He nods, then continues. “Phoebe didn’t tell me until two years after it happened. She spiralled into depression and cut me and her friends off. It wasn’t until I cornered her and demanded she told me one day that she broke down and told me everything—his name included.” Charlie’s body bristles with anger, his shoulders sharp and his knee bouncing. I squeeze his hand tighter. “I was young and stupid and didn’t know what to do. I was in the middle of taking my bar and knew this was the exact scenario I’d want to represent one day. But it was my little sister, so it was different. She wouldn’t go to the police.”
“But you know who did it?” I state.
“Yeah.” He looks at me with so much hurt in his eyes, my own fill with tears. “Phoebe committed suicide three months after I found out. No note, nothing. Just gone.”
“God, I’m so sorry, Charlie—”
“I hated him. She was so innocent, never messed around, went to school. She had dreams and he came along and ripped it all out from under her.”
I sit silently, knowing there aren’t any words that can take Charlie’s pain away or bring his sister back.
He is back in the moment, reliving the hurt, and I feel it. I feel it all.
“I asked Mase if he would help me.” His voice shakes and then he stands, dropping my hand before walking to the window.
I link my hands in my lap, not liking the loss of connection. I think I needed it just as much as he did.
“I hired a friend of Vinny’s. He was ex-special forces like him.”
I close my eyes, not wanting to hear the rest of the story.
“I wanted him to be scared. I wanted him to feel every bit of the pain that she did.”
“Charlie,” I mutter, agonising with him as I look up at him from the sofa.
“I didn’t go through with it. We didn’t even know where he was at the time, and I knew it wouldn’t bring Phoebe back. I hoped one day I could put him away. That I would find him and do it the right way.”
My shoulders sag, and I let out a deep sigh of relief.
Charlie stands with his hands on his hips. His bottom lip pulled between his teeth. “I found out three days ago that Mason and Vinny never called it off.”
My eyes widen. “What?!”
He nods, then drops his head, eyes on the ground. “It went wrong, Nina. They were supposed to rough him up a bit, but it went to shit.”
“What happened to him?” I ask, my voice shaking.
Do I even want to know? This isn’t something I can just forget.
“He died.”
The air I pull into my lungs doesn’t feel filtered. It feels thick and jaded and makes tears burn the backs of my eyes. I swallow the bile that coats my throat, my stomach rolling.
“Mason never told me. He didn’t want anyone involved in case it came out. He worried I could lose my job.”
I open my mouth to speak, but nothing but air comes out.
“Nina—”
“Why are you telling me this, Charlie?” I finally ask, swiping the stray tear from my face.
His jaw ticks, his mask slipping back into place. “Because the wrong person found out. Someone who saw it as an opportunity.”
“What? Who?”
“Cara. The women who owned your studio. She was the only other person who knew besides Mase, Lance and Vinny. Mason thought if you could be linked to Cara through the studio, it would look too convenient. If it came out, you could be seen to have been aware of the situation.”
I shake my head, not understanding. “Cara? Do you mean Erin? Erin O’Connor who owns my studio.”
