9. Lilian
Lilian
I ’ve been staring at the same page of my textbook for an hour now. I can’t focus to save my life, and I’m already at my limit of caffeine for the day so another coffee is out of the equation. I’d love to say my lack of concentration has to do with the fact that I’d rather pluck my own eyes out than do advanced calculus, but that would be a lie.
Math isn’t the problem. It’s Aries.
I can’t stop thinking about the dinner party and his strange behavior. None of it makes sense. How does a person go MIA for months and then return like nothing ever happened?
My cell phone chimes, alerting me to a text message. I peer down at the screen and smile.
Emery: Hello, bestie. I miss you.
Me: I miss you, too.
Emery Lamont. My one and only friend. I wish she was here with me. But of course her stupid overprotective hockey-star brother refused to let her attend Oakmount, instead insisting she go to Ravencrest. Guess it pays to be the captain of the team when you want to keep your sister hostage.
Emery : I think I’m going to die of boredom without you.
Me: Please don’t. Something tells me the Grim Reaper will not let you keep your phone in the afterlife.
Emery: Don’t be dramatic.
All I can do is snicker as I type out my response.
Me: Me? Dramatic? Did you not just see what you said?
Emery: That wasn’t me. That was Patricia.
This time I laugh out loud. Which is weird when you’re in a room all by yourself. Emery sends another message before I can respond to her previous one.
Emery: Give me the tea on the brooding stepbrother. Any updates?
Emery lives vicariously through me when it comes to dating. Her own brother is past the point of overprotective. The guy should see a shrink honestly.
Me: Yes, and no. He finally showed up after ghosting everyone for months.
Emery: *clapping GIF* Tell me more.
Me: Nothing is different, but he did apologize.
Emery: Of course he did. Please tell me that you told him to fly a kite.
Me: No. But I was going to ask your opinion on something…
I’ve been thinking about the idea since it popped into my head on Sunday night, when I watched Aries pull into that warehouse parking lot. Half of me felt like it was wrong to follow him after dinner, to question what he was doing at a seedy warehouse in the middle of nowhere, especially when I had nothing to go on but a stupid gut feeling. Maybe his dad has him doing work there for some reason. Or it could be something else… and my gut plus the way he’s been behaving means I have to figure it out. Not like he’s going to tell me.
Aries wasn’t acting like himself—not at the charity event and not at our family dinner. He said he changed . What I felt wasn’t change. It was something else, something I can’t put into words. More of a feeling than anything else.
The only thing to do now is just ensure he’s okay. Prove to myself he’s my stepbrother, even if it means I’ll lose this new...connection…I feel.
Emery: Earth to Lilian. Are you there?
I consider asking Emery for advice, or spilling my plan to her, but I chicken out before I can finish typing out the response. I don’t want her opinion to sway me. I have to do this.
Me: Still here, contemplating life choices.
Emery: What’s the damn question? If I had balls, they would be blue by now.
Me: See, that’s just it. I forgot it.
Emery: *insert angry emoji* Even in text messages, I know you’re lying.
Me: Am not.
Emery: You’re a liar. We both know it. But when you’re ready to talk about it, let me know. I’m always here.
Me: Love you, Em. Psst…if you don’t hear from me in a couple of days, call the cops.
Emery: What the hell, Lil?
With a grin, I switch my phone to vibrate only. Then I snap the textbook closed and turn to the window, ignoring the sudden spike in my heart rate.
Am I really going to do this? Rebel against the norm? Live dangerously?
My dorm room at Oakmount offers a perfect view of the quad where students cross between classes. Not only is it beautiful and scenic but it gives me a vantage point no one else has. This week alone, I’ve caught sight of Aries three times. The last time was today, about thirty minutes ago. If I move quickly, I can trail him to the warehouse again.
No...he’ll be there. I shouldn’t go to the warehouse. I should check his room at The Mill, where he’s still been staying.
Maybe there are answers there? It’s a risky plan, and if I get caught, there won’t be a believable lie to save me, but if I don’t do something, I’m going to go crazy.
My heart thumps a little faster, and I force myself to act without overthinking it further. I grab my jacket, messenger bag with emergency medication, and the pepper spray I ordered online. Mother would faint if she knew what her fragile daughter was about to do.
Okay, it’s really not so dangerous when all I have to do is bat my lashes at Lee and he’ll escort me to Aries’s door.
I smile to myself. For once, my supposed weakness works in my favor. No one suspects the girl with the heart condition of anything but fragility, which makes me the most unsuspecting villain. It’s been thirty minutes since I saw him. If his car is at The Mill, I’ll just turn around, but if not...well...it doesn’t hurt to do a little digging.
It’s now or never.
