2. Sutton
Chapter 2
Sutton
B ishop walks up beside me and casually drapes an arm over my shoulder.
I quickly shake it off.
He frowns but doesn’t push back, and for once I’m grateful for it.
“So how’s our little patient doing?” he asks.
“Alex is doing fine,” I reply with a shrug.
“Fine?” Bishop raises an eyebrow.
“That’s not very descriptive.”
I sigh, knowing he won’t let this go.
“She’s resting now. No signs of permanent damage. She has a mild concussion, but the doctor thinks she could potentially be released tomorrow.”
Bishop nods, his eyes fixed on the courtyard ahead.
“And how much does she remember?” Bishop’s voice is low, almost solemn.
I snort. “All of it.”
The image of Alex’s lifeless body lies burned into my mind, haunting me.
She had been sprawled like a ragdoll at the bottom of the drained pool, her limbs twisted and splayed in unnatural angles.
The stillness of her form was suffocating, taunting me with the possibility that she may never wake up again, while knowing I had a part in it.
The steady beep of the heart monitor was the only sign of life after Sly and I had brought her in.
The relief I’d felt when she woke up was short-lived.
The moment Alex’s eyes fluttered open, I saw the recognition, the fear, and the anger.
She remembered everything.
“All of it?” Bishop repeats, his voice tinged with concern.
“Well, that complicates things.”
I turn to face him, my jaw clenched.
“Complicates things? That’s all you have to say? Her mother nearly killed her, Bishop. And we had a hand in it, for what?”
He holds up his hands in a placating gesture.
“Now, now, Sutton. Let’s not get carried away. We didn’t nearly kill her, remember?”
“We set up the entire thing,” I remind him with a hiss, keeping my voice low to avoid drawing attention from the other students and parents still milling about the courtyard.
Bishop glowered, his false jovial demeanor fading.
“That was necessary. You know what’s at stake here. We can’t afford to lose sight of the bigger picture.”
I clench my fists, fighting the urge to punch him.
“The bigger picture? You know that drop was at least twelve feet. Alex could have died. How is that justifiable?”
His gaze flickers briefly to the side, avoiding my eyes for a moment before he shifts his weight, his shoulders tightening.
“Because sometimes sacrifices must be made for the greater good,” Bishop replies, his voice cold and detached.
“You knew what you agreed to when we all vowed to get rid of her.”
I shake my head, disgust rising in my throat.
“I didn’t sign up for this. I agreed to make her want to leave Altair. Not potentially kill her.”
I tilted my chin toward him, noting the way his jaw had tightened at my words.
It was a small shift, but I could see it—the subtle, rare flicker of uncertainty that crossed his face before he quickly masked it with that usual, cold composure.
It was so unlike him.
“And what’s the plan now?” My voice softened, despite the sharpness of my words.
“She remembers everything. She knows we were involved. You’re lucky her father blamed her concussion for her wild words, but how long before others aren’t as quick to assume she’s wrong about what happened?”
Bishop’s lips pressed into a thin line, and his fingers twitched at his sides as if he was fighting to keep them still.
He was never this fidgety.
His response came quick, but there was something in the way he said it, like he was pushing the words out rather than choosing them.
“Did you handle it?”
I lean back, disgust twisting in my gut.
“I said what I needed to say to keep her quiet for now. I also made sure she’d be at the ceremony tomorrow.”
“Good, good.” His voice was tight, almost too tight.
“I can’t wait for Prescott’s father to see the disappointing score she’ll receive for her outburst at the pre-trial game.”
Bishop’s lips curled into a tight smile, but there was no humor in it, just a cold edge that didn’t quite match the tension in his shoulders.
He stood a little too still, too rigid.
“And what if she doesn’t get a disappointing score?” I pressed, my tone stronger now.
“What if Alex excels, despite everything she’s done?”
The words hung between us, heavier than they should have been.
His mouth tightened, a forced smirk flickering in and out.
