Chapter 56 Chapter 56
The suspension was a victory, but it felt like a hollow one as we stepped out of the office. The hallway was a gauntlet. The news of the "fallout" had traveled faster than we could walk.
She was standing by the trophy case, her bag clutched so tightly her knuckles were white. The three-day suspension was a stain on her perfect record, but the look in her eyes suggested she was already weaponizing her anger. She didn't look like a girl who had lost; she looked like a girl who was preparing for a siege.
"Don't think this is over, Cass," she hissed as we passed. "You’ve got him for now, but wait until the silence kicks in. Wait until he realizes that being 'real' with you means losing everything else."
He didn't even turn his head. He just kept his hand in mine, leading me toward the side exit where the air was cold and honest.
The Quiet After the Riot
We sat in his car in the back corner of the lot, the heater blowing a dry, artificial warmth against our faces. For the first time in weeks, there was no brother in the backseat, no mother waiting at home, and no digital screen screaming my secrets.
"He’s actually going to do it," he said, staring at the steering wheel. "He’s going to cut off the accounts. He’s going to make sure the house is a frozen wasteland."
"Are you scared?" I asked, watching the way the afternoon light caught the sharp line of his jaw.
"Terrified," he admitted, finally looking at me. "But for the first time, I don't feel like I'm playing a part. When I saw those words on the board... I don't want him... it felt like the floor had dropped out. I realized I’d rather be hated for who I am than loved for the mask I wear."
"I never hated you," I whispered. "I was just protecting the only thing I had left that was mine. My thoughts."
He reached into the back seat and pulled out my diary. It was battered, the spine cracked from where she had forced it open. He handed it to me like it was made of glass.
"I haven't read any more of it," he said. "I don't want to know your secrets from a book anymore. I want to hear them from you."
I took the book, the weight of it familiar and strange. I opened the glove box and tucked it inside. "It’s closed for now. I think I’m done writing for a while. I’d rather live it."
The Return to the House
Going home was the real test. The driveway was occupied by his father’s car and my mother’s SUV, parked like two warships in a narrow harbor.
Inside, the atmosphere was frigid. Her father—the man my mother was falling for—was standing in the kitchen, a glass of scotch in his hand despite the early hour. He looked at us as we walked in, his eyes lingering on our joined hands with a look of profound disappointment.
"The lawyers are drafting a roommate agreement," he said, his voice clipped and professional. "Since we are all living under one roof, there will be strict boundaries. No shared time after 8:00 PM. No 'incidents' at school. If either of you crosses the line, the academy remains an option."
My mother stepped out from the shadows, her eyes red. She looked at me, her gaze shifting between the boy I loved and the man she was trying to build a future with. She was caught in the crossfire of our drama, her own happiness tethered to the very people who wanted to tear us apart.
"Cass, please," she whispered. "Just... make it easy for once."
"I can't make it easy, Mom," I said, my heart aching for her even as I stood my ground. "Because the 'easy' way involves me pretending I don't see what they're doing."
I looked up the stairs. She was standing at the top of the landing, looking down at us. She hadn't changed out of her gold dress from the formal. She looked like a fallen queen in a haunted castle. She didn't say a word, but the way she gripped the railing told me the three-day suspension was going to be the longest seventy-two hours of my life.
That night, the house was silent, save for the settling of the floorboards. I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, waiting for the other shoe to drop. My phone buzzed on the nightstand.
I expected it to be him. I expected a "goodnight" or a "we’ll get through this."
It wasn't.
The Brother: She’s in his room, Cass. Right now. She took something from your room before the office meeting. Something she didn't show the board. You need to come to the hallway.
My blood turned to ice. I didn't think. I threw off the covers and crept to the door, my heart hammering against my ribs. I opened it just a crack.
The hallway was dark, but the light from beneath his door was a sharp, yellow sliver. I saw the brother leaning against the wall opposite his room, his arms crossed, his face unreadable. He gestured toward the door.
I crept closer, my breath shallow.
Inside, I could hear her voice—not the screaming, sharp version, but something lower, more desperate.
"You think she’s the only one who can see you, Jace?" she was saying. "I have the rest of the pages. The ones she ripped out before she started the new diary. The ones about the night at the old school. If she sees what you really did... if she sees the part you didn't take the fall for... she won't look at you like a hero anymore."
The silence that followed was long and suffocating.
"Give them to me," his voice replied, sounding hollow and dead.
"No," she whispered. "I think I'll keep them. Just in case you forget who actually has your back."
I stood in the hallway, the floor feeling like it was disappearing again. The "Perfect Twin" had one more secret, and she was holding the leash.