Chapter 25
T hirty hours. That’s all it took for my carefully constructed walls to crumble under Silas’s relentless persistence. I’ve been lying to myself, pretending I had my feelings under control. Every lingering glance, every subtle touch, every quiet word chipped away at my defenses, and I let it happen. Now, I’m stuck ten feet from the one person I can’t trust myself to be near and have never wanted more in my life.
The texts started not long after I locked myself in the guest room. His knock on my door was soft and tentative, but when I didn’t answer, he tried the handle. The click of the lock stopping him felt like a line drawn in the sand, one I hoped would hold. But his shadow lingered under the door for what felt like an eternity. Then the messages came, each one a reminder of how far I’ve fallen.
Silas : Why did you leave? I told you to stay. I meant it.
Silas : I’m sorry it took longer than I expected. Davey needed to go over the footage from the day you were attacked.
Silas : Don’t tell me you regret what happened, Scarlett. Because I don’t.
Silas : I know you’re reading these messages. Don’t shut me out. Talk to me.
Silas : I’ll give you space for now, but we’re going to talk about this. Soon.
He finally left, but not before making it clear that he isn’t letting this go. Relief and disappointment tangled in my chest as I listened to his footsteps retreat down the hallway. I spent the rest of the afternoon wrapped in blankets, trying to untangle the mess I created. By dinner, a knock sounds on the door.
An unfamiliar, female voice filters through the cracks. “Ms. Page? Mr. Wells asked for me to bring you dinner. I’m going to leave it outside the door. Place the tray out here when you’re done, and it’ll be collected.”
I wait several minutes before cracking the door to retrieve the tray. Chicken parmesan over penne pasta, a side salad, and a bottle of diet cola. My death-row meal. I don’t know whether to laugh or cry. Damn him. Damn Silas for giving me space and knowing exactly how to play this game better than I ever could.
As much as I want to hurl the tray against the wall, my body has other plans, stomach growling at the sight alone. The scent of marinara and melted cheese overpowers my defiance, and I sink to the floor at the foot of the bed, devouring every bite. Kendall deserves a damn raise.
The quiet while I eat it all gives me time to think, but none of it brings peace. I need to regain control. I can’t keep pretending this is real, can’t let myself believe I belong here. This life isn’t mine. It never was. I’m not Scarlett Page. I’m not a successful business owner. These are not my friends. This is not my home.
None of this is real.
The pain sharpens me, beginning to carve away the illusions I’ve let take root. I can’t keep delaying this. It’s time to finish what I started.
Grabbing the debit card hidden in the bathroom, I sit on the bed and place several online orders. A laptop, bags, clothing, and supplies; everything I’ll need to run when it comes to that. My escape plan isn’t perfect, but it’s a start. I need to be ready to leave at a moment’s notice, especially once Natalie returns from California. I’ll ask to stay with her temporarily. Davey will protest, but I can’t stay here any longer. Not with Silas.
By the time I finish, night has fully settled over the house. The tray from dinner has been placed outside the door, but I don’t dare check if it’s been taken. Instead, I head to the bathroom, stuffing a towel under the door crack and locking it. I turn the shower on full blast, letting the sound of rushing water drown out the chaos in my head.
With trembling fingers, I dial one of the few numbers I have memorized. The line rings, each tone like a hammer striking my resolve.
“Luis,” the voice on the other end answers sharply, the familiar tone bringing an unexpected comfort. For the first time in hours, I smile, picturing Luis surrounded by his usual chaos: half-drank cups of coffee and protein bar wrappers scattered around his desk, and his ever-present keyboard.
“Hey, Lu, it’s me,” I say, settling on the closed toilet lid.
There’s a brief pause before he speaks again. “Marilyn? Why are you calling me from a new number?”
I roll my eyes at the nickname. On another job, Luis found endless amusement in Peter’s attempts to have me coerce men through sex. First, because Peter thought he could talk me into it and second, because I’d never be good at it, given my shining personality. Since then, he’s taken to calling me Marilyn Monroe at every opportunity.
“That’s actually why I’m calling,” I sigh, my shoulders sagging under the weight of everything I haven’t said yet.
“What happened? Did you get caught?” His keyboard clatters louder, his concern clear.
“Not quite,” I admit, picking at a loose thread on my pant leg. “Do you have time to talk?”
“For you? Of course. What’s going on?” Luis’s reassurance is so firm, it plants a small seed of hope in my chest.
