Chapter 48
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
EMMA
A fter the burial, Alex took the shovel, the camera from the tree, and the torches that were scattered around and loaded them into the boot of his car.
“I’ll come back in the morning and get rid of his car,” he told me.
We both climbed into Alex’s car, neither one of us talking, as he started the engine and drove away.
After a few minutes of driving in silence, Alex said, “I’ll need to speak to Ethan tonight, get him to wipe whatever he can from the footage online. He’ll know what to do. He always knows what to do.”
I didn’t reply.
Then, a minute later, he added, “I think I need to torch the car tomorrow. Find somewhere to burn it out. Or a lake maybe, an area of deep water where I can push it in. It needs to disappear.”
Again, I nodded dumbly as he made plans. Organising everything to avoid thinking about what’d happened.
“I’ll need to check his diary, make sure any future events are cancelled. I don’t want anyone sniffing around,” he added, and I zoned out, staring out of the window as we drove through the darkness.
I felt the warmth of his hand as he reached over to touch my leg and give me a reassuring squeeze.
“I meant what I said back there,” he said. “I love you, Emma. So much.”
“I love you too,” I replied, covering his hand with mine.
I always would.
In the days that followed, Alex kept himself busy, cancelling Arran’s appointments, events, and letting people know Arran had left the country and wouldn’t be contactable for the foreseeable future. It wasn’t hard to accept. He was an elusive figure. Him disappearing to another country was something people didn’t question. It was in keeping with his chaotic lifestyle.
Ethan had come to the house that same night, and he and Alex had locked themselves away for hours, discussing the footage, and what they could do to shut it down. I don’t know if he told Ethan exactly what’d happened. I don’t know if Ethan watched the footage. But later that night, Alex assured me it had been taken care of. No one would see it. It was buried. Never to see the light of day.
I don’t know what he decided to do with Arran’s car. I didn’t want to ask. He’d tied up all the loose ends and that was all I needed to know.
I didn’t want to think about that night at all, but I knew we had to. For our own sanity, we needed to have some sort of counselling.
I brought it up to Alex one night, as we were lying in bed, holding each other. He hummed in response, which I couldn’t decide was a ‘yes’ or a ‘we’ll see’. But then he started to talk, to really open up to me, and I took the time to listen, to let him know I’d always listen. I’d always be here.
“I saw him once,” he said. “I was about six years old, and we were driving through the town in my mother’s Bentley. We stopped at some lights, and I glanced out of the window, and there he was, standing in the street, on his own. He was filthy, his clothes were torn and ragged, and his shoes looked like they were about to fall off his feet. He was throwing rocks at the cars driving past, but he didn’t throw one at ours. He just stopped and stared when he saw our car.
“I remember pointing at him and saying to my mother, “That boy looks just like me,” and she sneered and pulled me away from the window, telling me to sit back in my seat. Then she said, “Aren’t you glad it isn’t you? I mean, look at him. He’s a filthy little boy. Look how dirty he is. Look at the state of him.” And then the car drove on and he was gone. She never looked back. She didn’t care that he was living a life like that. He wasn’t her responsibility anymore. What sort of a mother can do that?”
He pulled me closer to him, smelling my hair before he kissed the top of my head.
“I only found out the truth when they died,” he went on. “When they passed away, I was given the access code for the safe by their lawyers. Inside was a letter from my mother explaining what they’d done, along with two birth certificates. Mine and Arran’s. She’d kept his birth certificate despite throwing him out like trash. And knowing what they did sickened me. I realised then that the boy I’d seen all those years ago didn’t just look like me. I guessed it was Arran, and I tried to reach out to him. I wanted to help him. None of this was his fault, not really. The life he’d led up until I’d found him had pulled him down a path to destruction and it was hard to pull him back out. I tried, but I see now, it was impossible. I failed.”
“You didn’t fail, Alex,” I said, trying to ease the burden of his guilt. “You did the best you could in a bad situation.”
“But it wasn’t enough. Nothing would ever be enough. Two lives destroyed for the sake of one woman’s spite. I hated my parents for a long time. But now, I feel nothing for them. Even pity is too good for them. They don’t deserve to be in my thoughts, to have any sort of legacy.”
“And that’s why you refused their title,” I added, stroking my fingers gently down his back for comfort.
“I know I took the money. I felt like that was owed to both of us. Arran got his fair share through his work, and I set up a savings account for him too, with what was left over. But the titles...” He shook his head. “They loved those titles. But I didn’t want them. It was their name, not mine. So, I decided to let them stay buried with my parents. She’d have liked that, being the last ever Duchess of Sunford. No one else would ever live up to that title in her eyes. And why would they want to? For me, the title was cursed.”
Alex went on, talking about the years following his parents’ death, and how he’d tried to do what he could to save his brother. But not everyone can be saved. Some people are so consumed by their demons, that the demons eventually take control. And that’s what’d happened to Arran. Just like the poem he’d recited in Italy, Arran had been a tortured man, but his demons roared too powerful and loud. They were unstoppable. No one could tame him. He didn’t want to be tamed. He lived for the chaos, and he died for it, too.