“Easy now, Kathryn,” Oliver says, voice laced with mock affection as he tilts the paper toward us. “This is the new contract. Starting today, you owe me $120,000. Tripled from the original loan.”
I freeze.
“What?” The word barely makes it past my lips, more breath than sound.
“You heard me,” Oliver says smoothly, tapping the paper. “$40k borrowed. Triple repayment. It’s the new deal.”
I stare at the page, but I can’t even read it. The numbers blur in front of me. The corners of my vision darken like the air’s been sucked out of the room.
One hundred and twenty thousand.
He’s rewriting the rules like none of it mattered.
This can’t be happening.
“Why are you looking at me like you wouldn’t be able to pay it, Lucas?” Oliver smirks, his voice slick with mockery. “I’m sure if you keep bending for Alexander, you’ll cough up the money in no time.”
My jaw tenses so hard it clicks. I glare at him, not even bothering to mask the disgust in my eyes.
“You know,” he drawls, leaning forward like he’s sharing a secret, “I actually considered holding you hostage and calling him to come fetch you.”
A wicked grin stretches across his face. “But then I thought… maybe you’re not that important. Maybe he’s got other pretty little toys who keep his bed warm and wouldn’t be bothered if you are gone.”
My stomach twists. I know that’s not true. I know if something happened, Alex would come for me—he would. But I don’t give Oliver the satisfaction of saying that. I keep quiet.
“You’re a piece of shit,” my mother snaps, venom in her voice.
Oliver snorts.
“Oh, Kathryn,” he says, turning that same mocking gaze on her, “look at yourself.”
Then his smile drops.
“Your son was fifteen when four grown boys ruined him. You knew. And what did you do?”
Silence.
“You didn’t take him to the hospital,” he continues, each word sharp and cold. “You didn’t take him to therapy. You didn’t press charges. You let it rot in him.”
He tilts his head like he’s fascinated. “He learned ASL on his own. You gave him nothing.”
My mother says nothing. Her mouth trembles.
He isn’t done.
“You started giving him drugs to sell when he was what—twelve?” he lets out a dark laugh, shaking his head. “You’re worse than me. I never pretended to be a parent.”
“You think I had a choice?” my mother yells, eyes wide with rage, voice shaking. “Do you think any of this was a choice?”
I want them both to shut the fuck up.
I want to tear something apart, scream until my throat burns. My hands shake. My chest aches. I want to be anywhere but here. I want to be back at the penthouse, tangled in Alex’s arms, smelling his skin, breathing him in until the world fades. I want to hear Tyler’s laugh as he drags me through aisles at Walmart or the thrift store.
I want this moment to disappear. I want these other evil memories to stay buried. I want peace.
But instead, I’m here.
And everything I’ve tried to forget is clawing its way back to the surface.