“That’s not going to happen,” he muttered, his voice strained in a way that felt rehearsed.
I could feel my pulse quicken, the words hanging in the air like a fog I couldn’t quite push away.
I’d known Bishop for my entire life, but this version of him—the one looking at me with uncertainty in his eyes—was something unfamiliar.
There was something eating at him, something that didn’t line up with the cold, calculated way we had always approached our plan.
“You sure about that?” I pressed, unable to stop myself.
The guilt gnawing at my insides was making me sharp.
The pause that followed was thick.
I could see the subtle shift in his posture—how he exhaled too slowly, like he was holding something in.
“Positive,” he said, but the way his voice trembled just a fraction at the end made me doubt him.
My gut twisted with familiar guilt, but there was a deeper unease now—something heavier, more personal.
We’d done so many things in the name of family, in the name of our honor, but every new turn with Alex felt like a reminder of how far we’d gone.
How wrong it felt. How close it felt to unraveling.
It was like the threads of everything we’d built were starting to fray, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that soon, they’d snap.
The weight of our actions pressed down on me with a force I wasn’t ready to admit.
The thunderstorm had calmed down to a drizzle, but my guilt weighed heavier on me than the rain.
“Did you and Cam get her mother back to her facility?” I asked, trying to change the subject.
Bishop’s eyes flashed with annoyance.
“Of course we did. We’re not complete monsters, Sutton. Her mother is safely back in her room, everyone none the wiser, and enjoying a heavily medicated nap.”
I nodded, relief flooding through me.
At least this one element had been dealt with before Alex’s dad arrived at campus.
“Good,” I agree, even if I felt the complete opposite about everything else.
Bishop’s lips pull into something that almost resembles a smirk.
“Exactly. Now, about tomorrow’s dinner…”
A tight knot of unease coiled in my stomach.
“What about it? I already got you the paint you asked for.” I knew my role—apply some to her hands, then rub just enough off to make it look believable.
Even though Alex wasn’t likely to succeed at the ceremony, Bishop always liked having contingency plans in place.
It’s not surprising for someone who’s known him this long.
I mean, why else would he choose to sit with them instead of us at my brother’s swim meets?
“We need to make sure everything goes according to plan. No more surprises, no slip-ups,” he stated.
“You got everything in place, right?”
I nod, though a small part of me bristles at the thought of always following orders.
This is why I like art, I thought.
At least there, I could express myself however I wanted.
“Yes, Bishop. We’re all set.”
“Perfect,” he said, smiling.
“I knew I could count on you.”
I couldn’t help but think of Alex’s face at the hospital earlier—the hurt, the confusion, the betrayal in her eyes.
It was almost enough to make me want to call the whole thing off.
But I couldn’t. We’d come too far, sacrificed too much.
Plus, Bishop would never approve.
Even if I attempted to sabotage his plans, he would find a way to ultimately achieve his goal—ensuring that Alex Prescott left Altair.
I forced a smile, hoping it didn’t look as strained as it felt.
“Of course. We’re in this together, after all.”
“That we are,” Bishop responded, giving me a friendly pat on the shoulder before retrieving a cigarette from his blazer pocket and placing it between his lips.
“You know those things are going to kill your lungs, and then ultimately you one day,” I said, eyeing the cigarette with distaste.
He chuckled, lighting up despite my warning.
“We’ll all die someday. Might as well enjoy the ride.”
I watched as he took a long drag, the smoke curling around us in the damp air.
The acrid smell made my nose wrinkle, but I didn’t comment further.
There were bigger things to worry about than Bishop’s casual smoking habit.
As he exhaled, the smoke mixed with the cold evening air, and for a moment, he seemed distant—almost lost in his own thoughts.
The usual swagger in his stance was a little less pronounced, his shoulders a bit more slouched.
It was subtle, but it was there.
“You’re sure about all this, right?” I asked, my voice careful.
It was more a question about him, than about Alex.
His eyes flicked to mine, but he didn’t answer immediately.
