by Leia Thorne
“What happened after Sawyer and I left the penthouse?” I demand. “What happens after the video cuts off?”
She glances away, at the bookshelf behind me, a glazed look on her face. “I don’t know,” she says, her voice unaffected. “The surveillance feed was interrupted. A poor Wi-Fi signal possibly.”
Bullshit. “I want the rest of that footage, Tabatha.” I walk toward the door, pausing to add: “I have my own videos I could release, you know. Lesley was quite the little porn star.” I wink at her, then turn to leave.
“Fine,” she says, halting me once more. “You win, Gage. Give me time to put my event together; the masquerade takes all of my focus.” She sighs. “Then I’ll have the footage delivered to you from the authorities, and you can see for yourself there’s nothing there.”
At my raised eyebrow, she adds, “I don’t have a copy, I assure you. In the meantime, it would be wise if you kept your theories to yourself where Remi is concerned. Am I understood?”
I nod once. “Yes, chairwoman. Thank you for your time.”
As I step outside, I lower my shades, blocking out the afternoon sun. I don’t need another spotlight on me. Being exiled from the society used to be my biggest worry. Now, I’ll be lucky to make it to the end of senior year alive.
How do you defend yourself against a powerful enemy who is bent on your demise?
The Art of War is timeless; its preachings relevant in every aspect of life.
The enemy of my enemy is my friend.
I need to find a bigger, more powerful enemy of Tabatha de Pont.
Chapter 9
Remi
Between studying for the SATs and being with the Broken Saints, I’ve been spending a fair amount of time with Tabatha. Every afternoon that I can get to myself, I head to her stables, where I try to charm Heathcliff.
I offer him a carrot as I pet the long bridge of his nose. “Today is the day, Heathcliff,” I say. “Today we ride solo.”
I brought Palmer along with me today as she’s not only an exceptional dancer, she’s graceful atop a horse as well. She’s already mounted Misty, an all-white mare who is every bit as elegant and nimble as Palmer herself.
“See you on the trail today?” she asks.
I chuckle, and Heathcliff snorts. “I’m going to try.”
She smiles down at me. “You can do it. Just don’t think too hard on it.” She glances around the stable. “Do you think Mrs. de Pont will invite me today?”
I shrug. “Maybe. I’ll work on it.”
Ever since the Broken Saints’ meeting the morning after homecoming, Palmer and I have been working toward our goal to honor Lesley at the masquerade ball…and distract the students of Brighton from the rumors. Initially, Tabatha was hesitant when I suggested an essay contest, but then she took to the idea of reading the academy’s heartfelt thoughts of her daughter.
Students submit an essay on the topic of “how the loss of Lesley de Pont has affected them”, and one winner is selected to be invited to the masquerade. With Brighton abuzz, students all vying for the opportunity to attend Crescent Valley’s most exclusive event, most of the rumors about Rush and Roland have been quieted.
Palmer has spent a tremendous amount of effort to help me coordinate the essay contest, and we both hope that Mrs. de Pont will choose to invite her due to this. Because—and I’m delighted that Palmer is seeing this for herself—Gage’s promise to get Palmer an invite hasn’t transpired yet.
One by one, his Saints are leaning more on me than him. And maybe my revenge can be just that simple; taking away what he most values, his precious Broken Saints.
“Come on, girl.” Palmer clicks her tongue and taps her heel against Misty’s side, urging her through the stable gate.
I watch Palmer lead the mare onto the trail, and for some reason, Sawyer pops into my thoughts. She’s been MIA for at least a week. Sawyer’s not technically out—as you’re never out of the society. She’s just focusing on her studies and school. At least, that’s the reason she gave to Palmer and Emry.
Gage set the rule: we’re to avoid Sawyer as long as she avoids us. It’s a cold war. A standoff. With no end in sight if no one is the first to yield.
