Chapter 121 Who Does That?

Chapter 121 Who Does That?


It felt like one of those absurd rumors students invented in school whenever they got bored.

Except, Brian wasn't joking.

"How?" I swallowed the lump at the back of my throat.

Brian rubbed his forehead tiredly. "I didn't believe it either."

He sounded exhausted. "So I kept digging."

He looked down at the pavement for a second before lifting his eyes back to mine.

"I started connecting everything I knew." He held up a finger.

"The recording."

Another finger.

"The conversations I overheard."

Another.

"The information about Dylan's father having another family."

He slowly lowered his hand. "And then..."

He sighed. "It all led to the same conclusion."

I stared blankly.

"After piecing everything together," He furrowed his brows. “Every road pointed to the exact same truth."

He paused. "Miranda isn't just someone connected to Dylan."

He ran a hand through his hair. "She's related to him."

I felt sick.

"She's his father's daughter."

I remembered Kyle's trembling voice.

"Dad has another family outside..."

That was why Miranda had a strange obsession with hurting Dylan almost as much as she wanted to hurt me.

My breathing became uneven at the thought of Dylan’s father.

"That man..." I whispered.

My hands curled into fists at my sides.

"That horrible man."

Anger suddenly rushed through me so fiercely that I surprised myself.

"Oh my God..." I shook my head repeatedly.

I clenched my teeth. "Dylan’s father..."

That cruel man.

I looked away, unable to hide the bitterness in my voice. "Damn him."

Brian nodded slowly. "I've never agreed with someone more."

The breeze swept between us.

Then Brian sighed again. "There was something else I found."

I immediately looked back at him. "What is that?"

"I found information about Miranda's mother." He said.

A knot tightened in my stomach.

Brian folded his arms. "It explains why Miranda hid her identity so well."

I frowned.

"I thought she only hid it because she didn't want anyone finding out she was related to Dylan." He muttered.

"That was part of it."

Brian nodded. "But not all of it."

He hesitated, almost like he wasn't sure he wanted to continue.

When he finally spoke, his voice had lowered considerably. "Apparently, Miranda's mother died five years ago."

I blinked. "Oh..." I whispered softly. "That's sad."

Even after everything Miranda had done, death was still death.

Brian nodded. "But that's not all."

Something inside me tensed again. "What else?"

He inhaled deeply. “She died being a drug addict."

I genuinely thought I had misheard him.

"What?"

Brian looked at me sadly. "That's what I found."

I couldn't process it. "No way..." I whispered. "Miranda's mother?"

He nodded. "Yes."

I stared at him but my mind refused to settle.

Questions crashed into one another faster than I could sort them.

Did Dylan know?

Did Mrs. Carter know?

Did Kyle know?

Was Dylan's father supporting them?

Did Miranda grow up knowing about Dylan?

Did she always hate him?

Or…

Had that hatred grown over time?

There were too many questions.

But I pressed a trembling hand against my forehead. "This is..."

I laughed weakly, though there wasn't anything funny about it. "This is insane."

Brian let out a humorless chuckle. "It really is."

I looked back at him and out of every question racing through my head, only one managed to make it out. "Does Dylan know?"

Brian froze.

His hesitation answered me before his mouth ever did.

He looked away and then back at me.

"Yeah."

My heart sank.

"He's aware now." He added.

"How is he?"

Brian didn't answer immediately. Instead, he rubbed both hands over his face.

The gesture alone frightened me.

"He's a mess."

My stomach twisted into knots.

Brian sighed. "No..." He corrected himself quietly. "He's worse than a mess."

I felt my pulse beginning to race. "What do you mean?"

Brian shook his head. "I've honestly never seen him like this."

His voice carried frustration.

"He barely talks."

"He barely sleeps."

"He doesn't answer most of our calls."

"And..." Brian hesitated.

I dreaded whatever came next.

"He started drinking."

I blinked. "Drinking?"

Brian nodded. "He gets drunk."

I stared at him in disbelief.

"He locks himself away." Brian continued quietly.

"He doesn't want anyone around him."

"He keeps pushing everyone away."

"He barely listens whenever we talk to him."

I felt like someone had punched me squarely in the chest.

No, not Dylan.

Not the Dylan who always tried to stay composed no matter how angry he became.

Brian looked genuinely helpless. "And..."

He sighed again. "He hasn't gone to soccer practice in two days."

"Really?"

Brian nodded.

"Coach is furious."

"The team's worried."

"The captain keeps asking about him."

He looked down briefly.

"Nobody knows what to do."

I could barely breathe.

"The game is tomorrow..."

"I know," I mumbled.

Brian ran a hand through his hair again.

"If Dylan doesn't play..."

He didn't have to finish his sentence because I already understood.

"Brookwood's terrified."

"They honestly think they'll lose without him."

I wrapped my arms around myself instinctively.

Dylan was already falling apart even without me submitting to Miranda's proposal.

