Chapter 77
Her eyes are locked on mine. Big. Scared. But brave.
And I know we’re not just talking about the bath anymore.
“I promise,” I say without hesitation. No doubt.
Because I mean it.
So I turn around and sit on the floor,-my back to the tub. I don’t peek. I don’t try to ease the silence with words. I just stay there.
Because maybe she just needs something solid. Someone present. I might not be the right person for that, but I’ll be damned if I don’t at least try.
It’s quiet, except for the soft splash of water as she settles in.
—
I thought it might feel awkward me sitting here like this. But it doesn’t. It feels right. Like I’m the anchor in a storm she’s finally letting herself feel.
Minutes pass.
Then, softly, her voice drifts through the steam.
“I… something like this happened on that day too.”
A beat.
“It was my fault, too.”
That word stabs into me – too. It shouldn’t be there.
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Nothing is your fault. Who the hell hurt you?
I want to ask everything. I want to climb into that tub, wrap her up and make her forget the whole damn world. But I don’t push.
Instead, I ask gently, “What day?”
Silence again.
4
Then – barely louder than the sound of her playing with the
water
–
–
she says,
“The day I killed my brother.”
EMILIA
They say ignorance is bliss.
Whoever said that has never buried their brother.
I stand in the rain, dressed in all black, clutching an umbrella like it can hold me together. But nothing can. Not today.
My eyes blur as I stare at the headstone:
Luther Christian Vanderbilt
(1995-2018)
Just seeing it makes it hard to breathe.
–
In front of me, my mother always perfect, always cold – is on the ground, sobbing like a child. Her elegant coat is soaked, her hands shaking as she reaches for the gravestone like she can pull him back.
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My father stands beside her, trying to hold the umbrella over them both, but he’s crying too hard to see straight.
And then there’s my little sister, Diana, standing beside me, shaking with anger and grief. She looks so much like Luther when she smiles and like me when she cries.
But she’s not smiling now.
She’s sobbing – and every tear feels like a dagger.
“Was it worth it?” she snaps. Her voice is loud enough for people to turn. She doesn’t care. “Tell me, Emily. Was he worth it? That lowlife you love. That trash you brought into our world. Was he worth Luther’s life?!”
Her words slice me open. I want to speak, but nothing comes out.
“Diana…” I manage, barely above a whisper. “Please. This is Luther’s funeral. Show some respect.”
She laughs – a bitter, broken sound. “Respect? You want me to show the same respect you did when you got our brother killed?!” Her voice cracks. “It should’ve been you, Emily! Not him!”
I flinch. I deserve it. Every word. Every hateful glance.
Now I’ll never hear his laugh again. Never see the way his eyes crinkled when he teased me. He’s gone. Because of me.
And Diana isn’t done. Her whole body shakes as she cries harder. “Now I’ll never have a brother again. I’ll never- I’ll never
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Chapter 77
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She breaks.
And I do, too.
But I don’t get to cry. Not here. Not yet.
Because this is my fault.
Through my blurred vision, I can make out a figure, drenched in the rain, with nothing but a cap with Luther’s college scribbled on it.
My eyes meet his bloodshot ones and he gives me a sad, heartbroken smile.
I blink, and suddenly I’m not seventeen anymore.
I’m here sitting in the warm bath Liam made for me, the water up to my chest, bubbles clinging to my arms, my skin still stinging like it remembers what Stone tried to do. I keep scrubbing, like I can erase it. Like I can be clean again.
But I’m just… tired. So tired. The kind of tired that sinks into your bones and won’t leave.
He’s still in the room, sitting with his back to the tub like he promised. Silent.
I swirl a finger through the bubbles and try to sound light, even though my voice is barely steady. “Why are you so quiet? Scared the girl you’re stuck with might be a murderer? Not legally, but-”
“Emilia.” His voice cuts in. Firm, soft, and so full of something I can’t name. It stops me cold.
He says my name like it means something.
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Like I mean something.
And just like that, I’m seventeen again. And nineteen. And
twenty. Every version of me that ever broke is reaching for the version of him that never once let go.
Chapter 78
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