“They lied,” I muttered. “Not just to control me. But to hide what they did. What they’re still doing.”
“They didn’t want you in love with a survivor,” Tristan said, voice grim. “Didn’t fit the narrative.”
“No,” I agreed. “But now that I know everything…”
I looked up, the sea wild behind my eyes.
“…we burn them all down.”
Tristan smirked. “That’s more like it.”
“We start with the Royal Oaks girls who’ve been targeting her. Then we hit Ohio. Get those fake content creators outed, blackballed, sued—whatever it takes.”
“We’ll go legal,” X said. “At first.”
“And if that fails?” I asked.
“We’ve got money,” he replied. “We make it go away.”
I leaned forward, the wind slicing through me like it wanted me to wake the hell up.
“She deserves more than my guilt,” I said. “She deserves justice.”
“And she’s going to get it,” Tristan said.
“Even if we have to set fire to every lie that built this school,” I whispered.
Because this time, they messed with the wrong girl.
And I’m done pretending I don’t care.
Chapter Twenty-Three
JADE
I watchedthrough the window as the tow truck clanked and hissed, dragging what was left of my dignity out of the driveway. The Mini Cooper—my battered little lifeline—looked even sadder hooked up like that, front bumper skewed, waterlogged and stinking. The trail of fish guts it left behind made my stomach roll.
Aunt Susan didn’t say anything until the truck rounded the corner and disappeared from view.
Then she turned to me, sighing softly. “It’s totaled,” she said, voice gentle. “Un-driveable. And the smell…” She shook her head, lips pressed into a line. “Even if we gutted it, the seats, the insulation—it wouldn’t come out. Not really.”
I didn’t say anything. Just stood there barefoot in her kitchen in an old hoodie, shoulders slumped forward like a scarecrow after the wind. Something inside me wilted.
“I filed the claim this morning. Insurance will cover a bit,” she continued, her voice a little too casual, like we weren’t talking about someone vandalizing what little I had left. “But that’s not what I wanted to talk to you about.”
I turned slowly, my eyes heavy, raw. “What then?”
She gestured to the breakfast table. “Sit with me.”
I sat. Not because I wanted to, but because I didn’t have the energy to argue.
She pulled a folder out from under the placemat—neat, labeled. Aunt Susan didn’t do chaos, even when her life invited it.
“There’s money,” she said slowly. “Not a windfall. But… something.”
I blinked. “What do you mean?”
“Your parents took a settlement. After everything in Ohio… the school board offered a private agreement to avoid a full-blown lawsuit. Quiet. No headlines. No depositions. Just a wire transfer and NDAs for everyone involved.”
