Chapter 25
Chapter Twenty-Five
PENELOPE
So this is really happening. We’re breaking into my childhood home like a pack of very attractive raccoons.
“We’re going.” Gideon sighs.
Silas nods, calm in that broody-murderous way he has. “Get dressed.”
I’m already dressed. Yoga pants and a hoodie. Hair in a bun that screams, “I’m not emotionally prepared for this.” I don’t tell them that part of me wishes they’d insist I stay behind. It’s my childhood home… but I haven’t walked through that front door without stress since Abi moved in.
But Minxy might be in trouble, and I’m tired of pretending Abi’s normal. My dad deserves better, and there’s always been something off about her.
Silas drives while I sit in the back like a sulking teenager whose two boyfriends are chauffeuring her into Hell. The trees blur by. My knee bounces. Gideon keeps glancing back, probably checking if I’m breathing.
“We’ll be in and out,” he promises.
“Who keeps personal files in the bedroom?” I ask. “I mean, I know she wanted her own office, but my dad told her last year they couldn’t swing a remodel.”
“It’s just them there,” he replies. “She’s not worried about anyone snooping cause who’s there? Your dad’s in love, and normal people in love don’t go through each other’s shit. It’s why we won’t touch anything we don’t need to.”
“Talon’s still there?” Silas asks.
“Yes,” Gideon answers.
“Good,” Silas mutters.
“Is he okay?” I ask.
Gideon smirks. “Admit it. You like him.”
Silas sighs. “He does grow on you.”
“Like mold?” I mumble.
“Sure,” he says.
When we pull up to the house, the driveway feels longer than usual. I grit my teeth. Talon opens the door before we can knock. His hair’s tousled like he’s been pacing. His shirt’s wrinkled. He looks tired but wired.
He looks at me first.
Not them.
“Hey,” he says quietly. “You came.”
“Of course she did,” Silas says, guarded.
Talon’s eyes flick between them, then back to me. “Bedroom’s this way.”
Bedroom. Right. The epicenter of Abi’s insanity.
We walk up the stairs and down the hall. My skin crawls with every step. Childhood photos line the walls, but the frames are all new, and she’s added pictures of her and my dad but none of us together or of Talon and Minxy.
Talon pushes open the bedroom door. It shouldn’t feel like a crime scene. But it does.
The room’s huge—vaulted ceiling, pristine king bed, matching nightstands, a ridiculous chandelier. Everything’s emerald and gold, the colors my mom picked just with new furniture. The air smells like citrus perfume and vanilla…not a good combo.
I swallow hard.
“It’s all over here,” Talon says. He points to the dresser, and the neatly fanned stack of papers he left out, plus a manila folder sitting half-open. “Figured you’d want to see it exactly how I found it.”
“Perfect,” Gideon murmurs.
We get to work.
Silas puts a pair of gloves on and heads to check the drawers on her nightstand.
Gideon goes straight for the papers on the dresser, and I follow him Gideon, feeling like I’m a kid in my parent’s bedroom searching for birthday gifts.
Talon just stays near the door, listening, eyes constantly flicking toward the hallway.
Together we work like a well synched machine seeking the evidence we need to uncover the lies and betrayal woven around our dysfunctional little family.
The papers on the dresser are incriminating.
St. Helen’s Institute for Girls sits bold at the top of every invoice. There’s the disciplinary sheet about Minxy trying to make a phone call. There’s the “behavioral irregularities” list with her name highlighted like a warning sign.
“Here,” Talon says, stepping closer to Gideon. “That’s the one that says ‘witnessed incident.’ And that.” He taps another line with his knuckle. “That’s the part about monitoring her speech when she’s stressed.”
Gideon’s mouth tightens. “I see it.” He starts taking pictures of everything. Every page, front and back. Every scribbled note in the margins. Every highlight. Each click of his phone sounds too loud in the quiet room.
“They’re not teaching her,” I say, my voice smaller than I mean it to be. “They’re holding her academically hostage.”
Silas pulls open a nightstand drawer. Neatly folded hand cream tubes, a rosary that Abi definitely only uses for aesthetics, a little notebook with a gold clasp. He flips it open and scans quickly.
“Appointments,” he mutters. “Names. Initials. Payments marked off. I’ll take photos.”
“Do it,” Gideon agrees. “We need to know everything about that school.”
I pop the lid on the storage chest. It smells like cedar and expensive fabric softener.
There are blankets, yes, but tucked under one is another file folder. Thinner. Tighter. I pull it free.
Inside are printed emails. My heart stutters as I read.
