Supposed proof, laid bare.
It burns through me, stripping away whatever illusions I had left, exposing a truth I was never meant to carry. I want to scream—at them, at Matt, at the universe—but the sound dies in my throat, swallowed by disbelief and fury. My chest tightens, every breath sharp and burning. My vision blurs, tears pressing close, but I force them back.
I won’t give these strangers the satisfaction of seeing me break.
Because that’s what we are now, isn’t it? Strangers. Enemies. Where once family and loyalty lived, now only judgment and condemnation remain. Family wouldn’t do this. Family would listen, argue, fight,protect, before casting one of their own into exile without a backward glance.
Cora and Owen flank me, their silent support barely a whisper against the roar of betrayal. Their presence should be enough, but it isn’t. Nothing is enough. Not the shaking of Cora’s hand in mine, not Owen’s tight-lipped worry. The weight of being cast out of my home, judged for sins I didn’t commit, presses down so hard I can barely breathe.
It’s only as Owen and Cora are ushering me out of the penthouse and into Jonathan’s private lift that the weight of everything the twins spat my way sinks in. My mother is dead,my father is tied to that sick and twisted ring that held Helen captive, and my mother very well could be the reason Cora was kidnapped. The reason Cole was killed. My head spins, my knees threaten to buckle under the weight of her sins.
The lift tilts, swaying with the dizzying rush of shock, grief, and rage. The city outside—the life I thought I had, the sanctuary I believed in, fractures into too many broken pieces to hold. And in that spinning, hollowing moment, the truth burns into me—the people I loved, the people I called family, have all turned their backs.
Now I’m alone, exiled from the place I once called home and betrayed by those I trusted. In the back seat of the car, familiar streets smear past the window for the last time. Nothing will ever be the same. How could it?
The stupid, trusting girl who entered that penthouse is dead. The one who walked out was born of ash and silence.
Chapter 30
The air between us is a storm waiting to break—thick, heavy, charged with everything we never said and everything we shattered. This was meant to be a stupid, carefree girls’ weekend. A plaster slapped over the cracks keeping the three of us apart.
Instead, Matt has come crashing back into my life like he never left, like he has any right to fuck with my head and my heart the way he does.
I want to scream. At him. At his father. At the universe and the cruel hand it keeps dealing me. I want answers—how he could stand there while his uncle and father tore me apart, how he could watch me drown without even throwing me a lifeline.
Clinging to the anger is easier than admitting the hollow ache beneath it. Easier than facing the truth that no amount of fury or distraction ever quite fills the space he left behind.
“You think I wanted this?” His voice is low and rough, cutting through the silence like a blade. “You think I wanted to be the guy who just stood there and watched you get pushed out? Who did nothing?”
I swallow. The hurt is a living thing beneath my ribs.
“Then why didn’t you say anything?” My voice trembles despite myself. “You knew me better than anyone. Yet you didnothing. Do you have any idea how much that tears me apart? Do you evencare?”
For a long moment, he doesn’t answer. His eyes search mine, closed off in a way they never used to be. I step back because the closer I am, the harder it is to think, the harder it is to keep my anger intact.
“Because I didn’t know what to think. Hell, I still don’t,” he says at last. “It wasn’t about not caring, Lil’. If anything, I cared too fucking much. That’s the problem. I couldn’t trust my own judgement when it came to you.”
The words land like blows. I close my eyes, and everything—good and bad—flares behind my lids. For every moment he made me feel like I was the only thing that mattered, there were twice as many where he made me doubt it was ever really true.
Abbie once called us toxic; back then, I scoffed, rolled my eyes, and told her she didn’t understand. Now the word sits in my chest like a shard of glass, crawling into the corners and making itself at home.
“You weren’t there,” I say, each word brittle. “Not when I needed you. You let them call me trash. You let them throw me out. And you—” My voice breaks. I can’t even finish.
He swallows and steps closer, his voice rough. “I froze. I thought I was protecting you. I just… didn’t know how.”
“Protecting me?” I scoff. The laugh that escapes is ugly, fractured. “From what? You chose your family over me.Again. Just like you did every single time.”
“I’m sorry.” His voice cracks. “I hate that I left you to deal with it alone. I was a coward.”
A hot, ugly pebble of anger lodges in my throat. “You were supposed to be my home. My safe place. But you weren’t.” I shake my head. “When I needed you most, you abandoned me.”
He closes the distance until I can see the ridge of his jaw, the tiny scar by his lip. Green eyes flare, fierce and raw.
“I’m here now,” he says. “I’m not asking you to forgive me, not yet. I know I haven’t earned it. But I can’t watch you walk away again, Lil’. It would kill me. I fucked up. I see that now. I just—” He exhales sharply. “I need you to talk to me. To help me understand what really happened. Those emails… they don’t make sense.”
His words hang in the air, heavy with tremor. Part of me wants to shove them back in his face, to tell him I hate him and leave and never look back. I should stick to the plan. I should be colder. But the tremble in his jaw and the quiet honesty in the brokenness of his voice claw at something stubborn and soft inside me that refuses to listen to reason when it comes to my stepbrother.
“Why now?” I whisper. “After everything, why come backnow?”