There’s a lot of hustle and bustle as students and staff intersect, some leaving for the day, and some arriving for evening classes. I climb into my car and slam the door shut, taking a moment to breathe. I don’t want to draw any attention, so I’ll need to keep some distance between us to ensure he doesn’t think anything is off. I have no idea what I’m doing, but I feel that I’ve read enough crime fiction and watched enough movies to act like I do.
I grip the steering wheel hard as anxious butterflies take flight in my belly. I can’t believe I’m doing this.
Acting on impulse and being reckless.
My secondhand Honda Civic is forgettably nondescript compared to his flashy Range Rover. But it’s mine, and I didn’t have to barter hours of my life away from my parents in exchange for it. It was the one thing I fought for with my mother, and thankfully, she decided it wasn’t worth the effort to push back when I was so adamant. Little rebellions like my car is what keeps me going...the only way I can manage the stupid parties without ripping my hair out.
The drive to the parking lot nearest The Mill only takes a few minutes. Technically, I don’t need to drive here but, there’s less of a chance of an asthma attack if I have less distance to walk. I park in a spot that gives me a clear view of the entrance but keeps my car partially hidden behind a large SUV. The Mill House stands imposing against the darkening sky, its Victorian architecture somehow both beautiful and oppressive at once. I’ve only been here a handful of times, and only ever as Aries’s stepsister, never as someone with purpose.
Today is different. Today, I need answers.
My phone buzzes with a text.
Emery: Whatever you are doing, be careful.
Me: Not doing anything but homework.
Emery: You’re a big fat liar. Be fucking careful.
She knows me too well.
Me: Will update soon.
Then I silence my phone, even the vibration, and slip it into my pocket.
Taking a deep breath, I exit the car and approach the building. The evening air carries a chill that makes me pull my jacket tighter around myself. Students pass by, laughing and talking, oblivious to my racing heart and sweaty palms. I try to look like I belong, like I’m just another visitor to a friend’s place and not someone about to break into her stepbrother’s room.
Despite campus security's repeated warnings, the front door isn’t locked—it never is. I slip inside, keeping my head down as I navigate the familiar hallway. Music pounds from somewhere upstairs, and the smell of pizza wafts from the common room.
I’m almost at the stairs when a voice stops me cold.
“Lilian? What are you doing here?”
I turn to find Lee, Aries’s best friend, tousled, shirtless, lounging against the doorframe of the common room. His expression is curious rather than suspicious, which I take as a good sign.
“Lee, hey,” I manage, hoping my voice sounds casual.
Lee frowns, pushing off the doorframe to approach me. “Hey. I wanted to ask you if you saw Aries yet? Housing office is on my ass about clearing out his room—new students coming next week. I’ve been trying to reach him, but he’s not answering his phone.”
A cold feeling settles in my stomach. “Oh, yes I actually just spoke to him,” I lie smoothly. “He asked me to grab a few things from his room. Said he’d finish clearing it out tomorrow.”
Lee studies me for a moment, then shrugs. “Cool. Glad to hear he’s alive, at least.” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a key. “Use the key. It’ll save you the trouble of picking the lock. If you steal something, make sure it’s the booze and the drugs, then come back down here and share them with me.”
I give a forced laugh, but he doesn’t seem to notice. I take the key, hoping he doesn’t notice my hand trembling. “Thanks. I won’t be long.”
“No rush,” Lee says, already turning back toward the common room. “I’m about to head out anyway. Stay as long as you like. Hell, burn the place down if you want.”
I don’t comment on the last bit, hoping he’s merely joking, but from the look on his face I don’t think so. I climb the stairs quickly, heart thundering against my ribs.
At Aries’s door, I pause, key in hand. This is the point of no return. I insert the key, turn it, and slip inside, closing the door quietly behind me.
The room is exactly as I remember from my last visit years ago—meticulously organized, everything in its perfect place. Unlike most college students, Aries keeps his space like a military barracks, a habit instilled by his father from an early age.
I don’t waste another second peering around the room. Moving to his desk, I begin opening drawers, searching for anything that might shed light on…what, exactly?
What am I hunting for?
I don’t really know. Anything that feels weird or looks out of place.
The first two drawers yield nothing but school supplies and neatly organized papers. The third is locked. I pull a bobby pin from my hair, bending it into shape the way Aries himself taught me just after our parents married. It takes longer than expected since I haven’t done this in years, but eventually, I hear the satisfying click of the lock disengaging.
I pull the drawer open, and my pulse spikes when I see a leather-bound journal worn from frequent handling. Beside it is a small USB drive. This is it. I don’t know how I know, but my gut tells me so. I grab both items and climb up onto his bed with them.
Opening the journal, I scour the pages.