He just took another drag, his fingers twitching slightly as he held the cigarette.
I could feel the tension hanging in the air, the crackling quiet, before he responded.
“Of course,” he finally muttered, his tone too fast, too rehearsed.
“It’s the only way forward.”
I studied him, watching how his jaw clenched for a moment, the flicker of uncertainty barely noticeable but unmistakable.
He’d been the one pushing for this.
He’d always been the one to make sure everything went according to plan.
But now? Now he seemed less certain.
“I just hope you’re right,” I said, trying to keep the edge of doubt from my voice.
Because, honestly, I wasn’t sure about anything anymore.
Bishop’s gaze darted away, focusing ahead, though I could tell he wasn’t really studying anything.
“I’m right,” he repeated, though his voice lacked its usual conviction.
“We’re doing what needs to be done.”
There was a hesitation, a slight tremor in the way he spoke.
I didn’t push him further.
But the cracks were there.
And even if he wasn’t ready to admit it, I could see them—small, but growing.
Maybe Bishop wasn’t as heartless as I’d thought—or maybe I was just trying to convince myself of something that was impossible when it came to him.
I pushed open the doors of the natatorium.
My watch had vibrated against my wrist while I was talking to Bishop earlier, so I headed over to our designated meeting spot as soon as I was free.
The familiar scent of chlorine filled my nose, a smell that used to not bother me, but now reminded me of what we had done to Alex.
Sly sliced through the water with powerful strokes, his limbs propelling him effortlessly across the pool.
I wondered if his stamina and speed were fueled by the stress of entertaining our parents on his own while I watched over Alex in the hospital, or perhaps it was the traumatic incident that had landed her there to begin with.
Most likely a combination of both, if I had to make an educated guess.
“How are mom and dad doing?” I called out as Sly reached the edge of the pool nearest to me.
He paused, treading water, and looked up at me with a mix of exhaustion and relief on his face.
“They’re fine. Concerned when you didn’t show up, of course, but I kept them busy by telling them all about your casual hookups and drunk escapades,” Sly said, his voice echoing in the empty space.
My eyes widened. “You did not!” Not that he had room to talk.
Of the two of us, he was the one with the real player reputation around campus.
He snickered. “Relax, sis. I’m kidding. I told them you had a last-minute study group for an upcoming exam. They bought it, no questions asked. Besides, they were just happy it wasn’t another one of your art things.”
I flinched, the sting of my parents’ disapproval hitting me hard.
The art thing . It was always the art thing.
The battle I couldn’t win.
They’d never understood it, and they still didn’t.
To them, it was just another phase, another impulsive pursuit they couldn’t support.
Sly didn’t even bother hiding his distaste, though it wasn’t like I expected him to.
“It’s not like you’re doing anything useful with that anyway,” he muttered, clearly annoyed by the mere thought of my art.
I wasn’t in the mood to bite back—not after what happened this morning.
Besides, I was used to his disapproval when it came to this.
It was the one thing he’d never had my back on.
“Thanks. I owe you one.”
“More than one, I’d say,” Sly replied, hoisting himself out of the pool.
Water cascaded off his muscular frame as he reached for a towel.
“So, how is she?” he asked, his voice suddenly serious.
I hesitated, glancing around the empty natatorium.
The silence was broken only by the gentle lapping of water against the pool’s edge.
“She’s…stable,” I finally said, my tone quiet.
“The doctors said it was only a mild concussion. She’ll recover, but…” I trail off, unable to finish the sentence.
Sly nodded, understanding the weight of what I left unsaid.
He ran the towel over his hair, his expression grave.
“And what about…you know… The other thing?”
I felt a chill run down my spine, despite the humid air.
“No one suspects anything. The doctors believe it was an accident, just like we told them.”
Sly’s shoulders visibly relaxed, but the tension didn’t leave his eyes.
“Good. That’s…good.”
I swallowed hard.
“But she remembers.”
That stopped him.
