Page 87 of The Reckoning
The tension in the room ratchets up to an unbearable level.
“Enough!” Father’s command freezes everyone in place. “This ends now. Arson, you’re coming with us. Lilian, too. We’ll sort this out at home, away from prying eyes.”
“We aren’t going anywhere with you,” Arson challenges, still holding Patricia’s wrist, his grip tight enough to make her wince. “Nor can you make us.”
Father’s smile is cold, calculated. “Of course I can’t make you do anything, but I know people who can. Let me give the police chief a call. Report you for identity theft, fraud, and kidnapping. How long do you think it would take them to connect you to all of this? Especially with Aries’s statement about kidnapping and forced imprisonment. “
Arson’s expression doesn’t change, but I see the calculation behind his eyes. He’s cornered, and he knows it. Whatever move he makes now puts Lilian at risk.
“Fine,” he says finally, releasing Patricia with deliberate slowness. “Lilian stays out of it, though. She’s innocent.”
“No,” Lilian protests immediately, gripping his arm. “I’m not leaving you.”
“How touching,” Patricia sneers. “I’m afraid that’s not an option. You’re both coming home. Now.”
I stand frozen at the door, watching as a security team moves in, Father issuing clipped instructions about transporting them separately and securing the room for evidence. Watching as Lilian’s fearful gaze finds mine one last time, silently pleading for an explanation, for help, for anything but this betrayal.
I do nothing. Say nothing.The perfect Hayes son, falling in line when it counts.
Arson is the last to be led out, flanked by two burly guards. As he passes me, he pauses, leaning in close enough that only I can hear his whispered words.
“I hope it was worth it, Brother, because I won’t be dumb enough to fall for your betrayal a third time. Next time, I’m ending you.”
I have nothing to say. I deserve his anger, his hate. In an instant, he’s gone, marched down the hallway with Lilian toward the common room. I remain in the doorway of my empty dorm room, surrounded by the wreckage of what might have been. Thesheets still warm from their bodies. The air is still heavy with the scent of them.
The promise of a fresh start, of redemption—all of it gone. At least for now.
I’ve made my choice. I’ll let Richard and Patricia think I’ve chosen the path of least resistance, the devil I know over the uncertain future Lilian, Arson, and I might have forged together. I’ve chosen to be the heir, the golden child, the survivor rather than the savior.
Soon enough, they’ll learn I’ve really chosen to beat them at their own game.
I turn away from the empty room, from the ghost of possibility that lingers there, and follow my father down the hallway. Back to the life I was groomed for. Back to the cage I’ve chosen for myself. Behind me, on the rumpled bed, lies Lilian’s inhaler.
Forgotten in the chaos. Small and insignificant, yet suddenly the most important object in the world—her lifeline, abandoned.
Like her. Like Arson. Like the person I might have become if I’d found the courage to choose differently all those years ago.
I take a deep breath because they have to get out of the Mill House to do anything that might hurt Arson or Lilian, and I don’t plan on letting them leave without making them first pay for their own sins.
Drew steps into the hall, his hair disheveled. “What’s going on?”
I wave him back. “Stay out of sight up here. I’ll handle this for now. If I need you, I’ll call for you guys.”
Drew nods and steps around me toward Lee’s door. “Then handle it. We’ll be listening.”
I nod once, my heart in my throat.
Drew nods back. “I’m here for you. We’re all here for you. All three of you.”
TWENTY-FIVE
LILIAN
The Mill House common room feels too small for all the tension it’s currently holding.
No, I can’t let them take me home. Who knows what they will do to me. I cough once, drop to my knee, forcing the guard to release my arm. I risk a glance, and he looks panicked.Good.I cough again. “I need...I need my inhaler.” It takes nothing to wheeze out a breath.
To fake what I’ve been forced to endure for years. “I can’t...breathe. Just give me a minute.” I move toward the fireplace as though I need a little air. What I really need is space to think. Richard paces by the fireplace like a caged animal while my mother drops to the edge of the leather sofa, not a wrinkle in her cream silk blouse despite the morning’s chaos.
