***"People talking without speaking***
***People hearing without listening***
***People writing songs that voices never share***
***And no one dared***
***Disturb the sound of silence."*** *\- Disturbed*
***Holden Young***
It had been days since I last spoke to Alissa. The emptiness it left in me was unbearable, but the truth was, I didn’t know how to talk to her now. Not after I kept digging and digging, unable to stop sinking deeper into this mess.
She warned me and told me not to get involved or overthink things, but I didn’t know how to hold back.
She sent me a message that morning. Something simple, direct.
*“Are you okay?”*
I read those words about ten times before replying.
*“Just too busy, Ali.”*
I lied, and she knew it. I could feel it through the screen. But what could I do? How could I ignore the fact that my own family was involved in the hell she went through without trying to do something to make up for it?
I was trapped between the love I felt for Alissa and the hatred growing inside me for everything my parents had done. Or, at the very least, allowed.
“You’re restless.” Cyrus’s voice cut through my thoughts. He was sitting in the corner of the room, messing with something on his phone. “Something wrong?”
I looked at him, hesitating for a moment before answering.
“I need a trip.”
He raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “A trip? Now? Don’t you think there are more important things here?”
“Just for a day,” I shot back, crossing my arms. “Can you arrange a jet?”
Cyrus let out a low whistle, shaking his head. “So, you finally want to take advantage of the perks fame gives you, huh?”
“Something like that,” I replied, trying to keep my tone casual. He didn’t need to know the truth.
With a suspicious look, Cyrus just shrugged and picked up his phone. “I’ll see what I can do.”
Hours later, I was landing at my parents’ estate. The mighty Denver Young now lived in the south of France, overseeing one of the branches of the weapons company he had built from the ground up. He always prided himself on that. He always said he was “bringing security to the world.”
I knew it was a dirty game. Contracts with governments, partnerships with figures who preferred to stay in the shadows… My father was the kind of man who would do whatever it took to expand his empire.
And I had been a fool to live in that bubble for so long without imagining the kinds of things he could be involved in.
Was it too late for me to start questioning everything wrong? I wondered.
My mother, as always, seemed happy and delighted to see me. We posed for photos, her delicate hands holding my arm as we smiled for the cameras. A warm and cozy reception that only tightened the knot in my chest.
My father stood beside me, more austere, with that typical air of controlled pride he always displayed in public. The impeccable posture combined with the fake charm he only showed in front of the cameras. Then, as soon as they left, the atmosphere shifted.
We were sitting in the living room, a stunning view of the French countryside stretching beyond the glass windows. But inside me, the storm was just beginning.
I wanted to control myself and keep Alissa away from trouble, but something inside me wanted to scream and lay everything bare.
“So, what brings you here, Holden?” my father asked, his voice calm but with a hint of suspicion. He poured a drink for me and my mother, who remained silent, just watching.
I took a deep breath, trying to keep my composure. “I want to talk about one of your enterprises. The reformatory, to be specific.”
The silence that followed was deafening. My mother looked at me, surprised, while my father raised his eyebrows.
“What about the reformatory? Decided to get into business now?” The mocking laugh only fueled my impatience.
“I saw the documents, Dad,” I said, keeping my gaze fixed on him. “Bank transfers. Your company’s name. You were involved in it, but why? It’s a horrible place.”
He laughed, a short, hollow sound. “Holden, you don’t understand how the world works. It was a legitimate investment. The place needed resources, and I provided them.”
“Legitimate?” My voice rose. “Do you know what they did to those girls?”
He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. “It’s not my job to oversee operations. If there were problems, it’s not up to me to fix them.”
The anger inside me grew like a wave ready to crash.
“Not up to you? Then whose job is it? The girls who were abused?”
My mother tried to intervene. “Honey, please…” her submission disgusted me. “No, Mom,” I interrupted, turning to her. “Did you know? Did you know what he was doing?”
She averted her gaze, fidgeting with her hands as if trying to find the right words. “I… we can’t do anything, son. Your father has businesses in all areas, you know that,” she said, her voice barely a whisper. “But it’s not that simple.”
My father scoffed. “Stop this, Blake. You’re sugarcoating it. Holden is an adult; he shouldn’t question the methods I use to support this family. After all, he’s enjoyed all the money just fine. Thanks to these investments, we have income from several countries.”
I looked at them both, frustration overflowing.
“Is that how you got rid of Alissa?” I asked, my voice trembling. “Promising money to that place in exchange for silence?”
Her name hung in the air like a bomb about to explode. My father stared at me, his eyes narrowing as he processed what I had just said. “So, that’s it,” he finally spoke, a tone of disdain in his voice. “It’s about her. Now it all makes sense.” He laughed as if it were a tasteless joke.
I stood, unable to stay there another second. “You can act like it’s nothing, but you don’t know the harm you caused her. It’s cruel.”
He rolled his eyes, setting his glass on the table. His cold demeanor was sharper than ever. “Alissa was a problem. I solve problems. Thanks to me, you weren’t deceived by that delinquent. Look at where you are now.”
He raised his hands as if it were a badge of honor to crush anyone in the name of success. God, how had I not seen it before? It made so much sense now, and I felt deceived for never seeing it with my own eyes.
I couldn’t stay there, not with that sadistic look on my father’s face, as if he were proud of the atrocities he supported. I headed toward the door, but my mother followed, grabbing my arm. “Holden, please,” she said, her eyes filled with tears. “You don’t understand. If you expose this, it will ruin your career. It will ruin everything.”
I pulled my arm away, looking at her in disbelief. “Maybe it needs to be ruined.”
I left before she could say anything else, my mind spinning with everything that had just happened. I didn’t know what I would do next, but one thing was certain: this would ruin either them or me.