinking into her sofa.
"Yes," her step-son replies while keeping his eyes fixed on the cup of tea she handed him. He takes a tentative sip before continuing. "He also said that had I married Laney, she, by virtue of her lineage, would have elevated the Vale family."
Glynis can only laugh. "Your father thinks prestige is something that can be bought."
"Apparently so." Raylen takes another sip. Glynis is glad to see that his eyes have lost some puffiness.
Till today, Glynis curses her younger self for marrying Henry Vale. He was nearly as argumentative as he is now, but she once thought—very foolishly—that being able to trade verbal barbs on equal footing with that man was a sign of chemistry and understanding.
It was a sign that they were two birds of a feather.
She fancied herself special until she realised his contempt for everyone was directed at her as well. He never treated her as an equal, only as an inferior who was more entertaining than the others.
In short, a pet. A pet he can fuck and flaunt.
At the end of the day, Henry Vale is fundamentally incapable of loving anyone but himself. The best he can give is a condescending sort of affection and even that he can snatch away without any warning.
Truly, with such a father it is not strange that Raylen is the way he is—arrogant, repressed, competent, and deprived.
It is also no wonder that his partners tend to end up as miserable as him. Livia is just the last in a long, long line of embittered ex-lovers.
Glynis is confident Livia won't be the last for long either.
Speaking of Raylen's partners…
"Can we visit Laney together?" he asks.
Glynis has been expecting that question. "Darling, of course we can."
Raylen smiles a little without looking up from his tea. "You have not called me that for a long time."
"Really?" Glynis says, fully aware that his words are true.
"Really," echoes Raylen softly. "Although I do not blame you the slightest. I know I am not lovable."
"You think too much," Glynis complains lightly. "Finish your tea and we can visit Laney. I have a gift for her as well."
Raylen's smile grows broader and more genuine. "She would like that."
Glynis snorts. "Of course she would. I have excellent taste in gifts."
The trip to Sicaster Cemetery is a quiet one. Raylen seems unwilling to talk more. 'Just let him be,' thinks Glynis to herself. 'Henry really went overboard this time.'
Soon enough, they are standing before a plain tombstone.
"I'm here to see you, Laney," Glynis says warmly, already used to talking to someone who won't reply. "I'm sorry I haven't visited for some time. Do you miss me?"
Meanwhile, Raylen has lowered himself to the ground and is working through the bouquet of flowers he brought with a focus akin to wordless fury.
It takes Glynis a few seconds before realising he is making a flower crown.
"I got you a book," she continues talking to the unresponsive grave. "A first edition of Sylvia Plath's The Bell Jar. I found it at a quaint little bookshop when I was visiting Terros. Lovely city. Raylen will put the book in your room for me. Won't you, Raylen?"
"Mhmm."
When he is done, he places the flower crown on the right corner of the tombstone.
Glynis is reminded of how a young Laney used to frolic about Central Park with flowers in her pale hair. She can almost still hear the girl's laughter. She blinks back some tears as Raylen stands up, ready to leave.
As they walk back towards Raylen's sedan, he finally opens his mouth to speak again. "Glynis, I've never told you this but…"
"But?"
"When I found Laney, she was still conscious."
"She was?" Glynis feels her eyes widening in surprise. This is news to her. For the past nine years, she was under the impression that Raylen only found Laney when she was already at death's door.
"Yes, she was. She could speak too."
"What? What did she say?"
Raylen's face crumples. "She wrapped her arms around me and smiled. And then she whispered in my ear, asking if I was finally satisfied."
"Oh, darling…" Glynis rubs his shoulder in an attempt to comfort him. She has not done this for a long time too. Raylen does not react to the gesture.
These last words are hurtful, yes, but they also sound inexplicable to her. Not to mention, this does not seem like something Laney would say.
But Raylen isn't done. He purses his lips before speaking once more. "She also said, 'Please let this be enough. Please spare Charlotte. I beg you.'"