Page 168

“We felt it was best for the family. Harold and Vanessa weren’t married yet when…” He clears his throat. “When she was attacked. A baby out of wedlock, conceived under those circumstances, would have been detrimental to our family’s reputation.”

I understand hiding it from a town that eats scandals like candy. But my stomach turns at the thought of my mother carrying that secret alone. Forced to smile through it and play queen for my father’s little circle of snakes while sorrow pricked at her for years.

“What happened to the man who hurt her?”

Grandpa’s mouth tightens. “Eliminated. By your father.”

That should feel like justice. Blood paid for blood. But it doesn’t. It only deepens the grief because it means my father knew everything. He loved her, built a life around her, and still couldn’t save her from drowning.

“What happened to the baby?” Zaiya asks.

Grandpa breathes out slowly. “He was sent to live with his paternal grandparents in Brightridge. None the wiser about the circumstances.”

I scoff a laugh.

“None the wiser. Except he’s in fucking Shadow Bluff.”

Grandpa’s eyes widen a fraction. “How? Where?”

I don’t want to say it. Saying it makes it real.

“Simon Francis Lyle is Frank fucking Bolton,” I spit out. “He’s been in our home. He was the reason my mother felt she couldn’t go on with that pain.”

Zaiya nods, stepping in before Grandpa can question whether I’ve lost my mind.

“His stepdaughter confirmed it.”

My fist clenches, ready to go through a wall. Zaiya gently wraps her hands around it to keep me steady.

Grandpa’s face shifts from surprise to calculation. The old, familiar arithmetic of consequence. How many people know? How fast will it spread? What must be cut off to save the body?

“I’ll deal with him,” I say, already turning away.

Grandpa’s voice stops me. “What will you do?”

I don’t hesitate. “Eliminate him.”

That feels good to say out loud. A real solution. One I can execute promptly.

I storm out of the office. Zaiya follows fast and catches my arm in the hallway, fingers wrapping around me with more strength than would be expected from her.

“Edwin, wait.”

“Don’t tell me you have an attachment to him.”

“No,” she says immediately. “But you can’t just go over there and kill him.”

“Yes, I can.” My voice is ugly, clawing itself through my throat.

She sighs. “I know morally it means nothing to you, but practically, he’s close with Patrick.”

“Good. That’ll throw Patrick off his game for the final Trial.”

“Or he’ll retaliate,” she counters, calm but urgent. “Patrick will announce it to everyone, make you look impulsive and weak. The people of this town love Frank, and Patrick knows it. He’ll use that against you.”

My fists clench so I don’t pull my own hair out.

“I can’t let him live.”