Chapter 17 The laptop screen burns my eyes after hours of staring at it, scrolling through financial records, property deeds, and corporate filings-anything that might reveal why my backers are suddenly pushing their timeline. Why are they so interested in Lilian? After all this time, why now? The warehouse is quiet this afternoon. Aries went out to meet with some contact-against my advice, but nobody gives a shit what I think. Lilian's been in the shower for the past twenty minutes, the distant sound of running water the only thing breaking the silence. I rub my eyes, trying to focus on the screen again. Something's missing. There's some missing connection I'm not seeing. These men didn't invest millions in my revenge plot out of the goodness of their fucking hearts. They want something. Something specific. And it has to do with Lilian. She's the only connection I can think of. They might have kidnapped her to get to Aries and me, but they didn't really hurt her, and they accepted my request for more time too quickly after all the trouble of catching her. It's been bothering me for the past couple of days. When we first met, a couple of years ago now, they found me at the edge of the campus stalking Aries. So why had they been stalking Aries in the first place? The deal we made involved them setting me up completely to bring down the Hayes empire. They asked it be done quickly, once the warehouse was in place, even going so far as to make sure I had extra resources to set up my very specific revenge for Aries. However, they never set a strict timeline for when they wanted my work done, and they didn't start escalating things until Lilian entered the picture. I did what research I could on the guys. The older one is always the one in charge. I think the other is his son, but they never seemed to talk to each other as father and son. Nor had they ever let a single name slip in all the time we spoke. Instead, they used mutually assured destruction as a means of leverage between us. On a hunch, I search for information about the day of the boathouse incident. It's not something I do often-deliberately dredge up the worst day of my life-but my gut tells me I'm missing a connection there. I find photos from that summer gathering at the lake house, everyone dressed in white like some Great Gatsby bullshit. Richard with his first wife, my mother, Elizabeth. And there's Patricia-not as Richard's wife yet, but as his assistant, hovering at the edges of the frame. She worked for him back then, years before they married after my mother's death. Patricia knew Richard. Patricia was there that day at the lake house. Patricia witnessed what happened. The realization sends me hurtling back-not to a forgotten memory, but to one I've spent years trying to bury. The lake house. Summer. The boathouse. My mother's face disappearing beneath the dark water. I slam the laptop shut, as if that might block out the memories that are always there, lurking just beneath the surface of my consciousness. The ones that fuel my rage, my revenge, and my entire existence since that day. "Fuck," I mutter, pressing the heels of my hands against my eyes. "Fuck, fuck, fuck." "Arson?" I whirl around to find Lilian standing in the doorway, hair still damp from her shower, concern etched across her features. I must look as unstable as I feel because she approaches cautiously, like she's dealing with a wild animal. "What's wrong?" she asks, glancing at the laptop, then back at me. "Did you find something?" I can't answer immediately. The memories of the boathouse-memories I've carried for years, ones that have shaped every aspect of my existence-are too close to the surface. My throat feels tight, my chest constricted. It's been years since I've had a panic attack, but I recognize the signs. "Hey, hey." Lilian's voice cuts through the roaring in my ears. She's closer now, her hand hovering near my arm like she wants to touch me but isn't sure if she should. "Breathe with me, okay? In through your nose, out through your mouth." I follow her lead mechanically, dragging in air through my nose and forcing it out through my mouth. Once, twice, three times. The room stops spinning gradually, the edges of my vision clearing. "That's it," she encourages, her voice soft in a way I'm not used to people speaking to me. "Just keep breathing." When I can finally speak again, the words come out rough, scraping against my throat. "I found something. About your mother. And the boathouse incident." "My mother?" she asks, finally allowing her hand to settle on my arm. The touch grounds me, giving me something to focus on besides the memories that threaten to pull me under again. I open the laptop and show her the photo. "Patricia was there. The day my mother died. She worked for Richard back then, before they got married." Lilian studies the image, her fingers hovering over the screen as if she could touch the people in it. "She was there that day?" "Looks that way," I say, watching her reaction carefully. "She was Richard's assistant back then. Before they got married after my mother's death." Her eyes narrow slightly as she examines the photo. "She never told me she knew the Hayes family before Richard. Another lie in a lifetime of them." "Patricia's always been good at hiding things she doesn't want others to see," I comment, the bitterness in my voice impossible to disguise. "What happened that day?" Lilian asks, her voice gentle, like she knows she's treading on broken glass. "At the boathouse?" I've never told anyone the whole truth. Not that it matters-I've lived with it every day since it happened and replayed it in my mind so many times that it's etched into me like a scar. But looking at Lilian now, at the genuine concern in her eyes, at the absence of judgment or fear, something compels me to speak. "I was fourteen-we were fourteen," I begin, the words coming easier than expected. "It was summer. One of Richard's business gatherings at the lake house." I move back to the desk, turning the laptop so she can see the photo better. "Aries wanted to impress a girl." I pause. Her name was Sophia. Just a girl who'd been hanging out with us. One of Richard's business associate's daughters. He suggested they check out the boathouse. I followed them-not because I cared, but because I was bored. Fourteen-year-olds at an adult party, you know?" Lilian nods, pulling up another chair to sit beside me, close enough that I can smell the clean scent of her shampoo and feel the warmth radiating from her skin. "The boathouse was off-limits. Richard had been clear about that. It was being renovated, and it wasn't safe. Aries didn't care. He was always pushing boundaries, seeing what he could get away with." My hands clench involuntarily, nails digging into my palms. "He was climbing on the rafters, showing off. Dared Sophia to join him. She was hesitant, but he kept pushing. 'Don't be a baby,' he told her. 