Chapter 65
Quill
Turning Point
Breaking Point
Ahmet Kenan Bilgic, Turgut Mavuk
He hadn't been in the hall. And when I had asked Lucas about him, he had just stared at me blankly before shrugging his shoulders.
Lara had given me a pleading look from the other side of the hall, where she was standing next to Monica, but I hadn't given it a chance to get through to me because she knew as well as I did that it wasn't right to leave that information up there in the attic.
Arnold Fitzek was a murderer. He had shot a child, the child's father, and his own wife. And the painful goose bumps on the back of my neck whispered to me that this wasn't the only crime he had committed.
I couldn't help but stare at the man in question, and everything inside me tensed up.
He was part of a small circle of old men chatting, and when he laughed at a joke someone must have made, a chill ran down my spine.
My father spotted me, and I was supposed to feel the same way about him. He had helped him cover up his crimes. He was an accomplice. But there was nothing except the usual emotional chaos whenever our eyes met.
With great effort, I tore my eyes away from him, certain that he would notice something was wrong if he observed me long enough, because he knew the frightened, panicked part of me better than anyone else.
As calmly as possible, I walked out of the hall, wondering where I should look for Troy, whether he had perhaps retreated to his private rooms, but decided to clear my head first.
Clutching my clutch bag tightly, I stepped through one of the open glass doorways into the dark night onto the huge balcony terrace that seemed to surround the estate.
Troy had grown up here, had had to live all these years under the murderous hand of a monster. And he still lived here. After everything that had happened to him. The fact that he was still alive was pure luck.
Without my father, he would be dead. And yet he hated him.
I would never have thought that I would get to know the dark side of this town. Only a handful of months had passed.
I caught myself wanting to thank my father inwardly, but resisted the urge in time.
This man could found an orphanage and save hundreds of children. None of that would wash away the marks he had left on me.
Someone was standing at the railing, smoking. A man with dark hair. Troy.
I Never Asked You
Atli ?rvarsson
Everything inside me stiffened and I stopped in the middle of the terrace.
All that horror lay almost thirty years in the past. Was it really wise to reopen old wounds? Especially when no one but me would benefit from it?
Arnold is a killer. Innocent people lost their lives because of him.
When I realized I was picking at my thumb, I forced myself to do the only thing I was good at.
“Troy.”
Immediately, he turned around, and I cautiously stepped closer under his watchful gaze.
He seemed different than usual. Absent-minded. As if he hadn’t expected me. Of course he hadn’t.
I caught myself staring at him, trying to see the little boy who had lost everything. Thanks to his father.
Both of us had lost our mothers because of our fathers' decisions. Both of us were unwanted. Who would have thought we could be so similar?
Except that what had happened to him was worlds worse than my ridiculous past.
I knew it wasn't constructive to compare traumatic experiences. That it only caused further damage to downplay what had happened to you just because others had had it subjectively worse. But I couldn't help feeling sorry for him and completely forgetting myself in the process.
“Oh, great,” he growled. That was the moment he seemed to slip back into his Troy mask, stubbed out his cigarette on the banister before turning to face me completely. “Did he set you on me? Are you supposed to talk sense into me?”
“What?”
Puzzled, I blinked at him, unsure what he could mean, but I could only imagine it had something to do with Davian.
“No… I…”
I froze on his glassy eyes.
Had he been crying?
Shit.
Troy broke out of his stupor and stepped past me, forcing me to turn around to stop him.
“Wait!” He didn't, so I finally gathered my courage. “I'm sorry.”
Troy stopped and turned to me with his passive-aggressive expression.
“What are you talking about?”
I stepped toward him, fighting the cowardly lump in my throat.
“I'm sorry for all the things your father did to you.” Two meters in front of him, I stopped. “All the things you had to witness...”
The panic that had already ambushed me in the attic when I had lowered the book after the last entry returned. Like a frightened animal, I now stared at Troy, ready not to miss any reaction.
And indeed, a storm seemed to be raging behind his eyes. One he hadn't seen coming and that was now tearing at his walls.
Suddenly, he clenched his hands into fists.
