Page 113 of The Bargain

Earlier, I wondered if Sophie would seek vengeance or justice.

It didn’t occur to me she could do both.

The head lawyer opens his mouth; she shuts him up with a look.

“Don’t bother. Unlike you, I never proceed unless I have a bulletproof case. That means concrete evidence. Witness statements. Metadata from the recovered files.”

So much for Birnam’s destroyed phone and all my work deleting files.

“My clients have—” Mr Hastings’ lawyer tries to interject again.

“Your clients have used their influence and wealth to influence and divert the investigation, to protect a predator, and to publicly destroy an innocent young man. Are the Hastings prepared for a trial by jury? Because I can promise you I am.”

This time, it’s Mr Pearson who speaks. He’s been making calculations, rerouting. He recovers fast—he always does. He’s been primed for it. He leans forward, clasping his hands together in that politician’s imitation of humility.

“Mrs Sutton-Knight,” he says, “I must express my gratitude for your support in this matter. We all want the same thing here—a fair resolution. As you know, we’ve always cared deeply about Elias’s welfare.”

Mrs Pearson nods fervently, voice trembling with manufactured empathy.

“We took him in when no one else would. We gave him opportunities, stability, a home. It breaks our hearts to see him in this situation. We only ever wanted what was best for him.”

They’re not anywhere near as clever as they think, because we can all see it: the shift, the turn, the rewriting of history in real time. The Pearsons can smell power in the room and like the opportunistic scavengers they are, they’re already trying to crawl back to it.

Mr Pearson turns to me, that soft, paternal smile plastered on his face.

“Elias,” he says gently, “you know we’ve always considered you one of ours. Let’s not forget everything we’ve done for one another. Mrs Sutton-Knight and I can work together to sort this mess out—perhaps even help you transition back home, once this is all over⁠—”

Home. His words make my skin crawl. I realise, with a sick rush, that Sophie’s interference isn’t going to save me. Even if she gets me out of prison, the Pearsons will have me back under their roof—under their control.

And then what? No Spearcrest, no Harvard. Just the Pearsons, and my entire future in their hands.

I want to say something, but my throat is closed up tight with rising panic.

But Sophie tilts her head slightly, watching them with disdainful curiosity, like she’s examining a pair of insects too stupid to realise they’re pinned to a board.

“Mr and Mrs Pearson.” She steps closer to the table. The Pearsons flinch back instinctively. “I was just getting to you.”

I hold my breath, not daring to breathe. But to my surprise, Sophie turns and looks at me.

“I’m guessing you’ll be pursuing legal emancipation as soon as possible, am I correct?”

I nod, and Sophie echoes the gesture.

“Good. It’s done. Now, you have two options to choose from, and I’ll be by your side whichever you choose.”

I blink at her. I’m not ashamed to say, in that moment, that she scares me a little bit.

“What options?”

My heartbeat stutters, quickening.

“You can choose to forgive and forget. Emancipate—I’ll handle all the proceedings—move on and never see the Pearsons again. I’ll ensure they stay away from you, but not that they’ll face any consequences. Or—” There’s a glint in her eyes that’s pure incandescent darkness. “We could wage war.”

At her words, Mrs Pearson’s eyes fly to mine. She’s incapable of quite hiding her fear; her eyes widen ever so slightly. She doesn’t say anything, but there is a silent plea in her gaze.

I look away.

If life was a movie, and I was the poor hard-done victim-hero who’s been brutalised by an indifferent system, I know what I’d have to choose. I’d do the right thing—the noble thing. Turn the other cheek. Elevate myself above my foes through noble forgiveness.