I think about what Sawyer last said to me, about how I’m no match to take on Gage. And maybe she’s right. But every day that I get one step closer to mounting this horse on my own, every day that I get closer to my inheritance, I’m becoming stronger, more independent.
I just want one moment of looking into Gage’s beautiful eyes and seeing the mirrored pain that I felt, that he caused—that I’ve been feeling every time I think of how he used me to get to Sawyer. It’s been difficult the past couple of weeks while playing a part. I feel like he knows something is off with me, but I try to keep him distracted. I just need a little more time to figure out where to hit that will cause the most damage.
I pet Heathcliff's mane. It took a while for him to get to know me, but he’s finally allowed me to be close to him. I’m nervous to take him out. I wanted to start with a tamer horse. I don’t know if it’s because I resemble his previous rider, and the fact that I am not her, that has him spooked whenever I get near, but we’re still working on trusting each other.
“He’s really starting to take to you.” Mrs. de Pont enters the stable. She takes a saddle off the wall hook and walks toward me. “Here. You do the honors.”
I accept the saddle and move to place it atop Heathcliff as Tabatha bridles the horse. I’ve waited patiently for her to reveal what she knows of my parents’ past and my grandmother. We danced around the topic a couple of times, but something always seems to interrupt us. Either her work, or the inclusion of Palmer. Maybe it’s for the best.
So it shocks me silent when she suddenly says: “Martha St. James disowned her son when he chose to wed your mother, Mary Thatcher.”
After a moment, I collect myself and glance over my shoulder, making sure Palmer is out of hearing range. “Why would Martha do that?”
Tabatha sighs. “You have to understand, Remi. Martha had very high standards, and your mother was…”
“Poor?” I had known this. My mother’s parents didn’t have much money. They always came to visit us, my granny giving me birthday cards with a few dollars tucked inside, like it would buy me a fabulous toy. I never minded; I loved them. They were kind and loving.
“Among other things,” she replies delicately. “It wasn’t founded in truth, just idle town gossip when it comes to the not ridiculously well off. But Mary had a reputation. She went to public school. She was a townie, worked as a waitress, and was in search of a wealthy boy that attended Brighton.”
She’s trying to say—in a subtle way—that my mother slept around. I let this sink in with no remark, and she continues. “Don’t worry, Remi. It wasn’t true. From what I recall of your mother and father, they were very much in love.” She smiles. “But, Martha was vehemently against their courtship, and she forbade your father from seeing Mary. You can’t control nature though…”
I back away from the horse and approach her. “What do you mean?”
She tucks a stray wisp of hair behind my ear, her touch meant to console. Oh god…how bad is it? “Remi dear, your mother became pregnant.”
“Wait… How old were they? Not in high school.” I smile nervously. “My mother said she was twenty when she got pregnant with me.”
It starts to resonate then. As she meets my eyes, her mouth turning down in a sympathetic frown, that she’s not referring to me. I take in a quick breath. “Oh.” It’s all I can say.
“I’m sorry, Remi. I’m sure your father would be mortified to know I’m telling you this…”
“No. I want to know.” I nod hesitantly.
She moves closer. “Martha was adamant that your father get rid of the baby,” she says. “She demanded they abort it and for your father to never see your mother again. He refused, of course. Like I said, he loved your mother.”
I shake my head, confuse
d. “I don’t understand. I don’t have any siblings. Did they lose the baby?”
She takes in a fortifying breath. “When your father refused Martha’s demands, she threatened to disown him. Cut him off completely. Now, you have to remember, your father was only eighteen at the time. His college tuition already paid, his future already set in stone. That’s a very scary threat for a young person.”
Okay…
“A compromise was reached,” she says. “Arrangements made. Mary would carry the baby to term, and it would be adopted in secret.”
My heart stutters.
I have a brother or sister out there somewhere…
Another thought occurs. Lesley’s letter. How she described Gage and Sawyer’s cruelty, the games they played with her. Very much like what they did to me. Mrs. de Pont had said that Gage wanted something from Lesley, and when he didn’t get his way… What?
