Chapter 19
Nineteen
Astrid
"We all know a tiger doesn't change its stripes," Annalise said from her spot in the front passenger seat. "Once an asshole, always an asshole."
Was she right? Did people never change?
"That's not true," Aria argued. "People can change if they really want to and if they put in the hard work."
"It's extremely rare," my oldest sister said. "I mean, look at Mom and Dad. They just get more them as they get older, more and more steeped in the way they are. You know?"
She had a point. They were cute and all with each other, renewing their vows recently, but they were both kind of self-absorbed and always had been. And now, it seemed like they were just becoming more so.
"Might I interject?" Annalise's boyfriend Max pulled to a stop at a red light.
"No," Annalise said.
"Yes," Aria and I both said.
He laughed, giving his girlfriend the side eye then focusing in on her. "Well, my darling Lise, if you recall, we've both changed quite a bit recently. So I think people can change."
"Well, my darling Ax, I didn't say they couldn't. I said it was rare. Extremely rare."
I let out a slow breath. "And even when people do change, how do you know it's real? How do you know it's not just temporary? Or just an act?"
Aria frowned. "What do you mean?"
"I mean, Tristan seems different now. But how much of that is real and how much is just him being.
.. I don't know, manipulative? Whatever game he's playing, he's been good at it for a long time.
" I shook my head. "It's all so confusing.
Because in person, he's—he's funny and charming.
He's good to his brother. He acts like he actually cares about people.
But then I saw that picture, and I remembered exactly who he is. "
"How recent was it, would you guess?" Aria, sitting next to me, asked.
Reviewing the awful picture of Tristan with his bully friends that had been embedded in my brain for the last several days, I shrugged. "I'm not sure. But it had to be within the last few years."
Aria suddenly gasped, then covered her mouth, averting her gaze.
My stomach dropped. "What?"
She shook her head, her eyes filled with some unknown horror.
"What?" Annalise repeated more urgently from the front seat. "You can't just gasp like that and not tell us."
I watched her take a breath and release it. "I just realized that the annual St. Lucius fundraising gala is coming up and so many alumni go. That's probably where the picture was from."
A cold wave crashed over me. A room full of people who had made my life hell. People who had laughed at me, whispered about me, mocked me. And their fearless leader, Tristan Hawthorne, grinning like he was the king of all Manhattan.
"You could show up and go all Carrie on them," Annalise said.
Aria and Max laughed.
"You know I haven't seen that movie." Horror films weren't exactly my thing. That zombie movie, which hadn't technically been horror, had given me nightmares for days now.
"Well, let's just say she gets her revenge." Annalise turned her body to look at me. "That's for sure."
Revenge. That word again. The word tasted different tonight. Sharper. More... something. Because my body was still reacting to the warmth of his hand, his touch, the way his thumb had brushed over my skin like he actually cared.
Which was something I wouldn't think about. Lots of people had nice hands that were strong and warm and sweet and tender and gentle and gave me chills every time they caressed me.
Oh, crap.
No. Again, that was part of my revenge. The whole handholding thing had just been about drawing him in closer and closer, letting him think I was falling for him.
"So what's the plan?" Max asked from the driver's seat.
"The plan is to very anonymously go up against Tristan's company so we can stop this awful development from happening," Annalise told him.
"I know that. I meant right now. What are we doing?"
"Don't you listen at all? I only told you like five times."
"Baby, you know I hang off your every word."
She rolled her eyes, but there was no heat to it, just amusement at the man beside her.
"We're meeting with a lawyer and a community leader to see what we can do.
Because this asshole must be stopped. And we're not stopping until his plan is destroyed, his reputation is in tatters, and his whole damn life is bleeding out. "
Max shot her a look that was pure adoration. "God, I love you."
She smiled softly before turning back to me.
"This isn't just about payback, Astrid. We can actually win.
We can actually help people. Real people.
Families, small business owners, tenants who have lived there for decades.
And if Tristan has to take a financial hit in the process, well, that's just a bonus. "
A low whistle sounded from Max. "I'd just like to point out that this is kind of sexy. You, fighting for justice."
Annalise flicked his arm. "Focus."
I stared out the window as Max turned a corner, the Manhattan skyline shrinking behind us. My breath made the cold glass fog up, the streetlights slowly turning on as dusk began its inevitable descent.
My stomach felt weird, heavy, and a little queasy. Was I hungry? Or was it just nerves?
Or was it regret? No. Not regret. Doubt. And doubt was dangerous.
God, my emotions were all over the place lately. One second, I was mooning over my old high school bully and the relationship he had with his little brother, and the next, I was ready to burn Tristan's whole life down.
Was I about to start my period? I never bothered to track my cycle since I was so irregular. I always had been, so what was the point? It'd been a while though. So maybe that was all this was—premenstrual mood swings.
"Everything okay?" Aria asked me, tearing me from my thoughts.
"Oh, I'm fine."
Annalise gave me a look. "No, you're not. You're making that face."
"What face?"
"The guilty one."
"I don't have a guilty face," I protested.
"You totally do," Annalise said. "Like a golden retriever who got caught with her head in the trash."
"Um, okay. That's flattering." I laughed.
But I had to concede. Because she was right.
I did feel guilty. At least in this exact moment.
Later, the fiery need for revenge would probably return.
