Page 59 of The Reckoning
I take another deep breath, forcing myself to continue. “Sophia slipped. The beam was wet or rotted, I don’t know. She fell. Hit her head on one of the boats on the way down, then landed in the water.”
The image is so vivid now—the girl’s body twisting in the air, the sickening thud as her head connected with the edge of the speedboat, the splash as she hit the water. The blood, spreading like spilled wine across the surface.
“Aries froze. Just stood there on the beam, staring down at the water where she’d disappeared. I yelled at him to do something, to help her, but he wouldn’t move. Couldn’t move.”
My voice hardens as the anger rises, familiar and comforting after the disorienting panic. “I was about to jump in after her when my mother appeared in the doorway. She must have heard the commotion and come looking for us.”
Lilian’s grip on my hand tightens, as if she senses what’s coming next.
“She saw Sophia in the water, saw the blood. Didn’t hesitate. Went in after her.” My throat constricts around the words, making them come out strangled. “She managed to grab Sophia, push her toward the edge where I could reach her. But one of the smaller boats—a canoe or something that was hanging from the ceiling—it fell. Hit the water, capsized. Trapped her underneath.”
The memory is crystal clear now—my mother’s face, visible through the dark water for just a moment, her hand pushing Sophia’s limp body toward the edge where I knelt. Then came the crash as the boat fell, followed by the terrible stillness that ensued.
No.I shake my head, trying to bring the memories back like the dark, hazy surface of the water that day. She was listing to the side before she jumped in, almost like she didn’t have her balance. Then when she didn’t come back up...
“I tried to lift the boat to get to her, but I wasn’t strong enough.” My voice cracks on the admission, the failure that has haunted me for years. “I wasn’t fucking strong enough.”
Lilian makes a small sound, something between sympathy and pain. Her other hand comes up to my face, her thumb brushing away moisture I hadn’t realized was there.
“By the time Richard and the others arrived, it was too late. Sophia was unconscious but breathing. My mother was—” I can’t say it, even now. “Gone.”
“Arson,” Lilian whispers, and just my name in her voice nearly breaks me.
“Aries was still up on that fucking beam,” I continue, the words bitter as bile. “Still hadn’t moved. Just watching everything happen below him like it was a movie, like it wasn’t real.”
I pull my hand away from hers, needing the distance, needing the anger to get through this next part.
“Richard took one look at the situation and made a decision. Protect the heir. Protect the golden child.” I laugh, the sound harsh and humorless. “He told everyone I pushed Sophia. That I caused the accident that killed my mother when she tried to save the girl.”
Lilian’s eyes widen in shock. “But that’s not?—”
“True? No. But it was convenient.” I stand, unable to remain still any longer, pacing the small confines of the room. “Aries was the one they wanted. The perfect son. The worthy heir. I was just…extra. Disposable.”
“So they sent you away,” Lilian says, realization dawning. “To the Facility. Aries didn’t say anything to try to protect you?”
I shrug. It wouldn’t have mattered. “Not right away. First came the psychological evaluations. The medications. The concerned discussions about my ‘violent tendencies’ and ‘unstable behavior.’ Richard made sure there was a paper trail, a documented history of problems.”
The memories of those months after the accident are almost worse than the accident itself—the way everyone looked at me, the whispers, the sudden fear in eyes that had previously held only indifference.
“Aries might have told the truth, but it did nothing to help me. He just went along with Richard’s version of events, nodding when asked if I’d been acting strangely, if I’d threatened Sophia, if I’d been jealous of the attention she was giving him.”
“Maybe he believed it,” Lilian suggests gently. “Trauma can do strange things to memory, especially in children.”
I stop pacing to stare at her incredulously. “Are you defending him?”
“No,” she says quickly. “I’m just trying to understand.”
“There’s nothing to understand. He was a coward then, and he’s a coward now.” I resume my agitated movement, unable to contain the energy coursing through me. “By the time I was sent to the Facility, everyone believed the official story. Even Aries, probably. It’s amazing what the mind can do to protect itself from guilt.”
“What about Sophia?” Lilian asks. “Didn’t she remember what happened?”
“Traumatic brain injury,” I reply flatly. “Convenient memory loss. And her family was well-compensated for their silence. A new vacation home in the Hamptons. Private school for Sophia and her brother. Amazing how money can buy people’s morality.”
Lilian is quiet for a moment, processing everything I’ve told her. When she speaks again, her voice is careful, measured. “And all these years, you’ve never told anyone the truth?”
“Who would believe me? The troubled twin? The violent one? The crazy one they had to lock away for everyone’s safety?” The bitterness in my voice could corrode metal. “Besides, what would be the point? My mother would still be dead. Nothing would change.”
“Justice would change,” Lilian says softly. “The truth would change.”