'It's perfectly safe.'" I can still hear his voice, see his smirk as he balanced on the wooden beam above the boats. So confident. So certain of his own invulnerability. "She finally gave in and started climbing up to join him. I stayed on the ground, watching. I knew it was stupid, but..." I shrug, the old familiar guilt settling heavy on my shoulders. "I didn't stop them." Lilian's hand finds mine, her fingers cool against my overheated skin. "You were just a kid," she says quietly. "So was Aries," I counter. "Didn't stop him from being a reckless asshole." 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." "Truth," I scoff. "The Hayes family wouldn't recognize the truth if it slapped them in their perfect faces." "I'm a Hayes," she reminds me. "And I want the truth. All of it." I stop pacing, really looking at her for the first time since this conversation began. She's still damp from her shower, dressed in borrowed clothes that are too big for her small frame, hair curling as it dries. She looks vulnerable, exhausted, pushed to her limits by revelations about her own life. Yet there's a steel in her gaze that I recognize-the same determination that's kept me going all these years and fueled my revenge when nothing else could. "The truth is ugly," I warn her. "It doesn't set you free. It just gives you new chains to carry." "I'll take my chances," she replies, rising to stand before me. "I'm tired of living in the dark, Arson. Tired of other people deciding what I get to know about my own life." Before I can respond, a movement in the doorway catches my attention. Aries stands there, face pale, eyes wide with shock. How long has he been listening? How much has he heard? "Aries," Lilian says, surprise evident in her voice. "You're back." He doesn't answer her, doesn't even look at her. His gaze is fixed on me, a storm of emotions I can't-or won't-decipher churning in eyes identical to my own. "Is it true?" he finally asks, his voice barely above a whisper. Something like confusion on his face. "Is that what really happened?" I meet his stare unflinchingly, all the rage and resentment of years bubbling just beneath my skin. "You tell me, Brother. You were there." He flinches as if I've struck him, one hand reaching out to steady himself against the doorframe. "I don't-I can't⁠-" "Remember?" I finish for him, contempt dripping from the word. "How convenient for you." "Arson," Lilian says, a warning in her tone. "Don't." I'm beyond warnings, beyond caution. Seeing him standing there, still playing the victim when he's been the architect of my destruction from the beginning, ignites something in me that can't be contained. "You let me take the blame," I say, each word precise and cutting. "You let them lock me away. You let them convince the world-convince me-that I was broken. Dangerous. Unworthy of freedom or family or basic fucking human dignity." "I didn't know," he whispers, but there's doubt in his voice, cracks forming in the narrative he's built around himself. "Bullshit," I spit. "You knew. Maybe not at first. Maybe not consciously. But part of you has always known the truth." Lilian moves between us, hands raised as if she can physically hold back the tide of rage and recrimination. "This isn't helping," she says firmly. "We need to focus on the present, on what's happening now." "Oh, I'm focused," I assure her, never taking my eyes off my brother. "I'm very focused. On getting you safely through whatever Patricia has planned. On destroying Richard and everything he's built. And when all that's done"-I take a step toward Aries, satisfaction flickering through me when he instinctively backs away-"you and I have a score to settle, Brother." For a moment, we stand frozen in tableau-me, vibrating with barely contained violence; Lilian, caught between us like she's always been; Aries, face drained of color, finally confronting the truth he's denied for so long. Without a word, he turns and walks away. No defense. No denial. No acknowledgment of what his cowardice cost me. Just the sound of his footsteps, fading down the hallway like the gutless retreat it is. "Arson," Lilian says quietly, her hand coming to rest on my arm. "He's been through a lot too." "I don't think I care about making things easier for him." I laugh, the sound harsh and grating even to my own ears. "I spent years in that place, Lilian. Years of 'treatments' and 'therapy' and being told that I was fundamentally broken. That I'd killed my own mother. That I deserved everything that happened to me." She doesn't flinch away from my anger, doesn't retreat like most people would. Instead, she steps closer, fearless in a way that continually surprises me. "I know," she says simply. "And it was wrong. All of it was wrong. But Aries isn't Richard. He was a child, too." "He was a coward," I correct her. "And he still is. Running away instead of facing what he did." "Maybe," she concedes. "Or maybe he's just as damaged as you are, but in a different way." I want to argue, to rage against the implication that my brother has suffered anything comparable to what I've endured. But the fight suddenly drains out of me, leaving only exhaustion in its wake. The memories, the confrontation, the constant vigilance required to keep my anger in check-it all takes a toll. "Just...give me some space," I say, turning back to the desk, to the research that now seems insignificant compared to the ghosts I've just unleashed. "I need to keep working." She hesitates, clearly reluctant to leave me alone with my demons. "Are you sure?" "Yes." I don't look at her, focusing instead on the screen, on the image of my mother standing next to Patricia, both of them unaware of the tragedies waiting just a few years ahead. "Please." After a moment, I hear her soft footsteps retreating, followed by the gentle click of the door closing behind her. Only then do I allow myself to sink back into the chair, bury my face in my hands, and feel the full weight of memories I've spent years trying to outrun. The boathouse. The beam. The fall. My mother's face beneath the water. Richard's cold calculation as he decided which son to save and which to sacrifice. The Facility, with its white walls and expressionless doctors and medications that turned the world gray. And through it all, Aries. Always Aries. The twin who got everything while I got nothing. The one who caused our mother's death and walked away without a scratch while I paid the price for his actions. The one who, even now, can't face the truth of what he did. When this is over, when Lilian is safe and Richard is destroyed, I'll have my reckoning with my brother. Not for revenge-I'm beyond that now. Instead, I want justice and the truth. For my mother, who deserved so much better than to die saving someone else's child from her son's recklessness. For Elizabeth Hayes, who loved both her sons, even the one everyone else deemed disposable.