Chapter 2
CHAPTER TWO
VON
My family sits in the large, airy sunroom at the back of the mansion I grew up in, waiting for Caden to return from the sheriff’s department.
“I can’t believe this,” my little sister Daisy says, slowly shaking her head. “I can’t believe Noah would hurt Mom. He’s like part of the family.”
“Caden will figure this out,” my brother Alistair says, coming over to sit beside her on the enormous white couch.
I glance at my father and wonder what he’s thinking. I know that no matter what, we’ll follow his lead. That’s the way it’s always been. The only person who could ever nudge Dad down a different path was Mom.
She loved Noah like he was her own son. Dad knows that as much as all of us do.
I’ve never gotten along with Noah—he’s just such a wide-eyed, optimistic, do-gooder. I was raised by Russell Everton, cutthroat businessman and grudge-keeper extraordinaire. I know how the sausage gets made and what it takes to be successful in this world. Noah’s ideas of right and wrong are cute and all, but the real world is morally gray.
But kill my mother? The longer I think about it the more unlikely it seems. He adored my mom. It was annoying to be honest. Another older brother I felt I had to compete with. And he was always so nice .
Plus, Mom was likely killed by whoever was stalking her. I can’t imagine Noah writing her love letters. The thought makes my skin crawl.
My family estate is situated right on Magnolia Bay. The enormous floor-to-ceiling windows of the sunroom give stunning views of the water, the back lawn rolling in a lush green carpet down to the water’s edge, Mom’s garden sprawling east toward the woods that line our estate. There are five of us Everton siblings: Caden, me, my twin brothers Alistair and Finn, and Daisy, the youngest and the family darling. Daisy always thinks the best of everyone.
Not me. You don’t make junior partner at Phillips, Brace, and Horowitz by age twenty-nine without cutting a few throats. Metaphorically, of course. My mentor, Howard Horowitz, has taught me well. I’ve worked my ass off to get where I am. I want to make partner by age thirty-five and start my own firm by forty.
The grandfather clock on the wall ticks loudly as we wait for Caden’s return.
“What’s taking him so long?” Alistair wonders.
“Maybe they won’t let him talk to Noah,” Finn says. With his jet-black hair slicked back, and his ice-blue eyes, Finn looks nothing like Alistair, whose sandy hair is always flopping into his hazel eyes. Their personalities couldn’t be more different either. But there’s always been this energy between them—that “twin thing” as Alistair calls it.
“Please,” Alistair scoffs. “He’s an Everton.”
“They should never have arrested him so publicly,” Finn grumbles. “And on our property no less. ”
He glances at Dad, likely hoping for some sign of agreement, but our father doesn’t acknowledge him.
As if on cue, we hear footsteps and then Caden enters the room.
Daisy jumps to her feet and rushes over to hug him. Al and I both stand. I feel like an arrow strung on a bow, my body quivering with tension. Finn is looming by the window.
Dad doesn’t move, sitting in the armchair by the fireplace, still as a statue.
“He’s innocent,” Caden declares, and I feel the tension drain from the room in a palpable way. Somehow, Caden has always had this aura that all of us siblings have followed. A natural leader, Mom used to say. I’ve resented it while also finding comfort in it, which is an annoying place for a younger sister to be in.
“I knew it,” Daisy says.
“But they’re keeping him in jail until his arraignment on Monday,” Caden says.
At that, Dad’s eyes flicker to life.
I immediately step in. “Who is representing him?” I ask.
Caden grimaces. “Well,” he says. “I was hoping you would do it.”
I feel everyone’s gaze swivel to me. “Me?” I say.
I glance at Dad. He looks…intrigued. I have to admit, it’s a good idea. Keeps this whole thing in the family. We don’t have to call in outside help.
“Yes,” Daisy gushes.
“That’s a great idea,” Alistair agrees.
“It sets the right tone,” Finn says. He’s all about tones and optics now. He’s planning to run for Congress in the next election.
“It just doesn’t make sense,” Daisy says. “Noah isn’t a murderer.”
I privately agree, but the lawyer in me can’t help but argue.
“What did he say about the fingerprint?” I ask Caden .
“He can’t explain it,” Caden admits. “But as for the rest—knowing about the entrance in the garden, having firearms training—those could apply to lots of people.”
“I can’t picture Noah writing love letters to Mom,” Alistair says. Dad seems to freeze in his chair. He hasn’t talked at all about the stalker letters—only me and my siblings have discussed them among ourselves. I have no idea what Dad thinks about them. But I bet he’s pissed she didn’t tell him. I know I am. Ever since we found them, I can’t help feeling this slow burning anger at Mom for not saying anything to anyone about something so important. Dad would have moved heaven and earth to find this person and destroy them.
“And don’t you think it’s strange,” Caden says, “that there were no prints on the door handle, no prints in the shed at all, no prints on the letters…but then suddenly, boom, prints on a casing found five years later.”
Finn cocks his head. “Yeah,” he says. “That is strange.”
“So he forgot to wear gloves when he loaded the gun,” I say. I love my family deeply, but they do not think like lawyers.
Caden frowns at me. “He was training to be a cop ,” he says. “And he just happened to forget about fingerprints when he was loading the gun?”
Daisy looks hurt. “He’s our friend, Von.”
“You think bad guys can’t look like friends? You think murderers can’t wear nice smiles and fit in with their communities? Tell that to Ted Bundy’s neighbors.”
“Are you seriously telling me you think Noah did this?” Caden demands.
