Chapter 200: Which Wife?

Chapter 200: Which Wife?

Reese

I knocked once, then again, softer the second time.

“Hey. It’s Reese. Are you awake?”

If there was an all-seeing eye in this manor, it wasn’t the cameras. It was Ramsey.

I had come to him after washing up because I needed the version of events that didn’t make it into the versions River and Alex gave.

Not because my other siblings were dishonest. They weren’t. They were loyal to a fault.

But because Ramsey noticed the things that moved in the margins. When Reginald had his heart attack, neither River nor Alex had known.

Ramsey had known. He always did.

That was the practical reason. The other reason was more awkward. The conversation about adult things that I had put off for too long. The one that still needed to happen whether either of us wanted it or not.

Quick footsteps approached from the other side before the door opened.

Ramsey looked pale. The kind of pale that came from too many nights without real sleep. His hair was strangely perfect, as if he had smoothed it down out of habit even while the rest of him frayed.

Dark circles sat under his eyes. The lights in his room were still on.

“I’m sorry, brother,” he said, not quite meeting my gaze. Something was already wrong. I could feel it in the way he stood, in the apology that arrived before I had even asked for anything.

“Can I come in?”

Surprise flickered across his face, then shifted into something brighter and almost disbelieving. A real smile. The kind that made him look younger than ever.

No one came to see Ramsey. Not regularly. Not the way family was supposed to. It was a collective failure we had all participated in without admitting to it.

He stepped aside immediately, ushering me in with a sudden burst of energy. “Please come in. Come in. You want to spend time with me?”

“Yes.” I stepped over the threshold and let the door close behind me. “I heard you were feeling a little under the weather.”

“That is correct.” He nodded quickly. “I am not feeling the best now either. But I will get better soon.”

I took in the room while he hovered.

Photographs covered the walls. From Reginald to my mom to Cassandra to Ryan to Roman to Me to Randall to Alex to Rosie to River to Riley.

Every face accounted for except his own. He had made a gallery of the family that rarely made space for him, and he had left himself out of it.

I don't know why that hurt as much as it did.

The rest of the room was almost aggressively clean. White walls. White bedding. White surfaces without a single speck of dust.

The only color came from the red roses in a glass vase, the blue pillows arranged with geometric precision on the pure white sheets, and the blue ties holding back the white curtains. Nothing was out of place. Nothing was allowed to fuck up the order.

Ramsey hurried to the bed, pulled a wet tissue from the pack on the nightstand, and wiped the already immaculate surface before gesturing for me to sit.

“Thank you.”

He disappeared into the bathroom long enough to wash his hands, then returned and sat beside me with the same careful distance he always maintained, as if closeness with us required permission.

“Are you having trouble sleeping?” he asked. “Is ma’am Lizzie awake?”

“I just got back. And yes. Lizzie’s awake.” I rubbed my palms against my thighs, already feeling the conversation I had planned start to slip sideways.

There was no clean way into any of this.

He brightened again and reached for a camera on the side table. Within seconds he was scrolling through images, angling the screen so I could see.

The manor from angles I had never bothered to notice. Light falling across the east wing at golden hour. The rose garden after rain. A corridor that somehow looked both grand and haunted.

“These are really good,” I said, and meant it. The composition was sharp. The eye behind the lens was patient in a way most professionals in the field never were.

“You could make a career out of this.”

His whole face lit up. “That is my dream.” Then the light dimmed almost as quickly. “But Sir strongly forbade it. He only permitted it as a hobby.”

Of course he had. The same way he had steered Alex toward the path of becoming a surgeon whether Alex wanted it or not.

Reginald dictated his children’s futures without asking what any of them actually wanted.

Ramsey recovered faster than I expected, clearing the tension. “Can I ask why you’re here?” He rushed to add, “Not like I don’t want you here. I’m just a little surprised because barely anybody comes to visit me. I love having you here.”

A short laugh escaped me at the nervous honesty of it. “I wanted to ask a few questions. And also have that conversation about adult—”

I didn’t even finish the sentence.

The change in him was instant. Color flooded his face. A sheen of sweat appeared at his hairline. He scooted away from me on the bed like it had burned him. His breathing went shallow and fast.

I reached toward him carefully. “Hey. What’s wrong?”

He only shifted farther, eyes fixed on the floor, shame written into every line of his posture. Whatever this was, it was bigger than ordinary young adult embarrassment.

“Is… is Roman mad at me?”

I frowned. “No. Of course not. Why would he be mad at you?”

His breathing sped up further. “Because… I saw those videos.”

The words didn't make sense to me.

I had come prepared for the expected version of this talk. The awkward reassurances about normal curiosity, about bodies, about the fact that looking at adult content was not a moral failure.

I had not come prepared for the particular fear currently sitting across from me. I tried to pivot to safer ground while I recalibrated. “I only wanted to ask if you’ve seen Cassandra around.”

He shook his head without looking up. “I haven’t seen madam in a long time. I heard she was on a vacation.”

“Do you know where she went?”

“No. I’m sorry. But I only know that madam and sir had a big fight before she left. Then after that, Sir had a heart attack.”

“A big fight,” I repeated quietly. “Do you know what led to it?”

“No. I only heard her yelling at Sir, telling him she was at her limit, when I went to give him a father’s day card.”

The image of Ramsey still trying to give Reginald a card—still offering that uncomplicated, undeserved affection—made me sick to my stomach. The man did not deserve it. He had never deserved the affection and respect of any of his children.

Moreover, what did Cassandra mean by that? At her limit? What limit?

Ramsey’s voice dropped even lower. “I’m sorry about the video. I swear I only saw it once. I didn’t mean to see it.” His fingers dug into his own thighs hard enough to leave marks.

Before I could tell him it wasn’t serious, the tears started. That was when I understood we were no longer talking about the same thing.

I kept my voice steady. “You’re crying. Why? Those sorts of videos are very normal, Ramsey. Roman did the same thing too when he was your age. He isn’t mad at you. No one is.”

I shifted closer, careful not to crowd him.

“Don’t cry. It’s not something to cry about. Boys your age watch these videos. It’s perfectly okay. I watched more than my share. So did Alex and Randall. It’s really not a problem. And I can promise you Roman wouldn’t be mad at you for that.”

He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand and looked up for the first time since the panic started.

“Even if it was his wife that I… saw like that?”

The air left my lungs.

For a second I couldn’t hear anything except the too-fast sound of his breathing.

Which wife?

The question formed and stalled at the same time.

I stared at my younger brother, at the red still staining his cheeks and the way his hands had started to shake again, and felt the night rearrange itself around the single sentence he had just put into the room.

“Ramsey,” I said carefully, “I need you to tell me exactly what you saw.”

\~~~~AUTHOR’S NOTE~~~~

LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, PREPARE YOURSELVES FOR LANDING…

Your Captain, Page.