“Nixon?”
Chapter Thirty Seven
Nixon stands before me, the same as he ever was. Tall, composed, and wearing a suit that probably costs more than a semester at Waversea. His tie is loose around his aging neck, his sleeves rolled up, as if this was just another business deal gone sour. His face, sharp and unreadable, betrays nothing. No remorse. No surprise. Not even satisfaction.
As if he didn’t just shove a woman off a fucking balcony. As if he’s just the resigned, unloving bastard who raised me to a standard I could never reach.
My mouth feels dry, my chest tight. I can’t decide what to focus on. The blood pounding in my skull, the way Avery’s fingers twitch like she’s fighting the urge to grab me, or the quiet calm on my once-father’s face.
For the first time in my life, I don’t know how to react. Sharon’s scream rings in my ears, cutting through the roaring in my head. Axel’s words from before replay in my mind. We’re not murderers. And that’s never been so apparent to me. I don’t know if I can really do whatever it takes to keep Avery safe, like I’ve been promising. The thought terrifies me.
“I hope you’re fucking happy,” Nixon growls, holding the flash drive in the air. He’s yet to address the fact that Avery is standing right beside me.
Unable to respond straight away, I just stare at the drive,dumbfounded. My body is frozen in a way it hasn’t been since I was a kid staring up at this same man, waiting for a term of endearment that won't come. He’s never loved me, and it’s never been as apparent as the way his face contorts into a scowl right now.
I feel Avery at my side, her breath shallow. Huxley is stock-still, his eyes unreadable as he watches Nixon like he’s assessing another predator. I should move. I should do something, but all I can do is stare. Because Nixon isn’t supposed to be here. Not at this auction. Not in this house. Not in this world I thought I built apart from him.
And yet, here he is.
Then, finally, Nixon huffs and pushes the drive into his pocket. He tugs his sleeves back down, fixes his cufflinks, and straightens his tie. It’s so fucking normal, so routine, that a sharp, bitter laugh bubbles up in my throat. It doesn’t make it past my lips. Instead, I hear my own voice, hoarse and disbelieving.
“What the fuck are you doing here?”
Nixon exhales sharply, as if I’m the one being unreasonable. “Cleaning up your mess, as per usual.” He tilts his head, studying me. “Do you even know how stupid you’ve been?”
I can’t breathe. My ribs feel like they’re caving in. A lifetime of memories surge forward, slamming into me like a freight train. The years of disappointment, the belittling I thought I’d come to terms with. Apparently, I haven’t. I’ve only buried them deep, deep down.
Nixon wasn’t abusive physically. Just withdrawn, cold, and hateful. It’s no wonder I didn’t understand what love was until Avery showed me.
“I believe you owe us an explanation,” Avery says with an air of composure, and the sound brings reality crashing back into focus. Sharon is dead. There’s a body lying in the courtyard and a house full of students beneath our feet. Someone is going to notice her soon. Straightening, I mimic the way Avery is facing Nixon, her shoulders back and chin raised. My respect for her shoots off the scale. Nixon looks at Avery at last, his pale eyes remaining hard.
“Sharon Barrett is a snake of a woman who exploits anyone she can,” Nixon grits out. No one attempts to tell him that Sharon isn’t anything anymore. “She didn’t leave me much choice when she reachedout to blackmail me with a video of…” Nixon swallows, looking into a far corner. “You two.”
Avery draws in a sharp breath at the same time my stomach plummets. If Sharon has cameras in the ballroom, she must have had them all over the mansion, including the gym. This is why Nixon is being so cold with Avery, too.
“I thought I could trust you to protect her, Wyatt,” Nixon continues. “You’re her brother.” His disappointment is palpable, but I’m used to it. Used to this same argument.
“No, I’m not. I’ve been telling you for years. She is not my sister.”
“The world thinks differently,” Nixon snaps. Hux takes a microstep in front of Avery on instinct. If I wasn’t on high alert, refusing to show weakness, I’d thank him. Nixon rolls his neck, straightening even further to put us at the same height. “What would have happened if this footage got out to the press?”
“Your reputation would blow up in flames?” I suggest with a shrug.
“You’d both be arrested,” Nixon glares at me. “On paper, you are adoptive siblings. The circumstances don’t matter.”
I scoff at the injustice of it all. Avery and I have practically been strangers for years, regardless of my forged birth certificate and her false adoption back to her real mother. I’ve never lived with her until a few months ago, when Nixon moved her into Waversea.
But there’s no time to argue back and forth. If we don’t leave soon, we could be arrested for another crime entirely.
I turn to Avery and Hux, ignoring Nixon’s presence behind me.
“We need to get out of here. Axel should already be in the minibus, and we have Fredrick’s address,” I say urgently, cutting through the haze of unaddressed shock lingering in the room. Nixon tries to interrupt, contesting going to Fredrick’s house, but I don’t give a fuck what he thinks. I’m here trying to fix the mess he’s been creating for years.
Instead, I grab Avery’s hands and implore her to only look at me.
“Richard is going to pin this on us, especially if he knows about the camera footage. If we’re sitting in a police cell, who will protect Axel? Who’s going to save Meg?”
Her breath hitches. There it is. That sharp clarity slicing through the fog, pulling her back to me. Avery doesn’t hesitate when it comes to the people she loves.