The first pages contain mundane details—class notes, schedules, to-do lists. As I flip further, the content changes. Sketches appear between entries, careful pencil drawings made with a skilled hand. A street scene. The campus quad. And then—me.
My breath catches in my throat. It’s unmistakably me, sitting by the fountain outside the Hayes mansion, head bent over a book. The attention to detail is astonishing—the shaping of my face, the curve of my neck, the concentration in my expression. With a newfound eagerness, I skim the pages to reveal more sketches of me, all in various settings—at family dinners, in the garden, walking across campus.
He’s been watching me all this time. Drawing me. Preserving moments I never knew he noticed. Between the sketches are journal entries, his neat handwriting filling page after page. I shouldn’t read them. It’s an invasion of privacy that crosses even the boundaries I’ve already broken by being here, but curiosity has a choke hold on me.
I need to understand, need to know if there are answers here.
I read over the words quickly but find nothing but mundane details and observations. Then I remember the black leather book he used to carry around.
This isn’t the same one. This is the fake one he used to write in for therapy.
The ones the parents might read or the therapist.
Where the heck is the real one?
I dig around the desk a bit more, then I think about all his hiding spots when we were kids. He wrote in a journal religiously. One time he hid it under his pillow, another time under a floorboard. I drop to my knees on the rug by the bed and run my hands along the frame, then pause when I find the familiar edge of a notebook. Jackpot. I smile to myself, my constant observation of him finally paying off. This journal is smaller than his other one.
Which makes it easier to hide. I drag it out and sit on the edge of the bed again to read. I open it to a random entry.
September 15 th
Dinner with Father and Patricia. Lilian wore a blue dress. It matches her eyes in a way that makes it difficult to look away. Had to excuse myself early, claiming a headache. Ironically true, though not for the reasons they assume. The longer I stay in her presence, the harder it becomes to maintain distance. The careful boundaries I’ve established feel increasingly fragile. For her safety, I must be stronger.
My heart pounds as I turn the page.
October 3rd
Found her crying in the garden today. Some argument with Patricia about college applications. Wanted to comfort her, but what comfort could I possibly offer when I’m the one who needs to stay away? The space between us is the only gift I can give her. If she knew what I am, what I’ve done...
He breaks off there, the entry incomplete. I flip forward, my hands trembling.
December 24 th , Christmas Eve.
Family photo session for the Hayes holiday card. Patricia positioned us side by side. Lilian’s hand brushed mine, a casual touch that shouldn’t mean anything. I’ve spent the hours since in cold showers and punishing workouts. Father’s suspicious glances suggest he notices more than I’d like. Must be more careful.
I can’t do it. I close the journal, emotion tightening my throat. All this time, I thought his distance was indifference, even cruelty. These entries suggest something else—a purposeful separation, a protective measure. It doesn’t make sense.
What is he protecting me from?
I don’t know what comes over me, but instead of stashing the journal back into its hiding spot, I slip it into my backpack. There’s more I need to know, and I’m willing to face the consequences if he figures out I took it. But, really, how would he find out?
With the journal secure, I continue my search. Where would a person hide things they want no one to see while still keeping it in plain sight? I scan the bedroom. There’s nothing under the bed. No more drawers on the desk.
My gaze falls to the closet door. Bingo. I pull the door open and flick the light on. Ten minutes later, I discover a shoebox that’s been pushed to the back of the highest shelf. Nothing says secrets like that. I pull it down, brushing off the thick coating of dust on the top that tells me he hasn’t opened the box in some time.
I flip the top of the box off. I’m not sure what I anticipated finding inside that box, but it isn’t the watch I had given him two years ago. I don’t know if I should be angry or melt into a puddle over the fact that he’s kept it this whole time.
It’s in perfect condition, and looks just as it did the day I gave it to him. Unsure of how I feel, I shove it into my pocket and move onto the numerous newspaper clippings, the paper yellowed with age.
LOCAL TEEN SENT TO TREATMENT FOLLOWING BOATHOUSE INCIDENT reads the headline. The article is sparse on details, mentioning only that a Hayes youth had been transferred to a specialized facility following an unfortunate accident at the family’s lake property.
No names. No specifics. This isn’t a news story, it’s a cover-up. Made to be deliberately vague so it can be quickly buried.
There’s another clipping, this one from the financial section:
HAYES PHARMACEUTICALS ACQUIRES NORTHSTAR FACILITIES.
The acquisition date is just weeks after the boathouse incident.
At the bottom of the box is a photograph—two identical boys, perhaps seven years old, standing with an older man I recognize as Aries’s father. Both boys are wearing identical swim trunks and smiles. It would appear you couldn’t tell them apart if you tried, but there’s a subtle difference in their posture.
