Chapter 60

**Matthew’s POV**

The break at the overlook had been refreshing—too refreshing for Heizel, apparently. Her enthusiasm for speed was both endearing and terrifying. I wasn’t about to risk another round of her death-defying driving, so while she was admiring the view, I casually slipped the keys from her pocket.

“What are you doing?” she asked, narrowing her eyes at me as we walked back to the car.

“Taking responsibility for my life,” I replied, dangling the keys in front of her. “I’m driving this time. No arguments.”

She crossed her arms, clearly unimpressed. “You’re no fun, Matthew. I was amazing back there.”

“You were something, that’s for sure,” I said, grinning as I opened the driver’s door. “Now, get in, or I’m leaving you here.”

With a dramatic sigh, she slid into the passenger seat, muttering something about me being overprotective. But as we started heading back toward the mansion, her laughter returned, filling the car like music.

When we arrived, the mansion felt oddly empty. Normally, there were staff bustling about—housekeepers, security, and the occasional visitor. Tonight, though, it was eerily quiet. The lights were low, and the massive space seemed to echo with stillness.

“Where is everyone?” Heizel asked, her voice breaking the silence as we stepped inside.

“Out,” I replied. “In the city or taking the night off. It’s rare, but even this place gets quiet sometimes.”

Her eyes swept over the grand entryway, taking in the marble floors and high ceilings. “It’s almost… too quiet. Are you sure no one’s hiding in the shadows, ready to pounce?”

I chuckled, shaking my head. “Trust me, if anyone were here, I’d know.”

Dinner was already set in the dining room—a beautifully arranged spread of roasted chicken, sautéed vegetables, and a bottle of red wine breathing beside two glasses. Heizel raised an eyebrow as we sat down.

“Did you make this?” she teased, a playful smirk tugging at her lips.

I laughed. “Not a chance. My housekeeper, Clara, made it before she left. She always ensures there’s something ready, even if I don’t ask.”

“Well,” she said, taking a sip of wine, “remind me to thank Clara. This looks amazing.”

We ate in comfortable silence for a while, the clink of silverware against plates the only sound in the room. The food was excellent, but my attention kept drifting to Heizel—the way she savored each bite, the way her lips curled around the rim of her wine glass.

“So,” she said, breaking the silence as she swirled her wine, “tell me about your family. And how you know Taylor.”

I hesitated for a moment, caught off guard by the question. But when I met her gaze, I saw nothing but genuine curiosity.

“You really want to know?” I asked.

“Of course,” she replied. “And don’t spare any details. I’ve got plenty of time.”

I leaned back in my chair, considering where to start. “Taylor and I go way back. I first met him when he was five years old. I was six at the time. My mom worked at the hospital and was always involved with kids in need. Our family fostered a lot of them—kids who came from tough situations. Some stayed for a few days, others for months.”

Heizel leaned forward, her chin resting on her hand. “That must have been… intense.”

“It was,” I admitted. “At first, it was fun having other kids around. But after a while, it got tiring. Each one came with their own issues—trust problems, abuse, abandonment. Every time I thought I’d made a friend, they’d leave. It started to feel pointless, like a waste of time.”

I paused, taking a sip of wine before continuing. “Then my mom brought Taylor home. From the second he walked through the door, it was different. We clicked immediately—like the Three Musketeers, except there were only two of us. We did everything together—joked around, caused trouble, you name it.”

Heizel smiled, her eyes warm. “Sounds like you two were inseparable.”

“We were,” I said. “And it didn’t stop there. The same week Taylor arrived, my mom found out she couldn’t have any more kids. She and my dad saw how well we got along, how much Taylor had already become a part of the family. So, they adopted him.”

“That’s incredible,” Heizel said softly.

“Yeah,” I replied, smiling at the memory. “We grew up like brothers. Went to school together. I was always good at studies—I never had to put in much effort—but Taylor needed help sometimes. In return, he made sure I had friends. He was the social butterfly, always talking to everyone, while I was the quiet one, observing from a distance before deciding whether or not to say hi. Taylor didn’t wait. He just walked up to people and said, ‘Hi, I’m Taylor.’”

Heizel laughed. “I can totally picture that.”

“After high school, we both decided to join the army,” I continued. “No matter what, we were a team. We excelled together—got our badges quickly. Three years in, I was a captain, and Taylor was my right hand. But the army…” I trailed off, my voice hardening. “It wasn’t what we thought it would be. Too much politics. You couldn’t take down a terrorist if it meant disrupting someone’s balance of power. It was all paperwork and red tape.”

“So you left?” Heizel asked.

I nodded. “We both did. Went to Princeton—me for finance and management, Taylor for civil and environmental engineering. We graduated with top grades, and that’s when I came up with the idea for EES.”

Her brow furrowed slightly. “EES?”

“Echelon Security Solutions,” I explained. “My godfather worked with the CIA, and he liked our plan enough to invest. But I wanted more. So, I started working behind the scenes, building connections, finding the right people to talk to. Taylor was with me every step of the way. We built EES from the ground up—got all the permissions, approvals, everything. And Taylor? He didn’t just become my brother. He became my best friend.”

For a moment, Heizel didn’t say anything, her expression thoughtful. Then she smiled, raising her glass. “To Taylor,” she said.

“To Taylor,” I agreed, clinking my glass against hers.

The rest of the evening passed in a blur of easy conversation and laughter, the mansion’s emptiness forgotten as we lingered at the table, sharing stories and sipping wine. And for the first time in a long time, I felt something I hadn’t even realized I was missing: peace.