From: A. Hall
To: Headmistress, St. Helen’s
Subject: Minxy – continued placement
Given Minxy’s recent behavior and her sensitivity around certain topics, I request that she remain with your program through the duration of my upcoming wedding. I don’t want her exposed to additional stress or influences that could undermine her progress.
I swallow. Hard.
“Influences,” I say. “That’s me and Talon.”
Gideon looks up. “Let me see.”
I hand the page over. He reads it once, then again, his jaw tightening each time. He doesn’t swear, but the air around him feels like he did. He holds the page up and snaps a photo.
Silas pulls open the second nightstand drawer and finds a small metal lockbox. “Talon.”
Talon’s already moving. He digs his hand into his pocket and pulls out a bent paperclip. He kneels, fiddles with the lock, and pops it open.
Inside are a USB drive, a folded photo, and a thin metal bracelet that looks like it belonged to someone else.
“USB,” Gideon says. “Give it to me.”
Silas hands it over.
I reach for the photo, unfolding it carefully. Abi stands in the middle, younger, in a sundress, smiling wider than I have ever seen her smile. Her arm is around a man I don’t recognize. He has laughing eyes and a hand resting on her waist like it belongs there.
“I don’t know this guy,” I say.
“You wouldn’t,” Talon says quietly. “That’s my dad, her first husband.”
“The one who died?” I whisper.
He nods once. “Yeah.”
Silas leans over my shoulder. “We’re taking that too.”
Gideon snaps a picture of the photo before I refold it and tuck it into a folder with the emails.
The bracelet glints under the light. It’s small. Too small for Abi. Maybe too small for anyone grown. My chest tightens. “Is this Minxy’s?”
Talon’s throat works. “No. That’s mine. From when I was a kid.”
Of course it is. I place it back in the box as if it might explode.
Silas closes the lockbox and moves to check under the bed. “If she hides anything else, it’ll be somewhere she thinks no one has a reason to look.”
We’re mid-search when I hear it. The rumble of the garage door and the distant roll of tires.
I freeze. “Someone’s home.”
Talon checks his phone. “She shouldn’t be—”
“No,” I say, moving to the window. “That’s my dad’s car.”
Relief hits me so hard my knees go soft. I grab the windowsill and suck in a slow breath. Gideon straightens, already sliding the last page back into position.
We walk out calmly. We didn’t touch anything we shouldn’t have.
Silas shuts the nightstand drawer, wipes his gloved hand across the top once like he’s checking for dust, and peels the gloves off, tucking them into his pocket.
Talon moves to the door, opens it, and we step out into the hall just as Dad rounds the corner in the hallway.
His face lights up the second he sees me. “Penelope. Well, this is a surprise.”
Guilt stings under my ribs. “Hey, Dad.” I force a smile that feels almost real. “Sorry for just showing up. I wanted to apologize for ducking out early last night. I had a headache.”
He waves it off. “Oh sweetheart, that’s nothing. You didn’t miss much.”
His gaze lands on Silas and Gideon, and his whole face brightens. “Ah, look at that. Back again.” He claps Gideon on the shoulder like they’ve been friends for years. “Didn’t expect to see you two so soon after last night.”
I nearly choke.
Silas steps forward, polite and steady. “Good to see you again, Chad.”
Gideon offers his hand—firm shake and easy smile. “Thank you for welcoming us twice in twenty-four hours. Hope we’re not intruding.”
“Not at all,” Dad says, waving that off like it’s absurd. “Any family of Talon and Abi’s is welcome here. What brings you all by?”
“We were visiting Talon,” Gideon answers smoothly. “He said he was here and asked us to swing through.”
Dad looks between us like that makes his entire afternoon. “That’s great. I love seeing him with good people around him.”
He turns back to me. “Abi told me to tell you that there is a dress fitting tomorrow. She’s very excited.”
I swallow around the sudden dryness in my throat. “Yeah. Okay. Ummm, can you text me the time and place?”
“Of course.” He smiles.
I clear my throat. “Actually, Dad—there’s something I want to ask before we go.”
He looks up from adjusting the cuff of his shirt, giving me his full attention. “What’s on your mind, sweetheart?”
“I still want to meet Minxy,” I say plainly. “Before the wedding. Before any of this becomes official.”
His brows lift, surprised but not bothered.
“I can’t stand up there as your best woman when I’ve never even exchanged a word with your future stepdaughter. I don’t want to walk into a family I don’t know. And I definitely don’t want her walking into one without someone in her corner.”
Chad lets out a long breath, and something softens in his face. Something relieved.
“I’m glad you said that,” he admits. “I’ve been trying to make that happen. I want you two to meet. Hell, I’d like to meet her. But she’s… well, she’s gotten herself into a little trouble at school.”
A knot forms in my stomach. “What kind of trouble?”