“You might want to write this down,” I warn.
“I’m ready.”
And just like that, it all comes spilling out. I lay everything bare: the past three months condensed into a relentless torrent of words. I tell him about Peter’s mounting demands, Harrison’s faux date and subsequent assault, the destruction of my apartment, and the missing laptop. I don’t exclude a single detail: my interactions with the Wells family, the clues I’ve uncovered about the local servers, and my fear that I’ve finally pushed Peter to the edge with my defiance. My throat burns by the time I’m done, and I stumble to the sink for a drink of water, the phone still pressed to my ear as I place my mouth under the faucet.
“And you haven’t talked to Peter?” Luis finally asks, his voice deathly quiet.
I straighten, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. “I… I’ve been too scared to call him.”
“Fair.”
“Part of the reason I’m calling is to see if he’s reached out to you about me.” We both know what I’m really asking: Has Peter put a target on my back?
The silence stretches, heavy with meaning, before Luis snorts, incredulous. “Do you think I’d take that job at all, let alone not tell you if he asked?”
A shaky laugh escapes me, relief breaking through the tension like a sliver of light. “I hoped that was your answer, but I can’t be too careful right now.”
“He hasn’t called me in weeks. Last I heard, he was busy with Clarissa in New York.” Luis pauses. “But nothing you’ve said sounds good.”
I swallow the lump forming in my throat. “Do you think I should confess everything to Silas and Natalie?” I bite down on my nail, the polished edge snapping off under the pressure.
Luis exhales deeply. “Honestly? I’m not sure. They have just as many resources as Peter, so it’s a gamble. I don’t know them well enough to judge how they’d react.”
That’s always been the problem. I know Natalie would want to forgive me, maybe even let it go and never speak to me again. But Silas… Silas is different. He’s fiercely protective, willing to burn the world to keep his family safe. I’ve observed that darkness in him, the same ruthlessness Peter wields like a weapon. I wouldn’t be an exception to that destruction.
I press my fingers into my closed eyes, leaning my elbows on my thighs. “Lu, I don’t know how much longer I can keep this up. If I don’t tell someone, the truth will eventually die with me.” I breathe out. “There’s something else I need you to know.”
“It’s not going to come to that,” Luis says firmly, though his voice softens. “But I’m listening.”
My breath hitches as I try to find the words. Memories flood back, unbidden, overwhelming. The sound of her laugh, her unwavering support, the way she made me believe I could be better. Drew.
Clearing my throat, I force myself to start. “When I was in college, I had a best friend and roommate. Her name was Drew Bennet. She was smart, selfless, beautiful. And she’s the reason I didn’t drop out of college.”
“She sounds great,” Luis says cautiously. “What happened?”
Tears already sting my eyes as I finally say the words I’ve kept buried for so long. “Peter killed her.”
The silence on the line is deafening, until Luis asks, “Come again?”
As I start talking, my grip on the phone tightens, as if holding it will keep me from slipping into the past completely. “I originally found Peter on a forum when I was in college and desperate. My bills were piling up, I couldn’t make rent even after Drew moved in with me, and dropping out of school felt inevitable. I needed work that paid well, and someone connected me to him. You know how it goes from there.”
I pause, wiping at the tears spilling over. Luis says nothing, letting me continue uninterrupted.
“At first, the jobs were legitimate and relatively easy. For the first time in my life, I could cover my half of rent, groceries… I thought I was finally getting ahead.” My voice wavers, and I close my eyes, forcing myself to press on. “But then the jobs started to change, and I convinced myself it was still worth it. It was the first time I had anything to my name, and I wasn’t ready to let go of the steady income.”
I swallow hard, my throat dry despite the tears. “I lied to Drew. I told her I’d gotten a paid, remote internship that turned into a full-time offer after we graduated. She believed me. And things were fine until the day I left my desktop on accidentally.”
Luis stays silent, letting me unravel the story I’ve kept secret.
“She saw, Lu. I don’t even remember which job it was, but it wasn’t good. She flipped out. Said she couldn’t live with the knowledge of what I was doing. She wanted to report me, to turn me in.” My breath hitches, the memory of Drew’s angry, devastated face hitting me like a punch to the gut. “I begged her not to. I told her it wasn’t what she thought, that I’d stop, but she wouldn’t let it go.
