My sisters haven’t shared anything further. They told them it was up to me what to reveal, but both made it clear to me they think it’s time to tell the truth.
I can’t imagine it. I can’t see myself saying the words.
We agreed from the very beginning that no one could ever know.
Do I think we can trust them? Maybe.
Do I know they will never look at us the same again? Absolutely.
Knowing Jared Whiteman’s blood runs in our veins…why would they want anything to do with us after they find out?
At this point, what does it matter? Enzo already wants nothing to do with me. Eva is at risk because of our actions. Hudson put his life on the line,again, last night.
I can confess, they will agree they want nothing to do with us, and my sisters and I can move on. It’s for the best.
I finish dressing just as there’s a soft knock on the door.
“Jane?” Hudson’s voice. Gentle. Careful.
I open it and he’s there. He looks tired and relieved and impossibly familiar. The sight of him hits me harder than I expect. My chest tightens.
“Hey,” he says quietly.
“Hey.”
He pulls me into a hug before I can overthink it. It’s warm. Solid. Real. I let myself lean into it a moment longer than necessary.
“I’m glad you’re okay,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to my forehead.
“Thank you for coming,” I say, my voice rough. “For everything you did last night.”
He pulls back just enough to offer me a kind smile. “It was the least I could do after you saved my life last week.”
I offer a small smile, and we just look at each other for a few moments.
“Honestly, Pippa, it wasn’t a question. You know that, right?”
I offer a small smile and say thank you.
“So, Marco is serving dinner and everyone is waiting for us.” He doesn’t push. Doesn’t ask questions. Just offers me his arm to escort me downstairs. Hudson’s presence grounds me as we walk.
Dinner is set when we enter the dining room. Enzo sits at one end of the table, Eva at the other. Jules and Luna are side by side, across from the seats Hudson and I take. The symmetry feels intentional. Unavoidable.
Plates are served. Polite conversation fills the air for a few minutes—compliments about the food, small observations—normalcy stretched thin over something much heavier. Eventually, Chef Marco retreats to the kitchen.
Hudson squeezes my hand under the table. “If you’re ready,” he says quietly. He doesn’t let go.
My heart pounds so loudly in my ears, I’m sure they can all hear it, too. I clear my throat. “First, thank you—all of you—for coming to get me.” My throat tightens. “I’m sorry I put myself in that situation.”
“No one here blames you,” Eva says firmly.
Enzo leans forward slightly. “But we do have questions.” His tone is careful, measured. “You said some things about Maribel Island. I can make some guesses, but I’d rather hear the truth.” He pauses, then adds, “I know the six of us haven’t exactly had the smoothest start, but there’s a lot not being said. And I think it’s time we put all the cards on the table. That way, we can decide how we move forward.”
Luna exhales slowly. “We didn’t want to drag you all furtherin—not after Hudson was hurt, not with Eva being targeted as the leading suspect behind TruthDrop.”
“If I tell you,” I say quietly, “there is no going back. I don’t say that to be dramatic. I promise, it has been safer for you not to know. No one in the world knows the truth but the three of us.”
Hudson’s hand tightens around mine. “We need to know.”