A wave of guilt washed over me so suddenly that I nearly stumbled backward.

"Oh God..." I whispered.

My vision blurred slightly as panic and frustration tangled together inside me.

This wasn't what I had wanted.

I had broken up with him believing it would protect him. Instead, everything seemed to be falling apart anyway.

I stood there in stunned silence, my heart pounding painfully against my ribs, unable to make sense of how everything had unraveled so quickly.

The weight inside my chest became almost unbearable because I couldn't stop picturing Dylan locked in his room alone drinking.

Ignoring everyone and missing practice.

It didn't sound like him.

I bet he's extremely shocked about learning that his rival—the leader of the Blackhawks and his enemy is his stepsister.

I hugged myself tightly. "I don't know what to do anymore." My voice cracked. "I genuinely don't."

Brian stepped a little closer. "Then figure it out."

I looked up at him. "How?"

"You have to help him, Reet." His tone was firm. "He needs you."

A bitter laugh escaped me. "Needs me?"

I repeated weakly.

"He probably hates me."

Brian frowned. "He doesn't."

"You don't know that."

"I do."

"You don't."

I shook my head repeatedly. "I broke up with him."

I snifled. "I practically told him I didn't want him anymore."

"And now..." I swallowed painfully. "Now I'm supposed to show up and pretend everything's okay?"

Brian sighed. "No, Reet. I'm saying show up because nothing is okay."

Tears gathered in my eyes again. "I can't."

"You can."

"I can't."

"Reet."

"I can't!"

The words burst out louder than I intended.

I covered my mouth immediately as a shaky sob escaped me.

Brian stayed quiet while I struggled to breathe.

After a long moment, I finally whispered,

"You don't understand."

He folded his arms. "Then make me understand."

I wiped at my cheeks.

"I..." The words stuck.

My heart pounded violently against my chest. "I didn't leave Dylan just because of Vanessa."

Brian stayed silent.

I looked away from him. “I did it because I accepted Miranda's proposal.”

“What do you mean?” He frowned.

I hesitated. “In exchange for my father's release, coupled with the thought of Dylan's engagement and everything, I agreed to stay away from Dylan.”

“What?”

I nodded. "She also came to see me saying she had changed her mind."

Brian immediately stiffened. "What did she want?"

I looked at Brian helplessly. "She gave me a fresh condition."

His expression hardened. "What condition?"

I felt sick just remembering it. "She said if I sabotage tomorrow's soccer game, she'll release my father."

Brian's eyes widened. "What?"

I nodded slowly. "She doesn't care how I do it."

"She just doesn't want Dylan to play well."

"I told her no, I refused."

I exhaled shakily. "But now..." I looked away. "I'm trapped. If I don't do anything...my father stays wherever Miranda is keeping him."

"If I do something, I destroy Dylan."

I bit my lip. "I lose either way."

My voice completely broke. "I don't know what I'm supposed to choose anymore and I can't just pretend like nothing is happening."

Brian cursed quietly under his breath as he dragged a hand across his face.

Finally, Brian inhaled deeply. "I think I know why."

I looked at him. "Why what?"

"Why Miranda is doing all this." He looked down the street thoughtfully. "Since Miranda really is Dylan's half-sister, then this isn't just about revenge."

I frowned. "What do you mean?"

Brian slowly met my eyes again. "Think about it."

I furrowed my brows at him. "If she's another Carter, she probably wants approval, attention, and recognition from Mr Carter."

I blinked at him.

"Whatever Miranda is after, she's trying to score points in her father’s books," Brian said.

The sentence settled heavily inside me.

"So by destroying Dylan..." I whispered.

Brian nodded. "The better she looks and the worse Dylan looks."

"And knowing that man..." He scoffed bitterly. "...he'd absolutely compare them."

I closed my eyes.

How could one father create this much destruction?

Brian rubbed the back of his neck. "But in all of this, I'll keep looking for your dad."

I looked back at him in surprise. "You will?"

"I mean it."

"I'll find another lead and I'll keep digging. If Miranda thinks she's the smartest person in the room..."

A small determined smile crossed his face.

"...she's underestimated me."

I gave him a weak smile.

"I'll try finding where she's hiding your father and if she's planning something stupid, I'll stop her." He pointed gently toward me. "But until then…” He trailed off.

“ You have to focus on Dylan."

I shook my head immediately. "No, Brian."

Brian groaned. "Reet..."

"No, I can't. He doesn't want to see me."

Brian stared at me. "Who told you that?"

"I did." I laughed sadly. "We broke up, remember?"

I began to ramble.

"We barely speak."

"The last conversation we had turned into an argument."

"I hurt him."

“We hurt each other.”

Brian rolled his eyes dramatically. "Oh, for crying out loud."

I blinked. "What?"

"Forget the breakup."

I stared at him. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me."

He waved his hand dismissively. "Forget it."

I looked at him like he'd completely lost his mind. "Brian."