The towel froze halfway down his arm.
He didn’t speak, didn’t even look at me.
Just stood there, motionless, water dripping from his fingertips to the concrete floor in a slow, steady rhythm.
I couldn’t take the silence.
“So…about mom and dad,” I say, sinking into a seat, desperate for a distraction from the weight of everything else.
Our parents, Rupert and Madeline Oliveri, were never known for their displays of affection, but I knew deep down they cared for us.
I mean, they had to, right?
They were our parents.
It was just that they cared in their own way.
The way they showed love was wrapped up in high expectations, in keeping up appearances, in making sure we fit the image they’d created of a perfect family.
And maybe that was enough.
Maybe that was how it was supposed to be.
Our father, a Legacy, and our mother, ever the perfect socialite—together, they commanded respect.
And surely they loved us.
They had to, right?
Sly nodded, taking a seat beside me.
“They’re…well, they’re being themselves. Dad was on the phone for most of dinner, dealing with some crisis with shipping past the border. Mom was flitting around, complaining to the restaurant staff about her meal not being lean enough.”
I clucked my tongue, a mix of fondness and exasperation washing over me.
“Sounds about right. At least some things never change.”
Sly chuckled, but it was hollow.
“Yeah, well, maybe they could change. Not that I’d expect them to. But hey, if they ever did, I’d probably be worried, you know?” He gave me a sideways glance, half-smiling, but his eyes didn’t quite match the expression.
“I mean, they’ve always been this way. If they weren’t so…themselves, I’d probably think something was wrong.”
I watched him for a moment, wondering if he meant it.
The casualness in his tone didn’t quite mask the flicker of something else—a kind of quiet longing.
He was always so sure, so confident, always quick with a joke, but I could see the cracks forming.
Had the accident with Alex shaken him more than I realized?
“But you know,” he added, shrugging as he leaned back, “it could be worse, right? We could be from one of those families that doesn’t care at all. At least we know they’ll show up to dinner, even if they’re more interested in their phones than us.”
I didn’t answer right away.
His words hit a little too close to home.
Sly nudged me with his elbow, his smile more genuine now.
“But hey, at least we’ve got each other. Twins, remember? Doesn’t matter what they do, we’ve got each other.”
I gave a small smile back, appreciating the way he always managed to bring me back to something simpler, something more real.
“Yeah, we’ve got each other.” I looked at him, feeling the truth of it settle in.
“Always. We’re wombmates.”
“Wombmates for life,” Sly echoed, his voice mellowed.
He stood up, stretching his arms above his head.
“Speaking of which, mom and dad will be arriving back to campus early tomorrow. You know how eager they are to see our scores from the pre-trial and find out where we rank.”
I groan, running a hand through my hair.
“Don’t remind me. I’ve been dreading it all week.”
“Hey, we’ve got this,” Sly said, his tone reassuring.
“You got, what? Twenty-six flags?”
I nod, but can’t shake the knot of anxiety in my stomach.
The pre-trial was a crucial test for all students, but especially us Legacy students, determining our potential and ranking us against our peers.
Our parents’ expectations weighed heavily on both of us.
“But you ended up with thirty-four,” I remind him.
While it was a whole eight more than what I had, it paled in comparison to Bishop’s fifty-one.
Sly shrugged, trying to downplay his achievement.
“Numbers aren’t everything. You’ve got skills I could only dream of.”
I appreciated his attempt at comfort, but the pressure still gnawed at me.
“Maybe, but you know how mom and dad are. They’ll compare us, like always.” And Sly would come out on top, as usual.
His expression darkened.
“Yeah, I know. But hey, we’re in this together. No matter what happens with the rankings, we’ve got each other’s backs.”
My twin had always been the one constant in my life, the one thing I could rely on without fail.
Our parents were often preoccupied with their own lives, but we had each other and the other Legacies—that was all that mattered.
I nodded, feeling a surge of gratitude for my brother.
“You’re right. Thanks, Sly.”