I panicked. I told Peter, thinking—God, I don’t know what I thought. That he’d calm her down, maybe scare her into staying quiet. I just wanted to protect what little life I had carved out for myself. I never thought…”
My voice cracks, holding my head in my free hand. “The next morning, I went grocery shopping, and when I got back, the apartment door was cracked open. I thought Drew had left it open by mistake.”
I still can’t say it all out loud. Can’t put words to the way her green eyes stared, dull and lifeless, at the ceiling. The way my knees hit the floor so hard I barely felt it over the icy shock crashing through me. The smell of copper was so overwhelming it burned my nose. My hands, slipping in blood as I tried to press my palms to her chest, tried to force breath into her lungs even though I knew she was gone. My own screams tangled with the 911 operator’s voice in my ear, but I couldn’t stop, couldn’t let go, couldn’t accept that she was already cold beneath my fingers.
A shuddering breath escapes me. “The place was trashed, and Drew… Drew was on the couch. She’d been stabbed. Twenty-six times.”
There’s a sharp intake of breath on the other end of the line, but I can’t stop now. “The police eventually wrote it off as a home invasion gone wrong. No DNA, no leads. The knife was one of ours, and her wallet and a few personal items were missing.”
The guilt crashes over my body so violently, it feels like it’s choking me. “A few days later, Peter called me. He was so calm. Told me it wasn’t just about cleaning up a loose end. It was a punishment for my carelessness. He said I should be grateful he made it look like a random robbery.” My voice trembles with anger, despair, and the crushing weight of my own culpability. “He blamed her and said it was her fault for threatening his operation.”
The silence on the other end is deafening, but I press on, my voice barely above a whisper now. “I told him I wanted out, but he just laughed. Said I owed him for almost ruining his business. That if I stepped out of line again, I’d be next. And after what he did to Drew, I believed him. This was five years ago. I’ve been doing his dirty work for five years because I knew he’d destroy me if I didn’t.”
I wipe my face, but it’s useless. The tears won’t stop. “It’s my fault. All of it. If I hadn’t involved Peter, Drew would still be alive. And now…” My voice breaks. “Now I can’t let him hurt Natalie, too. If I find the servers and give him the information, maybe he’ll leave her alone. If he kills me, fine. But she will not end up like Drew.”
Luis finally speaks, his voice low but firm. “Holy shit, Marilyn. That… that’s a lot to unpack.”
“It’s all my fault,” I whisper, my voice hollow. The shame is suffocating, and for a moment, I can’t breathe.
“I had no idea that’s why you worked for him. I thought… I thought you were like the rest of us,” he admits. I squeeze my eyes shut, unable to respond.
I envied the other contractors I’ve met—people like Luis, who managed to live their lives outside of Peter’s grasp, keeping parts of themselves hidden, untouchable. They were careful, calculating, and free in ways I could barely comprehend.
But not me. I got caught in this too young, dragged in before I even knew what freedom really meant. My life ended the moment I told Peter about Drew, and I’ve been running on borrowed time ever since. The girl I used to be, the life I used to have, all feels like a story I made up.
“Listen to me,” Luis says sharply, snapping me out of my spiral. “First of all, this is not your fault. Peter is a monster. He did that to Drew. Not you. Do you hear me?”
I don’t respond, knowing he’s wrong but not having the energy to argue with him about why Drew isn’t here anymore.
“Second,” he continues, his tone softening slightly, “you’re not going after those servers. Not while you’re staying in that house. I’ll figure it out, but you’re not putting yourself in more danger.”
“I can’t just sit here,” I protest weakly, my voice shaking.
“You can, and you will,” Luis grits out. “If Peter is targeting Natalie to get to you, handing him what he wants won’t stop him. It’ll only make him bolder. We need to figure out what he’s really after and how we can use it against him. Until then, you stay put. Stay close to Silas and Natalie, keep your head down, and let me handle the rest.”
“I don’t want to drag you into this,” I whisper.
“You didn’t drag me into anything,” he says firmly. “I’m here because I care about you, and I’m not going to let Peter ruin your life any more than he already has.”
His words wrap around me like a lifeline, pulling me back from the brink. I don’t deserve his help, his loyalty, but I cling to it anyway.
“Okay,” I murmur, my voice barely audible. “Okay.”
“Good,” he says, his voice softening further. “We’ll figure this out. Together.”
But even as I nod to myself, a small, cynical voice in the back of my mind whispers that this might be a battle neither of us can win.