“Does Gage know about this?” I ask. “About my family?”
Her dark brows draw together. “No, dear. Of course not. Nobody knows. Your grandmother was very careful. Nondisclosure agreements signed across the board for all parties.”
Right. But… “Then, how do you know?”
She touches my shoulder, to either comfort me or prevent me from fleeing. “I could never have children of my own.”
Oh, my god… With just her profession, the pieces start to fall in place.
Lesley.
“What are you saying?” I ask, needing her to say the words out loud, to hear the truth once and for all.
“Martha wanted a private adoption,” she says. “She knew that I had been struggling for years to become pregnant. She came to me, and I admit, I was weak. All I heard was there was going to be this baby that would end up in an adoption agency…and then who knew where else, and I couldn’t stop myself. From the moment she said the words, planted the idea in my head, I was already that child’s mother in my heart.”
I step out of her hold. An ill feeling coats my stomach. “You adopted Lesley,” I say.
“Yes.” She nods. “And I loved her with all of my heart.”
I hold up a hand, needing a moment to…breathe.
But she continues, making me hear the truth. “Lesley was your biological sister, Remi.”
A low beat drums in my ear, my heart starting to race. My head spins, and I reach out toward the wall to brace myself. I want to deny it—but the proof has been staring me in the face this whole time. Literally my face staring back at me from every picture of Lesley.
“I need to go,” I say, walking my hands along the stable wall to escape. “I have to talk to my dad.”
“Remi…” She grabs my wrist, halting me. “I beseech you not to involve him.”
A laugh springs free. “Beseech me?” Is she kidding? I shake my head, regretting it when the ground tilts. “How can I not involve him?”
“What are you going to say? Dredge up old, painful memories? To what end?” She steps closer to me and lays a gentle hand on my shoulder. “Hasn’t he suffered enough? What will reminding him of the past accomplish?”
I swallow down the hard lump in my throat. My eyes well with tears. I sniff them back. As I meet her eyes, I ask, “Why did you tell me this then?”
She takes a sobering breath. “You turn eighteen in just a couple of weeks,” she says. “Remi, you and your sister may not carry my bloodline, but I loved Lesley as if she were my own. She was my daughter. And as a de Pont, she was meant to inherit a very grand position.”
My mind is whirling with too much information. What is she saying? “I don’t understand.”
“I’m entrusting you with a very important secret,” she says, lowering her voice. “I’m the chairwoman of a powerful secret society, and Lesley was to supersede me.”
All logic vacates this stable. I laugh, I can’t help it. I’ve heard Gage talk about societies, and I know he’s obsessed with them. I know it’s his ultimate goal once he goes off to college, to be accepted into some frat boy secret society… He wants it so badly that he even created his own little group of society members. I honestly thought it was just an elite prep school thing; another way for the disgustingly rich to feel even more superior.
But hearing Mrs. de Pont say the words…
“This is insane,” I say, and I start toward the stable gate.
“I know this is a lot to process, Remi,” she calls after me. “Please. Don’t run away.” A beat, then: “Gage killed my little girl.”
This stops me. I plant a hand against the gate, stare at the dirt. The world doesn’t make sense right now.
“Gage wanted to steal the position for himself,” she continues. “He messed with Lesley’s mind, he ruined her. He might as well have thrown her off the balcony, because his devious tactics to destroy her and steal her birthright pushed her to end her life.”
I swallow hard, my heart hammering violently in my chest. I would deny it now if not for the letter written in Lesley’s own hand. When I feel strong enough to turn around and face Mrs. de Pont, I take in a shallow breath.
“I think he was trying to do the same to me,” I confess. Gage is all about secrets; it’s his currency. If he somehow knew the truth about Lesley being my biological sister, then he had to have known that Mrs. de Pont might make this offer to me. Out of grief, or loneliness I’m not sure…but she has. And all this time, I thought his endgame was Sawyer.