He grinned, a familiar mischief lighting his eyes.
“Anytime. Now, speaking of having each other’s backs…” Without warning, he leapt into the pool, sending a massive wave of water crashing over me.
I sputtered, drenched in seconds.
“Can you grab my towel? I think I left it on the chair over there.”
I couldn’t help smiling as I walked over to retrieve it.
“You’re incorrigible, you know that?”
“Part of my charm,” Sly called, floating lazily on his back like he had all the time in the world.
“More like part of your ‘I’m-an-annoying-twin’ syndrome,” I shot back, tossing the towel with exaggerated flair right into the water.
“Hey! Not cool!” he protested, paddling to the edge of the pool like a grumpy seal.
The forgotten towel sinking slowly beneath the water.
I leaned back in the chair, perfectly content as I sprawled out.
“Consider it payback for soaking my shoes. Maybe if you didn’t splash me like a five-year-old, I wouldn’t have to go to such measures.”
“You know, this kind of attitude is the reason I’m the favorite.” He said it with a cocky grin, the kind that always seemed to get the girls on campus all hot and bothered.
I scoffed, eyes rolling.
“Oh please. As if you need to remind me. Mom and Dad make it painfully obvious every chance they get.”
For a split second, his playful expression faltered—just a flicker of guilt that disappeared as quickly as it came.
“Aw, come on. I was just joking. You know they love us both equally.”
“Yeah, right,” I mutter, looking away to hide the sting I couldn’t shake off.
The familiar ache of not quite measuring up settled deep in my chest. We both knew what ‘equally’ really meant.
Sly ran a hand through his damp hair, a small sigh escaping him as he shifted to a more serious tone.
“Look, I know things have been…a lot lately. With school, the Altair games, all that pressure. But you can’t let Mom and Dad’s expectations get under your skin. You’re better than that.”
“Easy for you to say,” I shoot back, crossing my arms. “You’re the one who always meets their expectations. You’re their golden child.”
Sly’s eyes narrow, and he pushes himself up onto the pool’s edge, running his fingers through his hair again.
“That’s not true, and you know it. Remember last year’s chemistry final? Mom didn’t speak to me for an entire week after she saw my grade.”
“Oh wow, a whole week,” I said, sarcasm dripping from my voice.
“Try living with their disappointment every single day.”
I saw his face fall, and immediately, regret hits me like a ton of bricks.
I shouldn’t have lashed out at him like that.
It was just that I was still so rattled by everything with Alex, and Bishop’s confusing indecision.
And now, with our parents here this weekend…
this was the weekend I dreaded most, but especially this year.
Altair had always been my escape, the one place where I felt free of their judgment.
The limited phone access kept them at a distance.
There was no way they’d sit down and handwrite a letter either.
What used to be my refuge now felt suffocating.
He reached out, squeezing my hand, but it did little to comfort me.
I felt that familiar ache in my chest—the knowledge that no matter how much Sly cared, I’d always be the one who didn’t measure up.
“Go on,” I said, forcing a smile that didn’t reach my eyes.
“Finish your laps. I know you’ve got that big swim meet coming up.”
Sly hesitated, his hand still on mine.
“Are you sure? We can talk more if you want.”
I dip my chin, encouraging him.
“I’m fine. Really. Go practice.”
He looks at me for a long moment, concern etched on his face.
Then he nods, standing up.
“Okay, but how about after I finish, we grab a late dinner at the dining hall?”
“Sure,” I agree, knowing if our mother found out, I wouldn’t hear the end of it.
But Sly’s puppy dog eyes were hard to resist, even when I was annoyed with him.
That charm is exactly why he always has multiple girls vying for his attention, which can be frustrating when I just want to have a conversation with him without any distractions.
Which is exactly why I got us these watches—so that we could meet up and talk without interruption.
As he dove back into the pool, I leaned back in the chair and closed my eyes.
Sometimes being a Legacy at Altair really fucking sucked.