Her eyes shift.It’s quick, almost imperceptible—but I see it.Not surprise.Guilt.
“Yes,” she breathes.
The air in the room changes—not temperature, not volume, just the atmosphere inside my body.Like something in my chest folds in on itself.Like my ribs press too close to my lungs, and there’s nowhere for the betrayal to go except deeper.
Of course she knew.
“Of course you knew,” I say, my voice gone flat, stripped of anything except what’s real.“You’ve been covering for him since he hired you, right?”
She doesn’t reply.Not with words.But her silence—this time—admits more than denial ever could.
I move toward the desk, not fast, not threatening, just with purpose.Because this is the moment where the veil doesn’t just slip—it dissolves.
“You want to know why he never made you an agent?”I ask, something dark settling low in my chest.“I think I know.It wasn’t because you weren’t smart enough or qualified.You were both.You are both.But you were too useful right where you were.You were his buffer.His fixer.His fucking accomplice.And he needed you in the trenches with him, not standing on your own.”
Her breath stutters, but I don’t stop.
“You watched him destroy people.You handed him the tools.You filed the contracts, made the phone calls, and looked the other way while he gutted people from the inside out.You didn’t stop him.You didn’t even try.You just let it happen.And I hope—God, I hope—that when you close your eyes at night, you see their faces.”
Her shoulders finally give out.There’s no sob, no scream, no last-ditch defense of her loyalty.She just slowly sinks into the chair behind the desk like something inside her finally gave up—like the scaffolding holding her upright couldn’t carry it anymore.
Her shoulders collapse inward, her spine curves, and she disappears into the seat without resistance.She’s not crying.Not begging.Just ...vacant.Cracked open and left there.And it’s almost worse than if she screamed, because at least then I could yell back.But this?This quiet unraveling?It feels like defeat, and ...I have no energy to even try to figure her out.
This woman could’ve been something better if she hadn’t tied herself so tightly to a man who never deserved her loyalty.And maybe that’s what’s so fucking tragic about all of this: she could’ve helped people.She could’ve used her power for more than just smoothing out Connor’s messes.
“I’ll make a list of every client,” I say, my voice shaking with everything I haven’t let myself feel until now.“If any of them come forward, if they want to sue, to speak out, to burn it all down—I’ll help them.I’ll back them.I’ll testify.I’ll hand over every file and every detail I can find.I’ll make sure what you and Connor did doesn’t disappear into a polite obituary.”
She doesn’t look at me.Doesn’t even acknowledge me anymore.And maybe her silence is the closest thing to a confession I’ll ever get from her.
I turn and walk out before she remembers how to speak.Before she starts spitting out excuses she’s been rehearsing since the day Connor first used her as his accomplice.
Outside, the sunlight hits me like it’s mocking me.It’s too alive for a day like this.For a world that keeps spinning after a man like Connor Dempsey dies without consequence, without reckoning, without ever having to say a single goddamn word of regret.
He got to die quietly in a recliner, with no one to hold him accountable, no one to force the truth from his mouth.He took every secret with him like a thief escaping in the dark, leaving the rest of us to sift through the wreckage with nothing but assumptions and rage.
My father is dead.
And last week—just last week—I told him I hated him.I told him to go to hell.I told him I never wanted to see his face again, and now I won’t.He’s gone.He’s fucking gone.And I should feel something more than this—more than anger clawing at my ribs and guilt pushing its fingers into my lungs—but I don’t.I just feel like I’m floating in a version of my life I no longer recognize.
I hope he rots in hell where he deserves to be forever.
ChapterNinety-One
Private Message | EchoZone Internal Chat
From: StringTheory27
To: DeadStrings
Date: August 21st, 1997, 1:31 PM
Subject: You there?
It’s been so longsince we’ve chatted.For all I know, you deactivated your account, and I’m just speaking to nothing.That would be sad.Not as sad as losing your father and realizing he was a piece of shit, but close enough.
So, yeah, my father died last week.There was no funeral or official announcement.That’s a lie.I was at the grocery store and saw his old picture in several magazines calling him a legend.The legend has died.If you ask me, I’m pretty sure it was his assistant who told her paparazzi friends about our loss.
The headline mentioned his daughter taking over for him and being—what was it?“Heartbroken but prepared.”Honestly, I’m not sure what I am.Am I in pain?Yes, but not because I miss him.Just a day before he died, I found out my father was a monster.
