Total pages in book: 106
Estimated words: 99917 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 500(@200wpm)___ 400(@250wpm)___ 333(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99917 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 500(@200wpm)___ 400(@250wpm)___ 333(@300wpm)
It should be awkward, the three of us together like this, given our history, our competing claims, our complicated feelings. And it is, a little. But there’s also something unexpectedly right about it, like puzzle pieces finally finding their proper configuration after years of being forced into the wrong places.
“Peace offering,” Arson says, flipping open the box to reveal the still-steaming pizza. The scent of basil and cheese fills the room, momentarily overwhelming the tension. “Eat before it gets cold.”
Lilian sits up between us, reaching for a slice. “Thank you.”
We eat in surprisingly comfortable silence, passing napkins and trading slices without the usual tension of our interactions. It’s strange to see my brother like this—guard down, defenses temporarily lowered, human rather than the vengeful force that has dominated my existence these past months. In the dim light of the bedroom, with Lilian between us, I can almost remember the boy he was before everything went to hell. Before the boathouse. Before the lies.
“So,” Lilian says finally, breaking the silence. “Seven days to dig into my father’s death, figure out what they’re planning, and stop them from doing…whatever it is they want to do to me.”
“And to destroy the power of attorney,” I add, the lawyer in me already mapping out strategies. “There has to be a legal way to challenge it.”
“We’ll need help,” Arson admits grudgingly, the words sounding like they’re being dragged from him against his will. “Resources. Contacts.”
“Drew might know someone,” I suggest, ignoring the flash of irritation that crosses his face at the mention of my friend. “He has connections in legal circles.”
“I don’t trust him,” Arson says flatly, lip curling in distaste.
“Neither do I, at least not anymore,” I concede, thinking of how quickly Drew had accepted my “twin” in my place. Some friend. “But we’re short on allies at the moment.”
“We also need to find out more about my father’s trust,” Lilian says thoughtfully, picking at a piece of crust. “Mother’s had complete control of it since his death. I never questioned it before, but now…”
“Now you’re questioning everything,” I finish for her, understanding the feeling all too well. When your foundation crumbles, nothing feels solid anymore.
Lilian looks between us, a small smile playing at her lips despite everything. “Are you two actually agreeing on something? Should I check outside for flying pigs?”
“Don’t get used to it,” Arson mutters, but there’s no real heat in his tone. Just exhaustion and a reluctant acknowledgment of necessity.
I find myself smiling too, the expression feeling foreign after months of captivity and rage. “Consider it a temporary alliance. For the greater good.”
“The greater good being me, I presume?” Lilian asks, her teasing tone a welcome respite from the day’s trauma.
“Obviously,” Arson and I reply in perfect unison, then share a look of mutual surprise and discomfort at our synchronicity.
Lilian laughs then, the sound bright and unexpected in the dimly lit bedroom. It’s been so long since I’ve heard her laugh like that—genuine and without restraint—that for a moment I can only stare, captivated by the transformation it brings to her face. The weight lifts, the shadows recede, and for a second, I can see the girl she was before all this—before the drugs, before the lies, and before she got caught between my brother and me.
Arson seems equally affected, his expression softening in a way I wouldn’t have believed possible a week ago. For this moment, the hatred between us recedes, overshadowed by our shared appreciation of her joy, however fleeting it is.
“We’ll figure this out,” I promise her, meaning it with every fiber of my being. “Together.”
“Together,” she echoes, looking from me to Arson with something like hope in her eyes, fragile but real. “All of us.”
Arson meets my gaze over her head, a silent communication passing between us—not friendship, not forgiveness, but something approaching understanding. For now, for her, we’ll set aside our grievances. We’ll work as one.
The night settles around us, the warehouse quiet save for our breathing and the occasional rustle as we reach for another slice of pizza. Outside, the world continues its chaotic spin—Patricia plotting, Richard scheming, unknown “donors” waiting. In this room, on this bed, with Lilian safe between us, there’s a momentary peace I didn’t know I’d been craving.
Tomorrow will bring new dangers, new battles, and the resumption of old hatreds. But tonight, this strange triangular truce holds, fragile but real. And for now, that’s enough.
SIXTEEN
LILIAN
Morning light filters through the warehouse windows, painting the room in soft gold and shadow. I blink awake slowly, disoriented for a moment before remembering where I am. The events of yesterday come rushing back—Mother, the power of attorney, the mysterious procedure—but the panic that accompanied those revelations feels somehow more distant in the gentle morning light.
I’m still in bed, nestled between two warm bodies. Carefully, I turn my head to study them in their sleep.