“It’s… well, just look.” She taps a few buttons on her laptop, bringing up a file containing a series of blurry videos. “This is the CCTV footage from the hotel the night Dylan died.”
She taps a button, and a video plays. It’s shot from a camera mounted near the ceiling in a long hallway. A group of girls in leather and lace stumble down the hall, crashing into the walls and jostling each other as they fight over the attention of—
“That’s Gabriel,” I point to one of the figures. Even on the grainy film, he’s unmistakable with his long hair and butterflies circling his neck.
“Right.” George hits pause just as Gabriel flings open the door to the suite. She points to one of the girls in the group. “And who does that look like to you?”
I peer at the girl she’s pointing to. Silky black hair, a long, thin neck, and something about the way she holds herself… My heart races. “It’s hard to tell – it’s such a bad picture. But itkindof looks like Cleo St. James.”
“Bloody hell.” Gabe’s breath rasps against my ear as he leans over my shoulder to get a look.
“Bloody hell is right. I did some digging. Cleo deleted a ton of social media posts from around the dates of Dylan’s death, but I’ve found pictures of her tagged by other influencers. She was definitely in London when Octavia’s Ruin played their shows. And look at this.” George taps on another video. It’s all the girls leaving the suite in the early morning. “Cleo’s not there.”
“So Cleo is alone in the suite with Gabriel and Dylan?”
George nods.
Gabriel collapses into his chair, his head falling into his hands. I reach across the desks to squeeze his fingers.We will make this right, I promise.
I will eat her heart for you.
“This is insane,” Noah’s hands ball into fists. “How come the police haven’t questioned her?”
“Because this tape isn’t in the police files.” George taps the screen. “I had to get a hacker friend to recover it from the hotel’s backup server. Cleo St. James is the last person to see Dylan O’Connor alive, and someone went to a great deal of trouble to cover up her presence.”
29
Claudia
“You ready for this?” Eli squeezes my hand.
I’m not. I haven’t set foot on this property since the night Brutus dragged me from my bed and made my life a living nightmare. I haven’t had the desire to drive past or even look it up on Google Maps. I’ve locked this house and all its memories away in the metal box in my mind, casting it away on an ocean of hate so I didn’t have tofeel.
Every good memory I have in this house is tainted by my mother’s blood splattered across the window, and my reflection glaring back at me, her eyes hollow, lifeless.
Every wish for how my life should have turned out has turned sour by the knowledge the people who own this house bought and paid for me.
Antony unlocks the door, shoves it open. “After you,Imperatrix.”
My feet remain rooted in place, stuck to the marble walkway.
Antony’s had a key all this time.
Obviously he does. He’s Brutus’ tribune.
I’m too emotional today. I need to get a grip.
Antony sees me staring at the key in his hand and frowns. “Remember, having me by his side lent Brutus legitimacy. It kept me alive, and I kept you alive.”
And now I’m giving you the life you deserve.
I square my shoulders and step into the hall, into the life Brutus stole from me. My breath hitches as my eyes take it all in.
The house looks exactly the same, and yet completely different. I move through the foyer into the lofty living room, touching the objects my father touched, breathing in his scent amongst the dust and ruin. Brutus replaced many of my father’s antiquities with garish modern art. His tastes ran even more avant-garde than the Malloys. We move to the formal sitting room, and I can’t help but notice the sparseness of the furnishings. There are squares of bright wallpaper where my father’s art collection hung, and empty spaces on the shelves for objects that no longer reside in their proper place. On the floor in the doorway is the broken head of a horse – part of a Roman triumphal statue Daddy—Julian adored. The rest of the statue is nowhere in sight.
I touch my fingers to an inlaid table. “Where’s the bust of Caesar that used to sit here?” It was one of Julian’s favorite possessions.
“Sold,” Antony says. “Brutus needed money. He burned through your family assets in the first two years. That’s why he started working with Nero.”