“No,” I shoot back. “But you all need to stop looking at this from the family perspective. We know Noah. The outside world?” I gesture out the windows. “When someone gets arrested, most people assume they’re guilty. I’m just preparing you for what the police and the prosecutors are going to say. ”
“But isn’t it supposed to be innocent until proven guilty?” Daisy asks.
I can’t stop my heart from softening at the plaintive look on my sister’s face. She’s really the best of all of us. She’s the most like Mom.
She looks like Mom too, the same blue eyes, the same dimple in her chin, the exact same smile. The only difference is Mom’s hair was a vibrant red, where Daisy’s is strawberry blonde. We both inherited Mom’s red strands. Mine are more subtle, buried in my auburn locks.
“Technically,” I say. “But sadly, in the real world, that’s often not how it works.”
“But you defend guilty people all the time,” Caden says.
“Thanks for that astute assessment,” I say dryly.
“I’m just saying—wouldn’t it be nice to represent an innocent person for once?”
I feel a sudden pinch in my chest. Mom said something similar, a long time ago, in private.
You’re going to make one hell of a lawyer, Von. Don’t you think you could use that silver tongue to make a difference in this world? Represent those who truly need it?
I did think that way once. But then she died. And Dad was the only parent I had left.
I had to get his attention somehow. And Dad cares about two things. Power and money. So I set out to accrue both.
They’re all staring at me, waiting for me to answer. It feels unfair. Like I take some sort of pleasure in letting asshole finance bros walk free.
I glance at Dad. His face is still unreadable. He’s not even looking at me anymore. He’s staring out the window across the bay.
“Von, please,” Caden says. “I think someone is trying to frame him.”
“Who?” I ask .
“I don’t know,” Caden says. “That’s what I want to find out. And the only way for us to have access to everything the police and the prosecution know is to have our own player in the game.”
I can’t take my father’s silence any longer.
“What do you think, Dad?” I ask.
He finally stirs. He’s changed since Caden came back—and even more since Caden agreed to take over the company. He’s staying at the house more. He’s engaging with his children. He’s not as hard or cold as he was before Caden returned.
After Mom died, Dad basically moved to the family apartment in the city. I stayed in New York too. I didn’t want to be out here—in this house, where the memories of her still linger, around my family, who all dealt with her death in their own, unhealthy ways: Caden fled, Al partied, I worked, Finn repressed it, and Daisy tried so hard to be happy it was sometimes painful to see.
Dad stands. “Von, you will go meet with Noah. Alistair, you will craft a statement to the press. Something neutral. We are letting the police handle the investigation, we ask for privacy at this difficult time, that sort of thing. Don’t announce Von’s involvement yet. We do not speak to anyone about this outside of the family. Do I make myself clear?”
He looks each of his children in the eye, and we all nod dutifully.
He turns. “Von, come with me.”
I follow my father out of the sunroom, then to a set of back stairs usually used by the staff. We reach the second floor and he strides into his private study.
“Close the door,” he says, and I obey without hesitation. Following Dad’s orders got drilled into all us kids from the day we were born.
“Dad—” I begin but Dad holds up a hand to silence me.
“I do not think Noah murdered your mother,” he says. “But that does not bring us any closer to finding out who did. What I do know is that this does not look good for the company. Especially not with Caden taking the reins.”
I try to keep my expression neutral even as my heart sinks to my knees. Of course. It’s always about Caden and the company. The only two things Dad has cared about since Mom died. Getting Caden back has been priority number one for five years. We all knew it, even if Dad never said it explicitly.
We all know every single one of us comes second behind Caden the fucking Great.
“We must maintain control of the narrative, Siobhan,” Dad continues. “This is going to be a test for Everton. If there’s a trial, it will be a media circus: the daily updates, the testimony…god knows what crazies might come out of the woodwork.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Are you worried about anyone in particular?”
Dad clenches his jaw. “I am worried about everything,” he says. “Your brother was right. We need someone on the inside, someone who can give the family a heads up about any information the police have, witnesses, things like that…”
I nod vigorously. “I can do this, Dad.” Why does he have to only focus on Caden? Why can’t he just say I’m the best person for the job, the one job my brother can’t do? “I’ll need to talk to Howard. See if he’ll let me take a leave of absence.”
I’ve got cases at the firm that will need to be passed off to other lawyers.
“ I will talk to Howard,” Dad says firmly. “It will not be a problem.”
I purse my lips. I’ve worked so hard to make a name for myself on my own. Of course, everyone at the office knows I’m an Everton, but I busted my ass, graduated top of my class at Columbia Law, put in more billable hours than anyone else at the firm, and still I’m seen as a fucking nepo baby.
And now Dad is going to prove that point by sweeping in and forcing Howard to give me special treatment .
“All right,” I say. “I’ll go to the sheriff’s office now and talk to Noah.”
There’s no time like the present. I’ve got to get the ball rolling. I can do this. I can show Dad I’m just as capable as Caden.
And honestly, it will be nice to put my skills to a more noble use—to help someone who really needs it.
I wonder if Howard will let me take Grayson Ling as my second chair. He’s the best junior associate at the firm and a top-notch researcher. Noah is going to have the best goddamn defense team possible.
And while I’m proving his innocence, maybe I can do what the cops have failed to do all these years: find out who really killed my mother.
“Alex will take you,” Dad says, pulling out his phone to text the family driver.
I head to the door and just as I place my hand on the knob, my father stops me in my tracks.
“Siobhan,” he says. I turn and there’s a gleam in his eye. He may have more gray around his temples and a few more lines around his mouth, but my father is still an impressive figure. “Don’t disappoint me.”
A chill runs up my spine.
I nod. “I won’t.”
“Good. Now go.”