“If you think you know anything about me...”
“I found your diary.”
Something in his expression froze.
“What?”
His hands began to tremble noticeably and he clenched his fists even tighter until the moonlight exposed his white knuckles.
“Troy,” I began quickly, ready to use this open door in his mask to carefully reach him. “You don’t have to keep this to yourself. You can press charges against him. I can help you with that. If you…”
“You should never have entered this house!” he snapped at me, and I flinched. “You should never have entered this town!”
Shit.
This was not going at all as I had planned.
“I mean it. I want to help you.”
Desperation crept into my voice.
Troy didn't seem like himself. It was more as if his soul had just left his body.
“I don't need your help!” he growled at me, spun around, began to tear at his hair, before kicking a stone bench. “Fuck!”
“Troy…”
I wanted to walk toward him, but he spun back around, so I stopped a meter and a half in front of him.
“I am not Troy to you!”
I swallowed.
This was absolutely not how I had imagined this conversation would go.
What if he needed time?
Troy began pacing back and forth, muttering things I couldn't understand, before kicking a lantern, which only increased my feeling of helplessness.
I had made him vulnerable. And Troy hated being vulnerable. There was only one way to get on the same level as him. I had to make myself vulnerable too.
“I'm Joseph's daughter.”
It took two seconds for him to stop and raise his head, his gaze telling me he thought I had completely lost my mind.
“That's the only reason I'm at Maplecrest,” I hastily continued. “I'm going to ruin him. And with everything you've written down, I have one more reason to take away his future as director of Maplecrest Law.”
Now I was vulnerable, but I didn't care. Troy couldn't hurt me. He wasn’t the one who held me in his hands like a puppet on a string.
He... laughed.
With growing overwhelm, I swallowed.
Troy laughed. At first it was just a snort, then a dangerous flash flickered through his eyes, which were dripping with realization, and eventually he laughed like a madman.
“Now it all makes sense.” His voice sounded unstable, amused, hoarse. “You're not just letting your professor fuck you. You're also the daughter of his mentor.”
My eyes widened.
What had he just said?
“It’s not just Davian who’s using you.” He shook his head. “You’re using him to…”
He paused, staring through me as if lost in thought.
Beads of sweat glistened on his forehead.
I tried to process each of his words. But they didn't make sense. Davian and I had never... And even if we had... how would Troy know?
“God, you even look like him.” His focus returned. “Like Anthony...”
The madness was still in his voice.
“Who would have thought? An illegitimate daughter...” His eyes grew wider. “And no one knows you exist.”
Again, he shook his head.
“I knew it… I knew Joseph had some dirty laundry stashed away somewhere.”
When I noticed he seemed to be losing himself in the madness of his realization, I forced myself to continue, trying not to bring Davian into the conversation.
“We can get him kicked out of Maplecrest Law together. And your father too.”
Again, I stepped closer.
Troy’s amusement vanished instantly.
“No.”
I blinked.
“What?”
“He’s the rightful director of…”
“He shot your friend and your mother and disinherited you because you’re a Jew!”
A shadow fell across Troy's face and he stepped closer as well.
“I'm not a Jew!” he growled. “My father knew that. Otherwise, I'd be dead by now!”
He stopped a meter in front of me, glaring at me contemptuously.
“And you... If Joseph wins with Zachary, Davian will be his successor. And through Davian... eventually you.”
“I don't want to run this goddamn university,” I snorted. “Davian neither. But your father...”
“Is none of your business!”
His voice was quieter now. More threatening.
What was wrong with him? After everything his father had done... He wanted to cover for him until he died peacefully? Maybe even took more people's lives?
“Do it for Levi.”
That was the moment his expression froze.
I swallowed, my heart racing.
A glassy layer settled over his eyes far too quickly. And then it rolled down. A tear.
My heart caught in my chest.
For a moment, time stood still.
Then, far too quickly, his face turned into a battleground of bitterness.
“You should get out of here. Now.”
I had been so close. So close...
But now the old Troy was standing in front of me again. The one who would drag me to his father to win his favor.