"I don't know. I mean, Tristan's a grade A asshole, obviously.
But it still feels kind of... I don't know, mean? "
Annalise let out a short laugh. "Astrid. This man was responsible for making you miserable in high school. I was the one who picked you up that day. I was the one who literally talked you off the ledge. I was the one who wiped away your tears."
"I did too," Aria said softly.
That emotional lump rose up in my throat, and I nodded at them, incapable of speaking. What would I do without these two? I hoped I never had to find out. At least not for many, many years.
"And now," Annalise continued, "he's actively trying to bulldoze an entire neighborhood for profit. His dad is practically a cartoon villain in the finance world. And you're worried about being mean? You're actually hesitating?"
I exhaled through my nose. "I'm not hesitating. I'm just... making sure."
That I wasn't becoming the very thing I hated? That I wasn't turning around and ruining someone's life the way they'd ruined mine? Was this really the right thing to do?
"I don't know," I muttered, unable to fully express myself, the emotions too raw and tangled.
Aria nudged me with her knee. "We're not even doing anything directly to him. We're just... creating obstacles."
"Exactly," Annalise agreed. "Strategic resistance. Also known as making rich men cry."
Max made a noise, and I wondered if he'd have anything to say to that, although thanks to my sister, he wasn't nearly as rich as he'd once been. He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel for a moment before talking. "Hey, speaking of making rich men cry, I've actually met Charles Hawthorne."
Annalise's head snapped toward him. "Tristan's dad?"
"Yep. That's the one. Arrogant, cutthroat, the kind of guy who doesn't just step on people, he grinds them into the pavement just for fun. My company's dealt with him before, and he plays dirty."
My stomach twisted.
"Well then, that means we can play dirty too," Annalise said, a wicked gleam in her eyes.
Max let out a noise that was half-sigh, half-chuckle. "You're terrifying."
"Thank you, babe."
The city gave way to grayer streets and more rundown buildings as we drove closer and closer to Southside Flats. The neighborhood had an old-school charm, the kind of place where generations had built their lives, an area that felt lived in, loved. People had history here.
I could see why Tristan and his dad wanted it, why people like them always wanted places like this. But I could also see why it needed to be protected.
We passed brownstones, corner delis, and pedestrians everywhere bundled up in their puffy coats. And then finally, Max pulled into a small lot next to a little coffee shop, miraculously finding a spot to park in.
Once we got out, I tugged my coat tighter, my boots crunching on the salted pavement as we walked closer to the coffee shop, Max holding the door open for all of us. Once inside, the warmth and scent of espresso washed over us.
We stood just inside the door looking around for an awkward moment until Annalise spotted a woman at a corner table, a laptop in front of her, along with an older man wearing a worn leather jacket.
"I think that's them."
The man stood as we approached them. "Annalise?" he asked.
Beaming, my sister extended a hand. "That's me. Great to meet you."
Introductions were made, drinks were ordered, and we settled into the meeting, well, everyone except Max who, being Max, got up to get himself a pastry the size of his face.
"All right, let's talk about what's happening," Natalie the lawyer said, cutting right to the chase. "Hawthorne Properties is pushing forward fast, and if we don't act quickly, this project is going to get rubber-stamped before anyone can fight back."
"So how do we stop it?" Annalise asked. "What can we do?"
Wrapping my hands around my drink, I leaned in, listening intently as Natalie launched into an explanation, talking about zoning laws, the possibility of getting certain buildings declared as historical landmarks, a very slow process, and other ways to delay the project that would hopefully make investors wary.
If we slowed them down enough, the money might just dry up.
Annalise was practically vibrating with excitement. "So how else can we put the brakes on this?"
The community leader, Eddie, chimed in. "We need public pressure. They still need city approval, so council members need to feel like this is a bad political move."
I took a slow breath. "And how can we help?"
Natalie turned her laptop our way to show us a spreadsheet. "First off, with your financial backing—anonymous, of course, like we discussed—we can challenge these evictions in court."
"And," Eddie said, "if we can get the right media coverage, we can spread the word, make it personal. I mean, we've got elderly people, sick people, a woman with cancer, single moms and dads, little kids. No one wants their name attached to a story about evicting these people."
Max, who had already finished half his pastry, suddenly said, "I can make a few calls to some of the investment firms I know that are backing this. Maybe talk about how high risk it is, and they might start to pull out."
Eddie looked impressed. "That could change the game. Developers rely on momentum. If one investor gets cold feet, it could start a chain reaction."
Annalise pushed her cup aside with a decisive motion. "So between all these ways to fight back, we have a real shot at stopping this?"
Natalie nodded. "If we move fast, yes."
We spent a little longer going over details and a game plan, Annalise taking notes in her phone. For some reason, she wanted to take charge on this whole project, and I was content to let her.
I was exhausted. I had fashion week coming up. I had a man I was trying to make fall for me. And again, I was just exhausted. She seemed to have enough energy for the both of us, powered by what, I didn't know.
But thinking about her words on the drive here, what Tristan had done to me in high school had affected her almost as much as it had me. Maybe even more? After all, sometimes watching someone you love suffer is even harder than enduring it yourself.
As we headed back to the car and passed a little kid zooming down the slick sidewalk on a scooter, laughing as his mom called after him to slow down, I was still that strange swirl of emotions. But I did know one thing for sure.
This was the right thing to do.