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“Cut the fucking shit, Poppy. What the hell is going on?” Harper's voice cuts through the room like a knife. She suddenly stands and slaps her palms on the conference table, sending a jolt through me. It's the kind of sound that says negotiations have failed and ended. War is coming.
My next exhale feels like I'm deflating, a balloon of denial letting out its last pathetic wheeze. I’m a terrible liar. It's not that I've had a lot of practice at deception; it's more about creatively navigating around the truth. Yes, there's a hairline difference, but it's there. I never lied about my past; I just covered it up and buried it so deep Harper never sensed it. At the time, we had Peter's death to mourn, but now I have nothing to pivot our emotions to.
I feel exactly as I did days after the party: trapped. It's an uncomfortably familiar sensation. I can’t mourn or consider what I just found out because I have to find a way to escape it and move their eyes away from the truth. I can’t freak out over Harper's bombshell—multiple cameras in my apartment. Processing this nightmare is a luxury I can't afford when every instinct is screaming at me to find the nearest exit, literal or metaphorical. Keeping my cool is the only option; even if inside, I'm a chaotic mess scrambling for a semblance of control.
Whatever is scrawled across my face might as well be in neon lights because Harper reads it like her favorite mystery novel.
“Holy shit!” She gasps, her eyes widening as if she's just stumbled upon the plot twist of the century.“You know who is doing this, don’t you? You’re covering up for them.”
The way she says it, it's not even a question—it's a revelation. An 'aha' moment that would make any detective proud, except this detective is my friend, and this isn't a case we're solving—it's my life unraveling.
Hyperventilating would be considered slower than what my heart is pumping right now.“I’m gonna go.” I glance at Julian because he’s my boss, but his eyes look hurt.
“You will sit the fuck down,” Harper growls as she grabs me by the shoulders.“I will take off my bra and use it to restrain you to that chair.” She gently pushes me back down into the seat. I fall into it like jello on a hot Dallas day.
Kent claps his hands and leans back in his chair,“Take it off, Siren,” he cheers. "I didn't realize you were into bondage."
“Enough!” Daniel silences Kent as if he were a small boy again.
I don’t know what to do. I feel so broken yet surrounded by people holding glue, wanting to put me back together again desperately. The problem is I can’t be assembled again because not every part of me is here; some parts are buried with my parents and brother, and others are being held captive by Andrew. You can try to patch me up and make me look whole again, but those gaping holes? They're just biding their time, waiting for the slightest pressure to tear them wide open and let my happiness bleed out again.
Chapter 3
Julian
A cry escapes Poppy's lips—lips I've sworn to protect and cherish. She folds into herself, her face buried in her knees, and the intensity of her sobs sends a ripple of pain through the room, enough to unsettle even Uncle Dan.
I'm on my feet in an instant, turning Poppy's chair to face me, wrapping her in an embrace as my hands draw soothing circles across her back. My gaze shifts to Harper, who's standing there, a picture of bewilderment, her eyes wide with confusion yet filled with heartache as she witnesses her best friend's breakdown.
Turning to Uncle Dan, I catch the silent question in his eyes, a clear, 'You know who's behind this, Julian. Just spill it.'
I've already filled my uncle in on Theo's antics. Sure, I knew someone had their sights set on Poppy, but I figured that person was just using Theo to watch out for her and not invade her life.
This has to be someone else's doing. It's too twisted, even for the person who is watching Poppy.
I shake my head, and I can see Uncle Dan's jaw tighten in response. We're dealing with a different beast here, someone so menacing that Poppy feels the need to keep Harper and me in the dark, scared enough to lie to us.
Chapter 4
Poppy
I feel their eyes on me, repelling my tears as if they're an umbrella in a storm. They're hungry for answers, craving them with an intensity that makes this ordeal feel less like my own private nightmare and more like a shared burden. Yet, deep down, I know it’s not theirs to bear.
Perhaps the best way to bury the past is to unearth it with the truth. It's a risky gambit, but desperation leaves me with scant alternatives. As my tears begin to subside, I attempt to steady my breathing. My warm breath rebounds off my knees, turning my face an even deeper shade of beet red.
I muster the strength to sit up straight, adopting the posture of someone who might have her life together; Julian’s hand doesn’t leave me, sliding from the small of my back to my knee as he watches me, still kneeling in front of me like that sculpture that is holding up the world. What is it called again…Atlas, that’s right. He’s stuck holding up the world as a punishment. My teary eyes meet Julian’s worried ones. I hate that his caring for me is like a punishment.
I lick my lips but keep my eyes down on my knees. I might be able to confess some of the truth, but I can’t withstand their eyes, especially Harper’s.
“I do know who did this. At least, I think so,” I begin, my voice a mere whisper against the tension in the room. “I know so,” I correct myself with more conviction, the name 'Andrew' surfacing in my mind like a dark omen—a name I won't voice.
My knees begin to shake, and Julian’s hand presses down on them to steady my nerves.“It’s ok, I’m not upset. Just let me help you.” He says in a gentle tone.
This is what’s going to ruin us.“I can’t,” I whisper. Hating Andrew even more for taking away more people I love.
Harper’s patience snaps, her voice a sharp demand in the confined space.“Tell me!” she insists, encroaching on my bubble of turmoil.“Poppy, tell me what’s going on?”
“I can’t,” I sob back, the words a blade to my own heart.
