Page 88 of Penalty Kiss
I answer on the fifth ring.
"Lyn? It's Max."
His voice is clipped, stripped of the easy charm I know. Traffic hisses behind him, like he’s calling from a corner instead of his usual corner office.
Maximus Delacroix—middle child, eternal peacemaker between my oldest half-brother, Laurent's ambition and my rebellion.
"Max." I sink into a terrace chair, legs suddenly unsteady. "What's wrong?"
"I don't have much time," he says, "Listen carefully. Lucien's completely off the rails."
My stomach drops. "What do you mean?"
"I heard he's been bragging about 'handling the situation.' Dad doesn't know the extent—thinks Lucien's just tracking you to bring you home. But it's much worse, Lyn. Much worse."
I close my eyes, my carefully built normalcy already feeling fragile. "What’s worse? How much worse?"
“He’s unstable, Lyn. Not just paranoid—he’s fixated. One day he’s bragging to associates that you’ll ‘be dealt with soon,’ the next he’s pacing the office asking me just how good your memory is. He repeats himself like he’s trying to convince his own brain. People are starting to avoid him—his charm’s gone, all that’s left is this wild edge.”
I close my eyes, trying to focus. I don’t tell Max that Lucien’s already been showing up in town. No need tosend him into panic.
"What I might remember?" The words taste hollow but I need to make sure. "Max, I haven't been involved in company business for years."
"I don’t think that's how he sees it. He thinks you have proof of his dealings. Maybe you saw something. Your... gift makes him nervous."
Of course. My eidetic memory. In a family where information is currency, remembering everything is either an asset or a loaded gun.
“You know how he is with Dad—always too smooth, too agreeable, like he’s rehearsing loyalty. But at the last board meeting, the second Dad stepped out, Lucien leaned in and whispered thathe’s the one who knows how to protect the family.It’s slippery. Dangerous. Like he’s playing both sides of a chessboard.”
“There’s something,” I say slowly. “Not about core Delacroix operations—something peripheral. I’d briefly traced transfers through subsidiaries tied to Lucien. A lot of the cash routes look…dirty. Offshore channels, odd wire patterns. If Father ever sees that, Lucien’s got some explaining to do.”
“There must be more to it. Will you dig deeper, Lyn? See if he’s been moving pieces—transferring money, calling in favors, that sort of thing. If you find anything concrete, I’ll take it to Dad and we’ll handle it properly.”
“Max, I don’t want to be involved.”
“But you already are, Lyn. What if he comes after you for real? He’s desperate. And you know better than anyone—Lucien doesn’t play by rules. He makes them up as he goes, and .
I shiver at the memory of being pushed down the stairs but I don’t have the heart to tell Max what’s already going on here.
Through Cedar Grounds' glass doors, I watch the Wilders and Cam at our table. Hana laughing at something Cam said, face bright with joy. Erik is smiling too—not professional courtesy, but genuine warmth. Luke stealing bites of his brother's breakfast, getting swatted away.
It’s perfect. Everything I didn’t know I wanted—acceptance, belonging, the promise of being part of something good and real and safe.
Because I know the other version of this. Parents who watch every move with the same intensity, but not to celebrate it—to control it.
My dad loves me, I never doubted that. But his love has always been the kind that smothers while calling it protection, that holds you so tightly you stop being able to breathe. He thinks keeping me close means keeping me safe, when really it just meant keeping me his.
The Wilders hover too, but I can feel the difference. Their questions are concern, not surveillance. Their presence is weight, not chains.
And I know how quickly Lucien can turn the Wilders into leverage. He’ll torch everything I’ve found here. My new life—he’ll destroy it.
"Max," I say quietly, "what else do you know?"
"He's coming. Maybe not today, tomorrow, but soon. And when he does..." Max's voice cracks slightly. "I don't think he plans to bring you home, Lyn. I think he plans to make sure you never come home."
My phone feels heavy. The threats were real—and more are coming. It only takes one to be fatal.
"Also," Max continues. "Dad's been asking about you. Not angry asking—worried asking. I think he misses you more than he admits. He’s getting old, Lyn. But Lucien's feeding him misinformation, convincing him you need 'intervention.' I’m keeping an eye on it... but—"
