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If only this were one of those fictional murder mystery setups where you put the whole cast into the library, explain the clues in order, and end with a nice, theatrical “the butler did it.”

Nothing is ever wrapped up so neatly in real life.

I can’t stop thinking about Henry. About Victoria. About the version of her I thought I understood and the one I keep uncovering piece by piece. This whole thing has shoved us into territory neither of us could have ever planned for.

At the end of the day, I owe it to them to follow the truth all the way through, no matter how nervous I feel now, and no matter how complicated things have become.

“It’s so hard to imagine her being a killer after all we’ve been through. I don’t even know how to go about this at all now,” I muse, forgetting where I am for the briefest of moments.

Theo hums. “I know. It doesn’t fit into this neat little box either of us hoped it would when we came here. But we can’t ignore what we found.” He twists a strand of my hair around his index finger, giving me an apologetic look. “No matter who it hurts. The truth deserves to be known.”

I let my head fall onto his shoulder, blowing out a shaky breath. “I guess what we’re both learning from this is that everything isn’t as black and white as we originally thought, to the point that it’s going to be downright painful. I wanted to do this for Emily. To help her, to give her answers. Closure. And now—” I trail off.

Theo strokes his fingers along the back of my neck, gentle and protective. “We don’t have to make a decision right away. I know she is your friend and she’s been through so much.”

I open my mouth to answer, but the words never make it out. Something in the space shifts almost imperceptibly, and Theo’s hand stills at the base of my neck.

I look up hoping for almost anyone else, but it’s Emily.

27

CHAIN REACTION

LILA

The shock of seeing her there nearly bowls me over and I feel so, so careless for not keeping my mouth shut.

For the love of Fanny, please tell me she didn’t hear any of that.

But what she says throws a wrench in any half-formed plan we may have had for our last day here. “You think I wanted to?”

She stands there, shoulders rigid, eyes bright with something that looks too close to panic.

“You think I’m her?” she whispers, voice unspooling, brittle and sharp all at once.

“Emily?” The word scrapes out of me. My brain can’t reconcile the girl in front of me with the one curled on the couch with me a few nights ago, laughing too loudly at one of Theo’s dry jokes, pink-cheeked from wine.

This version of her looks carved open.

She steps forward, chest heaving. “I didn’t mean to kill her, Lila. You have to understand.”

My vision tunnels.

“I just needed answers,” Emily continues, tears welling but not falling.

Shock floods my system, leaving everything else momentarily distant.

Beside me, Theo is still.

There is no surprise on his face.

He barely reacts.

I’m more thrown by that than what Emily is saying. I look him in the eyes and all I find is the calm of someone who saw this coming.

The room is still for a beat too long, right up until rapid footsteps sound in the hallway outside. The door pushes inward, and Baryn enters, unmistakably panicked. “Em⁠—”

“Stop.” The word splinters on its way out.