"What?"

"We broke up," I said again like it was more than enough reason to stay away.

"So?"

I blinked repeatedly. "'So?'"

He nodded. "If anything, he wants to see you."

I let out a snort. "He doesn't."

"He does."

"He doesn't."

"He absolutely does."

I shook my head. "You don't know Dylan's head."

Brian snorted. "I know him better than anyone."

"He acts angry."

"He says stupid things."

"He isolates himself."

"But whenever he's hurting, I believe you're the person he'd want to see."

I lowered my gaze. "But I can't."

Brian sighed deeply. "Sometimes I hate how much you argue.”

I ran my hand through my hair.

“The game is tomorrow." He reminded. "If his head stays like this, he'll play terribly or he might not even play at all."

I bit my lower lip.

My eyes wandered absentmindedly across the street and then a waste collection truck slowly rolled toward the neighborhood.

Two sanitation workers climbed down.

One of them grabbed the large public waste bin standing near the sidewalk.

My heartbeat suddenly stopped.

My eyes widened.

The waste bin.

I remembered Miranda had thrown something in there.

So without thinking, I suddenly ran.

"Excuse me!"

The sanitation worker looked up in surprise. "Huh?"

I hurried toward him. "Please!"

He frowned. "And you are?"

"I..." I pointed desperately toward the bin.

"I accidentally threw something important away."

He looked uncertain.

"I just need one minute, please," I said quickly.

He studied my face and then he finally nodded. "Okay, but only one minute."

Relief flooded through me. "Thank you!"

He stepped aside.

I immediately hurried toward the bin.

I heard Brian's confused voice behind me.

"Reet?"

He jogged after me. "What are you doing?"

I had already pushed open the lid. "I think..." I muttered. "I'm sure Miranda threw something away here."

Brian blinked. "What?"

"The day she visited me, I saw her throw a small pill container into this bin."

He stared. "Are you serious right now?"

I rolled my eyes. "I think so."

His eyebrows shot upward. "Wait."

His expression slowly changed. "Are you by any means implying..." He lowered his voice. "That Miranda's on drugs too? Like her late mother?"

I stopped for a second.

"I don't know," I admitted honestly. "But we'll find out if we find whatever she threw away."

Brian stared into the overflowing trash, then at me and back at the trash.

His face twisted dramatically. "Oh..."

"My..."

"God." He looked horrified. "That's disgusting."

I couldn't help rolling my eyes. "You don't have to help. I'll do it myself."

I reached farther into the trash.

Brian watched me and suddenly smirked.

"You know..."

I looked at him.

"Now I finally understand." He snickered.

"What?"

He folded his arms. "Why everyone used to call you Dumpster Girl."

I shot him the deadliest glare I could manage. "Brian."

He immediately raised both hands.

"Okay!"

"I'm sorry!”

“I'm joking!"

I continued glaring.

He sighed dramatically. "You know you're really scary."

I ignored him and continued searching.

A few seconds later he groaned. "I can't actually let you do this alone."

He reluctantly stepped beside me. "I officially hate my life."

I snorted quietly. "You volunteered."

"I know." He sighed. "And I regret every decision that's led me here."

For the next few minutes, the man allowed us to keep searching even though Brian complained nonstop.

"Ew."

"What even is that?"

"Please tell me that's chocolate."

"It better not be."

"Oh, that's definitely not chocolate."

I couldn't help smiling despite everything.

"You complain too much."

"I'm rich." He answered matter-of-factly. "I wasn't built for garbage."

I laughed softly. "Keep digging."

He sighed loudly. "I deserve a medal."

Another minute passed and suddenly I saw something. "Wait."

My fingers brushed against something hard. "I found something."

Brian immediately leaned closer. "What?"

I carefully pulled out a tiny white plastic container.

It looked like a pill bottle.

"Don't touch it." Brian quickly took it from me.

He examined it carefully, turning it over several times. "Hm."

"What?"

He narrowed his eyes. "It's..." He paused.

"Just a pain relief pill container."

I frowned. "That's all?"

"Looks like it."

I sighed defeatedly. "So I was wrong."

"Maybe not." Brian suddenly turned the bottle again. "Hold on."

He rubbed some dirt away with his thumb.

"There are initials here."

I leaned closer. "What initials?"

He read them slowly.

"M..."

"C."

I froze. "What does MC mean?"

Brian stared at the tiny letters for several long seconds and then realization slowly crossed his face.

He looked up at me. "Miranda Carter."

I froze. "What?"

He nodded slowly. "MC."

"Miranda Carter."

The words echoed inside my head.

A sharp gasp escaped my lips.

"So..." I whispered. "That's why..."

I looked at the little container.

"That's why she kept saying her family had to remain a secret."

Brian nodded grimly. "Exactly."

"Because revealing her surname…” I trailed off. “Would reveal exactly who she really was.”

But who on earth scribbles their initials on a relief pill container?