Chapter 67 Chapter 67
The weather turned on Friday. The gray skies that had been loitering for days finally broke, pouring a cold, relentless rain over the town. Inside the school, the atmosphere felt insulated, the hum of heaters and the squeak of wet sneakers on linoleum creating a world that felt smaller, more intimate.
I stood at my locker, shaking out my umbrella, when I saw him.
Jace was walking toward me, his hair damp from the run from the parking lot. He didn't have his hockey gear today; he just looked like a normal guy in a dark sweater, but the way the crowd seemed to part for him was still there. He didn't look like the boy who had survived a storm anymore. He looked like the boy who had learned to command it.
"Hey," he said, leaning his arm against the locker next to mine.
"Hey," I replied, my heart doing that slow, familiar thud.
"My dad is hosting a dinner tomorrow night," he said, his voice dropping so only I could hear. "Official Family business. Nolan and your mom are invited. Zayelle is already picking out her jewelry. It’s supposed to be a 'peace treaty' between the families."
I paused, my hand hovering over my history book. "A peace treaty. Does Marvin know?"
Jace’s expression flickered. "Marvin is the reason for it. My father wants to show the world—and Nolan—that the house is in order. He wants us all at one table, looking like the perfect unit."
"And what do you want?" I asked.
Jace looked at me, and for a second, the school hallway disappeared. "I want to be at a table where I don't have to watch what I say. But until we get there, I want you there with me. It’s the only way I’ll make it through the main course."
Later, in the cafeteria, Lena was already dissecting the news.
"A family dinner party?" she said, stabbing a piece of salad. "That’s not a dinner, Cass. That’s a chess match. Your mom and Nolan are the stakes, Jace is the king, and Zayelle is definitely the queen-in-waiting. You? You’re the wild card."
"I don't want to be a card at all," I sighed. "I just want to eat and leave."
"Impossible," Lena said. "Zayelle has been acting too 'sisterly' lately. I saw her in the hallway talking to Jacinta earlier. They weren't fighting. They were whispering. Whatever Marvin is planning for tomorrow, Zayelle is the one setting the table."
I looked across the room. Jacinta was sitting with Zayelle at a small table near the windows. They looked like two versions of the same porcelain doll—one dark, one light, both unbreakable. Zayelle caught my eye and gave me a small, elegant wave.
It wasn't a friendly wave. It was a signal.
The Home Front: The Calm Before
That evening at home, the house was a flurry of preparation. My mother was laying out a dress I’d never seen before—a deep emerald silk that made her look radiant. Nolan was in the hallway, polishing his shoes, whistling a tune that sounded lighter than the air itself.
"It's a big step, Cass," my mom said, coming into my room. She sat on the edge of my bed and took my hand. "Nolan’s career, our future... it all feels like it’s finally landing. I know the Thorne brothers are a lot to handle, but for one night, can we just be a family?"
"I’ll try, Mom," I said, seeing the hope in her eyes. I couldn't tell her about the whispers in the hallway or the look in Jace's eyes. I couldn't tell her that I felt like we were walking into a trap disguised as a banquet.
I opened my diary after she left.
Everyone is dressing up for a play I didn't audition for.
The costumes are beautiful, but the script feels dangerous.
Jace says calm isn't a trick. I hope he’s right.
But Zayelle is smiling, and Zayelle only smiles when she knows the ending.
The Thorne estate was a monument to old money and cold stone. Large iron gates swung open to let us in, and the driveway was lined with perfectly manicured hedges that felt like walls.
Inside, the foyer was lit by a chandelier that cast long, jagged shadows. Jace met us at the door. He was in a suit, looking every bit the heir he was born to be, but when he saw me, he reached out and squeezed my hand.
"You look beautiful," he whispered.
"I feel like I'm in a movie," I replied.
"Just remember," he said, leaning in closer. "The cameras aren't real. Only we are."
We walked into the dining room. The table was a sea of silver and crystal. Marvin was already seated, looking uncharacteristically stiff in a blazer. He didn't look at me. He was staring at his plate, his jaw tight.
And then there was Zayelle. She sat next to Marvin, wearing a dress that matched the Thorne family’s dark, regal aesthetic. She looked like she belonged there. She looked like she had lived in this house her entire life.
Jace’s father stood at the head of the table, raising a glass of wine.
"To new beginnings," he said, his voice echoing in the high-ceilinged room. "And to the strength of the family we choose."
We all drank. The wine was bitter.
As the first course was served, the conversation was polite, rehearsed. Nolan and Jace’s father talked about the merger. My mom laughed at a joke Jace’s father made. For a moment, it almost felt real.
Until Zayelle cleared her throat.
"It’s so wonderful to have everyone together," she said, her voice like silk. "Especially since we all have so few secrets left. Right, Cass?"
The table went silent.
"Zayelle," Nolan said, a warning in his tone.
"Oh, I'm not being mean, Dad," she said, tilting her head. "I just think honesty is the best policy. Like the honesty Marvin showed me earlier today. He found something very interesting in the old files Jace thought he’d cleared out."
Marvin finally looked up. He reached into his jacket and pulled out a small, folded photograph. He slid it across the table toward my mother.
"I think you should see who Nolan was really meeting with before he moved in with you," Marvin said, his voice a low, jagged rasp.
Jace’s hand gripped mine under the table so hard it hurt. I looked at the photo. It wasn't about the merger. It wasn't about the school.
It was a photo of Nolan and Jace’s father, taken years ago. They weren't just business associates. They were standing in front of the house I grew up in—the house my father died in.