One stands straight and attentive, while the other leans slightly, as if resisting the formal pose. Maybe it’s a cousin I never met.
That would be possible, but Aries’s dad doesn’t have any siblings, so how can these two look so alike? Some part of me wants to hold on to these thoughts, these conclusions, to just keep lying to myself because it’s simpler than facing the truth.
There’s a thunderous crash, the sound coming from downstairs. It jolts me back to the present. Voices approach—one of them raising in anger. I recognize it immediately, though it’s harsher than Aries usually sounds.
Shit.
I panic, switching off the light and retreating to the closet, pulling the door nearly closed but leaving a crack to see through. The room door bangs open seconds later, and a figure storms in, rage in every movement. I’ve seen Aries angry, and I know from personal experience how monstrous he can be, but there’s a menace to this prowling.
He’s on the phone, stalking back and forth with agitated energy.
“I already told you, I’m not your errand boy,” he snarls. “I don’t work for you—this arrangement was supposed to be mutually beneficial.”
He pauses, listening to whoever is on the other end. Whatever they’re saying has his anger rising tenfold, his voice becoming murderous.
“Listen to me very carefully,” he continues, voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “I’m executing this my way. If you have a problem with my methods, perhaps we should reconsider our agreement.”
Another pause, longer this time. He yanks open the desk drawer I’d searched earlier, rifling through it with increasing frustration.
“It’s not here,” he growls into the phone. “I’ll look in his other hiding places—if I find it, I’ll tell you. But I want to be clear: this changes the timeline. I’ll need more time if you’re going to have me searching the countryside for shit.”
Whatever the response is, it isn’t one he wants to hear, as he ends the call with a vicious jab to the screen and hurls the phone onto the bed.
“Fuck!” he shouts, slamming the drawer shut with such force that the entire desk shakes.
I press myself further into the closet, willing my breathing to remain silent, my heart to stop its frantic pounding. He’s looking for something—something important enough to warrant this rage. The USB drive burns in my pocket like a red-hot coal.
Aries moves to the closet, and I shrink back against the wall, using the clothes as a shield, praying the darkness conceals me. My heart pounds so loudly I’m afraid the sound will give me away. I hold my breath when he reaches up to the shelf where I found the shoebox, pulling it down and rifling through its contents.
“Where is it?” he mutters to himself. “Where the fuck did you hide it?”
What does he mean, you?
I watch through a small gap in the clothes as he dumps the box’s contents onto the bed— newspaper clippings, photographs. When he doesn’t find what he’s looking for, he shoves everything back inside and returns the box to the shelf.
For one terrifying moment, his hand brushes against the sleeve of one of his trench coats I’m hiding behind. Thankfully he’s too preoccupied to notice the slight movement, the whisper of fabric against fabric. After what feels like hours but is probably only minutes, he makes a disgruntled sound and stalks out of the room, slamming the door behind him.
I wait, counting to one hundred before daring to breathe normally again. My legs tremble as I emerge from the closet, adrenaline coursing through my veins.
Whatever is on this USB drive is important enough to enrage him. Important enough to potentially disrupt some agreement he has with an unnamed associate.
The first thing I need to do is get out of here and examine its contents.
I’m willing to face Aries’s, wrath, but if this is related to his father’s work, then...am I willing to face his wrath, as well?
What if I screw something up?
Since I was a child, I’d had a problem keeping my nose out of other people’s business. I notice every tiny detail, all of the changes. What if this gut instinct has nothing to do with Aries being different? I guess that’s a risk I have to take.
I return the fake journal to the drawer, thankful he didn’t notice it was missing. I do a quick sweep of the room to ensure I’m leaving things exactly as I found them except for the drive now burning a hole in my pocket, along with the watch and the journal in my bag.
All are a small token of the Aries I thought I knew, the one whose journal entries suggest he cares more than he’s ever allowed himself to show.
Carefully, I crack open the door, peering into the hallway. Empty. I slip out, locking the door behind me with Lee’s key. Each step down the stairs feels like a potential disaster, but I make it to the ground floor without incident.
Lee is gone, but several people are engaged in a heated video game battle. With their attention fixed on the screen, no one notices me. I place Lee’s key on a side table where he’ll find it later, then slip out the front door.
The night air hits me like a shot of clarity. I’ve done it—I’ve survived my first real act of rebellion, of investigation. The best part is that I found something that might change everything.
Once in my car, I clutch the USB drive, turning it over in my palm. Whatever secrets it contains, whatever Aries is searching for, I now possess.
This is the first real leverage I’ve had over him... ever .
There’s a newfound confidence in my blood. I have the chance to understand Aries, to figure out what exactly is going on with him.
This is only the beginning…