"How much did you hear?" he asked, voice rough.
I considered lying, but what was the point? "Most of it," I admitted, stepping fully into the doorway. "Your father's...intense."
Cole laughed, but there was no humor in it. "That's one word for it."
I moved carefully into the living room. "Who was Ashton?"
Cole's face shuttered, all emotion disappearing behind a carefully blank mask. "No one you need to worry about."
"The one who got burned, then," I pressed. "What really happened?"
Cole's expression hardened, his green eyes flashing with something dangerous. "You need to let this go, Phoenix."
"Your father said something about a 'condition.' About 'binding.'" I took another careful step forward. "What was he talking about?"
"Nothing that concerns you." Cole moved to the kitchen, his movements stiff and controlled. He filled a glass with water, his back to me. "You should rest. Your ribs—"
"My ribs are fine," I interrupted. "Don't change the subject."
He turned, his face carefully blank. "What do you want me to say?"
"The truth would be nice." I lowered myself onto a barstool at the kitchen counter. "Your father's blackmailing you over something that happened when you were thirteen, and then at college. Something about a fire. This is what you told me last night."
Cole's knuckles whitened around the glass. "It was a long time ago."
"Was it an accident? Like he said?"
His laugh was bitter. "Define 'accident.'"
I watched him carefully, noting the tension in his shoulders, the way he seemed to be fighting for control. "You didn't mean to hurt anyone," I guessed.
Cole set the glass down with deliberate care. "No. I didn't." He met my eyes, something vulnerable flickering behind his carefully constructed walls. "But I did. And I've been paying for it ever since."
"That's why your father controls everything? Your money, your career—it's all leverage because of what happened?"
He nodded once, a sharp jerk of his head. "If the truth came out—the real truth—everything would be over. My career, my life here, all of it."
"What is the real truth?" I asked softly.
Cole stared at me for a long moment, conflict evident in his eyes. Finally, he shook his head. "I can't. I'm sorry."
I wanted to push, to demand answers, but something in his expression stopped me. Whatever secret he was carrying, it terrified him.
"And Ashton?" I asked instead. "Your father mentioned him too."
Pain flashed across Cole's face, raw and unguarded. "Ashton was my roommate at university. We were...close."
The way he said "close" told me everything I needed to know. "Your father said he killed himself."
Cole flinched as if I'd struck him. "He did. After my father found out about us, about what I'd told him. Father ruined Ashton's life—his family's life—just because he was friends with me." His voice dropped to barely above a whisper.
Except they were more than friends. Phoenix knew that.
Cole shook his head again, more firmly this time. "It doesn't matter now. Ashton is dead, and my father made sure everyone believed it was because of academic pressure. Another cover-up, another secret buried."
I absorbed this, trying to make sense of the fractured pieces Cole was giving me. His father's visit had revealed more questions than answers.
"I'm sorry," I said quietly. "About Ashton. About all of it. About me."
