Julia offered her a smile as she took her hand. “I’m very glad you feel that way. But this news may still be shocking.”
Grant perched on the edge of the coffee table, balancing his elbows on his knees. “Baby…”
Sierra crinkled her brow. “Yeah?”
Wincing, he flicked his gaze to the floor, pondering the best approach to break the news of his ex-wife's death to her daughter.
“Daddy, just say it already.”
“Your mother–”
Sierra flung a hand in the air. “Wait, stop…Lydia or Julia?”
“Lydia,” he answered.
“Oh, okay. Well, she’s not my mother, so you could have just said Lydia. And honestly, if this has something to do with her, I really couldn’t care less.” Sierra looped her arm through Julia’s. “As long as myrealmother is okay, I’m good.”
“Sierra, you need to hear this,” Julia said as she pushed a lock of hair over her shoulder.
Grant nodded at his wife before he flicked his gaze back to his daughter. “Lydia…died earlier this evening.”
Sierra stared at him for a moment. He reached out to grab her hand, uncertain if he should expect an emotional outburst. Her eyebrows knitted, her features hardening. After a second, she shrugged. “Okay, so?”
“Honey…” Grant searched for the words to try to delve into his daughter’s feelings about it, but found none. Truthfully, he didn’t much care either outside of the relief that she’d no longer be a wrecking ball in their lives. The relief of that alone was enough for him to want to celebrate right alongside Julia’s sister.
“Sierra, I know you are very angry with her right now,” Julia said, her voice soft and even, “but she was still your mother.”
“No,” Sierra said with a shake of her head. “No, she wasn’t my mother. She was the person who gave birth to me, but that’s where our connection ended.”
“All right, but she still played a big role in your life, and–”
Sierra rose from the couch with a vehement wag of her head. “No. That’s the point. Outside of being a major threat, she playedno role in my life. I hate her. And if she’s dead, good. Now, she can’t hurt any of us anymore.”
“Sierra…” Grant began, understanding her anger toward Lydia, but still doubting her indifference.
“Daddy, stop. You don’t need to be concerned. I really couldn’t care less. Lydia is dead. Okay.”
Julia rose and reached for her. If the situation wasn’t serious, Grant would have smiled at the scene. She really had a way with his daughter.
“I think you should know how she died,” Julia said.
Sierra arched an eyebrow. “Why?”
“Sierra, she fell from her penthouse,” Julia answered.
“Okay,” Sierra said with a shrug. “Look, I don’t care if she fell, or drowned, or overdosed. As long as she won’t be making our lives miserable.”
“The police think it’s a little suspicious,” Grant added. “They’re doing an investigation.”
A flicker of something passed through Sierra’s eyes as he said the words, but it was fleeting and disappeared in seconds as she flicked her gaze away from him. “The way she drinks, it could have been an accident. Or someone could have offed her. Who knows with her. And who cares? Are we finished here?”
Grant stood and studied his daughter for a second before he nodded. “Yes, I guess so.”
“Good. I’m going to check on Kyle. He’s probably bored without me beating him at Uno.” She stomped her way toward the foyer.
“Sierra,” Julia called after her, “no one has told him yet unless he saw it on the news.”
Sierra twisted to face her as she hovered in the doorway. “Good. I’ll tell him the good news then.”