And too late I realized that this part of Troy was too deeply rooted inside him for me to be able to remove it from him in one evening. I needed time. Time I didn't have.
“Or else?”
Unintentionally, challenge crept into my expression.
“There will be consequences.” Warning resonated in his gaze. “The matter is closed.”
“I’ll go to the police.”
I stepped back, frustrated, lowered the clutch bag I had been holding to my stomach, and walked past him, ready to expose this circus once and for all.
“You won't!”
Troy's hand wrapped around my wrist and he yanked me around so that I let out a startled gasp.
“You're leaving me no choice!” I pressed out, trying to break free, but his grip was too tight.
“Where is the diary?!”
For a moment, it was as if I was staring into my father's face. With all my strength, I fought against the onset of paralysis.
This is Troy.
“In a safe place.”
I tried to remain calm.
“Miss Veritas!” His voice resembled an uncontrolled growl. “Where?!”
Successfully, I broke free and spun around to disappear. But a hand wrapped around my other arm and he yanked me back.
“No,” he blurted out and shook his head. “No!”
I wanted to protest, to break free again, but this time his other hand landed on my throat.
“You're not going to the police. Do you understand?”
I tried to hit his chest, fighting back tears of panic as his grip tightened.
“Troy...” I choked out his name, hitting his chest desperately. “I can't breathe...”
He shoved me away and I stumbled backwards, staring at the man in front of me in the cold moonlight.
This wasn't the Troy I knew. This one was desperate. Unpredictable.
He pulled something out of his pocket, clicked it, and a blade flashed in the moonlight.
A hunting knife.
I Will Shoot You
Mr. Kamera
What the...
“You leave me no other choice.”
My eyes widened and I staggered back even further.
“Troy...”
I raised my hand, but he continued to step toward me, cautiously, gripping the knife tightly.
“Your mistake was coming to find me in a place where no one would look if you were suddenly missing.”
The mania in his voice put my entire body on high alert.
“Put the knife away and let's talk.”
There was no change in his expression. None.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
I slipped out of my shoes onto the icy patio pavement, ready to run.
A mistake.
Troy noticed it in the same second and lunged at me.
I dodged him, but so barely and quickly, and with one foot still in one of my shoes, that I twisted my ankle and stumbled backwards down the three steps from the terrace, only to land on the cold, sharp gravel.
Groaning from the pain in my shoulders, I pushed myself up on my elbows and looked at Troy, who was slowly walking down the steps.
“You're not my first,” he chuckled quietly. “Or did you really think I wouldn't, at some point, prove to my father that I'm his son?”
Staring at him in disbelief, I hauled myself back on my elbows.
He couldn't...
His almost predatory grin spoke volumes.
With my heart pounding uncontrollably, I stared at the man in front of me.
My hope had brought me here. Straight to my certain death.
He was going to kill me.
I didn't know which part of my paralyzed brain it was that made me tighten my grip around the clutch in my right hand, but it awakened my last survival instinct.
Frantically and with trembling hands, I fumbled with the bag, wrapped my sweaty fingers around the metal, and pulled out the gun.
Troy stopped, and I used the moment to unlock the safety and raise it.
His grin was gone.
Now he gripped the knife more tightly.
“Not a step...”
Crouching, Troy lunged forward much too quickly.
My hand reacted on its own.
Sudden pressure jabbed sharply against my palm, shooting from my wrist to my elbow, and a bang tore through the air, making me flinch with a startled sound.
My arm tensed painfully.
Something inside me froze when Troy's eyes widened. But he didn't stop, instead lunging directly at me.
I waited for the blade, but it never found its way into my flesh.
Troy lay on top of me. Motionless.
A beeping sound penetrated my right ear as my body tried to force me into a state of paralysis, but I fought against it.
I pushed Troy away, my weakening limbs struggling under the weight of his body, and clawed at the weapon with my hand cramped.
I kept crawling back, further and further, staring at Troy's motionless body.
His face lay turned toward me. His eyes wide open. Empty. Lifeless.
Fluid spurted from his neck.
Again.
And again.
And again...
Wouldn't stop...
The same fluid that was splattered all over my dress.