It’s far more nefarious.
I walk over to the horse gate where I placed the saddle. I lift it with numb hands, then I saddle Heathcliff with no hesitancy in my movements.
“No matter what you choose,” Tabatha says, “I will not let Gage hurt you. I promise.”
I place my booted foot in the stirrup and mount Heathcliff with zero fear. “He already has,” I say, petting the horse’s mane. “But I’m stronger than he thinks. Thank you, Tabatha—” I meet her glassy eyes “—you’ve given me a lot to think about. I promise to consider your offer.” I nudge Heathcliff and lead him out of the stable.
This is my triumphant moment, but I feel none of it, my whole body and mind numb.
By the time I meet Palmer on the trail, my world has changed. I’m not sure I can ever find the girl I used to be again.
Taking away his little high school clique won’t be enough. Gage losing Sawyer won’t be enough. My petty revenge for bruised feelings was so lame…
He destroyed one girl, and he’s determined to destroy me.
That’s his endgame.
And he has to be stopped.
Chapter 10
Sawyer
I set this whole tragedy in motion. As I had been the one to discover Lesley was adopted, it’s all on my head. Honestly, I had stumbled upon that information completely by accident, and it’s frustrating to discover that a family history of a person isn’t that easily obtained when trying to find it intentionally.
Roland and I have been searching the Internet for Remi’s background and coming up with very little. Not even my life is this well-hidden. Either their family is the most boring family in the world, or someone purposely wants to remain off the radar.
I ease back from the laptop and drive my fingers through my hair. “This is pointless,” I say. What’s even more infuriating is the fact that Gage knows the truth, and I can’t just simply ask him.
Or can I? “Shit,” I curse.
“What?” Roland says. He’s sitting across from me at my dining room table.
My mother and Marshall are away planning their wedding. It’s a destination wedding. New Zealand. I know…super pretentious. But it at least gets my mother out of my hair for a while.
I look up at Roland, and a pang hits my chest. I’ve been so invested in this search—we’ve both been so invested—that we’ve done an exceptional job of ignoring the pain that being around each other causes. But every once in a while, it hits me like a mallet. Right in the chest.
I clear my throat. “Why don’t we just hack Gage’s computer?” I say.
&n
bsp; Roland’s eyes narrow. “You can do that?”
“Me? No…but I might know someone who can, and this person may be willing to do so if there’s a promise that Gage might be annihilated in the near future.” I pick up my phone and text Bryce Kingsley.
Gage has been blackmailing him for the past two years. Ever since he discovered Bryce was living a duplicitous life as a male escort. Which is a tactful way of saying something that is far more salacious.
I fire off the text, and wait. My phone rings, and it’s Bryce’s number on the screen.
“I need your help,” I say, giving him a quick rundown of what I need.
He chuckles. “I’ve had access to his computer for years. There’s nothing there. Believe me, I’ve looked.”
Of course he has. He’s probably been trying to get out from underneath Gage for a long time. Shit. I palm my forehead, thinking. “Do you know anyone?” I ask.
“Sorry, Sawyer. If I could help, trust me, I’d be the first to help take Gage down a few pegs.”
I end the call. “Dammit.”
Roland stands and walks around the table toward me. “There’s probably nothing on any of his devices, anyway,” he says. “Astor is good about keeping his secrets hidden.”
I nod in agreement. As I look up at Roland, my heart flutters at his nearness. I reach out to touch his arm, and he backs away.
“I should go,” he says. “We’re not getting any closer.”
“To finding the truth, or us?” I ask.
“Both,” he says, turning his back to me.
“Roland…” I follow after him. “Just stop. Haven’t you punished me enough?”
He shakes his head, then faces me. “This isn’t about punishment, Sawyer. You’re so warped. I just simply do not want to be with you. I’m done.”
