Page 12 of Betray Me
“Your family destroyed itself years ago. You’re just now seeing the rot that was always there.” Max heads for the door, pausing at the threshold. In profile, he looks like a dark angel—beautiful and dangerous in equal measure. He gestures at the folder in my hands. “Be careful, Belle. Your parents suspectyou kept some evidence instead of burning it all. They’re more dangerous than you could even imagine.”
He vanishes into the night, leaving me alone with truths I’m not sure I wanted—and the lingering image of a man I thought I knew but am only now beginning to see clearly.
I make my way back through the darkness, the flash drive burning in my pocket like a confession. In my room, I add it to my hidden collection along with the folder Max asked me to bring but never requested to see. Was it some kind of a test to see if he could trust me? I sit on my bed with my phone in my hand.
David Stone’s number glows on the screen. One call, and I could end this. Hand over everything—the documents, the photos, the surveillance footage. Watch as my parents’ trial starts, my mother arrested for murder, my father for trafficking and conspiracy. Burn the Gallagher empire to ash.
I think of Janet Wilson’s parents—her mother is still searching for her daughter after five years. Of Luna, carrying questions and quite possibly feelings of guilt for a crime she didn’t commit. Of all the other girls whose names I’ll never know, bought and sold by people like my parents.
And I think of Max, of the pain in his eyes when he spoke of Janet, of the risk he’s taking by helping me. Of how wrong I was about him all these years.
My finger hovers over the call button.
The black rose sits on my nightstand, its preserved petals reflecting the moonlight. Death and rebirth. An ending and a beginning.
I put down the phone. I’m not ready to make that call just yet.
Chapter 5: Survival Strategy
Before
I press my back against the cold marble wall outside Father’s study, my silk nightgown doing nothing to warm the chill that has settled into my bones. The grandfather clock in the foyer chimes midnight, its deep resonance vibrating through the mansion’s halls. Three years. Three years of these gatherings, and I’m still here. Still breathing. Still fighting to find pieces of myself in the wreckage they’ve made of my childhood.
The voices drift through the heavy oak door, muffled but urgent. Father’s tone carries that particular edge it gets when business isn’t going according to plan.
“—The Queen girl is proving more useful than anticipated,” he says, ice clinking against crystal as he pours another drink. “Dominic’s methods are… efficient.”
“She’s not broken yet,” Mother’s voice responds, sharp with disapproval. “Sebastian’s daughter still has too much fire. It makes her unpredictable.”
“Fire can be controlled, channeled. Our girl, on the other hand…”
My breath catches. They’re talking about me.
“Belle is becoming a liability,” Mother continues, and my heart hammers against my ribs. “Tonight was… difficult. Morrison was particularly aggressive, and she fought back. Left scratches on his face.”
The memory crashes over me—Morrison’s sweaty hands pinning my wrists to the velvet sofa, his bourbon-soaked breath hot against my neck as I clawed at his face, desperate to escape. The taste of blood in my mouth where I’d bitten my tongue to keep from screaming.
“She’s fourteen, Olivia. Of course she’s fighting back. We need to adjust our approach.”
“Or find a different use for her,” Mother says, and something in her tone makes my skin crawl. “The Queen girl is perfect for entertainment. Perhaps Belle could be more valuable in a different capacity. Gathering information, perhaps?”
Gathering information. Not entertainment.
The words hit me like lightning, illuminating a path I hadn’t seen before. Luna Queen—the mysterious daughter of the Queens who’s been mentioned in whispered conversations for months. She’s like me, another daughter of the network, but she’s good at entertainment.
I’m not good at that, but gathering information… I could do that. I’m smart, observant. I notice things others miss—the way Judge Patterson’s wedding ring leaves a tan line when he removes it during gatherings, the way Senator Caldwell’s assistant always carries a second phone, the way certain guests receive special treatment while others are clearly expendable.
“Belle lacks the Queen girl’s… conditioning,” Father agrees. “She’s too emotional, too reactive. Maybe she’d be good as a spy, but the training required to make her useful in that capacity would take years we don’t have.”
“She’s also your daughter,” Mother snaps. “Our blood. That carries weight in certain circles.”
My blood. My inheritance. The Gallagher name that opens doors and commands respect—could that be my salvation instead of my curse?
I slip away from the door before they can discover me, my bare feet silent on the cold marble. In my room, I curl up in the window seat overlooking the gardens, watching shadows dance across the manicured lawns. The moon is full tonight, casting everything in silver light that makes the world look like a fairy tale. But I know better than to believe in fairy tales.
By morning, I’ve made my decision.
I find Father in his study after breakfast, reviewing financial reports with the same cold precision he applies to everything else. Sunlight streams through the tall windows, highlighting the gray at his temples that’s appeared over the past year. The pressure of maintaining the network’s operations is aging him, making him more volatile and unpredictable.
