37. Juliette
JULIETTE
B everly flits around, hanging up a load of laundry in my closet, rambling about something or other, but my mind is stuck on Roman.
I’ve been nauseous ever since that night in the parking garage, his words ringing in my ears.
He hasn’t reached out since, and it’s been a week.
Years of being told that Marcus Montgomery and anyone with a hint of his blood is the enemy rings in my head, and my mind battles with what I’ve always believed and what I know I feel .
The truth is staring me in the face.
I think about how cagey Paxton has been on the phone with me and how ever since I got back, I’ve barely seen him at all.
I think about how Lance has been lurking around bars in the HillPoint and implying I should stay out of town.
I think about how my father claims to love me but is letting my mother use me as a tool by linking me up with Preston, simply because it puts another powerful player in their pocket.
How he tried to murder innocent children to further his agenda; whatever the hell that even is.
My eyes track Beverly back and forth as she flits from spot to spot.
“Bevie,” I call out.
My voice is sharper than I intended, but it makes her pause, peeking around the corner from my large walk-in closet and peering at me.
“What do you know about the Montgomerys?” I ask.
Her face grows serious, and she places down the clothes she was in the middle of hanging up on a nearby chair and moves to where I’m sitting, her face anything but calm. “The same as anyone else, I’d assume, child.”
“I’m not a child,” I snap. “Despite all of you constantly treating me like I am one.”
Her face blanches, and she smooths down the nonexistent wrinkles in her shirt before staring at me for a few long moments.
“All I know is that after Marcus’s wife died, he…well, he was grieving for a time, I guess. Your father took advantage.”
My spine stiffens. “Took advantage how?”
“There were rumors he took over some of the dealings in the HillPoint, and that Marcus either doesn’t know about it or doesn’t care.”
Surprised, I lean back. “Bevie, is my father the villain here? Is he really as bad as those spray paintings imply?”
Everyone knows they’re about him. About us . There have been people protesting outside of Calloway Enterprises, demanding transparency. The number grows every time Roman paints something new.
Her cheeks pale. “Lord if I know, Juliette. Why does it matter? Would it make you love him any less?”
“It doesn’t matter, I guess.” I’m not sure if that’s true.
“Everyone’s a bad person to someone. You just have to figure out what you’re willing to accept.”
“What if the people I’ve been told to hate are the ones I want to love the most?”
Roman flashes in my mind again, and I choke on the thought of having to defend him to Tyler.
To anyone , really. If they cared about me, wouldn’t they just want me to be happy?
If Felicity were here right now, she’d tell me to get my shit together and come to live with her.
To say fuck you to the people who would put conditions on how I’m supposed to live.
And maybe she’d have a point.
Beverly watches me closely and then glances behind her at my closed bedroom door before sitting on the chaise next to me. “Did you know your balcony has cameras?”
“What?”
Panic infuses every nerve when she says it, my mind flipping through all the times over the years I’ve done things I shouldn’t have. When I’ve snuck out with Lance and Tyler—or more recently, when Roman climbed over the railing.
“Beverly…”
She presses her lips together. “Unfortunately, shortly after you came back from college, they stopped working. Nobody has had the time to fix them yet.” She hums, swiping her hands along one of my shirts that’s in her lap, smoothing over the fabric. “Peculiar, don’t you think?”
My tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth, and I speak even though it suddenly feels like my vocal cords are scratching on sandpaper. “Thank you,” I whisper.
She reaches out, pats my hand, and lowers her voice. “I’d watch out for your phone, too. Never know who might be able to tap in and see things.”
I swallow and nod.
“Do you hate Marcus like my father does?” I ask.
“Seems silly to hate a dead man.”
I rear back, all of my conversations over the past however many days coming to light. “Why do you say that? Is my dad trying to kill him?”
Beverly’s mouth drops open, and her eyes widen. “ What ? No, because Marcus Montgomery is dying.”
Shock hits me like a windstorm. “What do you mean, he’s dying?”
“Never mind. I don’t know much.”
“Bevie, please. I want to hear it. Don’t leave me in the dark the way everyone else does.”
She licks her lips and then nods. “Marcus has stage-four cancer. He’s… Well, he’s not going to be around very much longer.”
I try to slot together the new information, but it feels like square pieces being forced into round holes. “How do you know that?”
She shrugs, but she won’t meet my gaze. “The help usually knows everything. People like to talk as though we don’t have eyes to see or ears to hear.”
Guilt hits me in the stomach. I hate that she’s treated that way.
“Makes sense, don’t you think?” she adds. “His son coming back just in time to take over his legacy.”
“What if his son doesn’t want his legacy?” I ask. “He just has no choice? Does Roman know?”
Beverly’s chin lifts, a knowing glint coasting across her face. “These are questions better asked of someone else, I think.”
I snap my mouth shut, my insides swirling like a maelstrom.
“Do you love him?” she asks.
“What?”
“It’s a simple question.” She picks a piece of lint off her shoulder. “Do you love him? Would you renounce your family for him? Do whatever needs to be done in order to keep him?”
My throat feels thick, my fingers wringing together. “Yes.”
It’s the first time I’ve admitted it. And it feels…lighter than I thought it would.
“Love doesn’t survive in the dark, Juliette. It demands for you to step into the light.” She looks at me, her eyes sharp.
I swallow. “What does that mean?”
“It means if you ever want to see the morning, you have to forsake the night.”
I lift a brow, my chest heavy. “And the night in this scenario is my family?”
Beverly laughs. “Your family is midnight , Juliette.”
“Have you ever loved anyone like that?” I ask. I don’t know why the question pours out of me. Maybe because I’m desperate to have someone to relate to, or maybe I just want help making sense of how I feel inside.
She pauses, hesitating before she says, “I have.”
Obviously, whoever it was is long gone now. Otherwise, why would she have been here all these years?
“I hope you know, Juliette, that I am always on your side. No matter where you go. My loyalty will always be to you.”
I smile softly. “Even if I end up forsaking midnight ?”
She pats my leg and stands up. “Especially then.”