Chapter Fifteen
Jayla
Bennett Originals smelled like smoke, wet plaster, and ruined dreams.
The fire department had saved the building, but water destroyed nearly everything the bullets missed. Shelves had collapsed. Paint stained the floor, and black soot covered Grandma Evelyn’s photograph.
I cleaned it carefully while Malachi’s people inspected the damage.
He stood in the center of my studio wearing a black coat and the expression of a man personally offended by every broken object.
“This wall needs to be removed,” he said.
“It needs repairing.”
“The bullets damaged the supports.”
“You own hotels. Since when are you a contractor?”
“I read the report.”
A man carrying a measuring device approached him.
“We can rebuild the front and reinforce the eastern wall. Six weeks minimum.”
“Three.”
“Mr. Devereaux—”
“Hire more people.”
I placed Grandma’s photograph on the table.
“Malachi.”
He looked at me.
“You can’t order my studio back together.”
“I can pay for it.”
“I didn’t ask you to.”
“It was destroyed because of my family.”
“It was attacked because of Kenzie and Bishop.”
“My family is Bishop.”
“Allegedly.”
“Lenora is a Devereaux.”
“That doesn’t make you responsible for everything she does.”
His face suggested he disagreed.
“Insurance won’t cover this,” I continued. “But I’ll rebuild.”
“With what money? Your accounts remain frozen.”
“You don’t have to sound so pleased.”
“I’m not pleased. I’m explaining reality.”
“I know my reality.”
“Then accept help.”
“I won’t become another woman whose entire life exists because you purchased it.”
He became quiet.
The workers wisely moved farther away.
“That is what you think I’m doing?”
“I think buying things is easier for you than asking what people need.”
“What do you need?”
The question stopped me.
I looked around the studio.
“I need a temporary place to finish my clients’ orders. I need the equipment replaced as a business loan, not a gift. And I need to remain the owner of everything.”
“Done.”
“You agreed too quickly.”
“You were specific.”
“I want paperwork.”
“Asha will prepare it.”
“No interest.”
“It’s a loan.”
“With no interest.”
“That isn’t a loan.”
“It is if you repay exactly what you borrow.”
He considered it.
“Fine.”
“And you don’t get creative control.”
“I have no interest in painting shoes.”
“You said you owned sneakers.”
“I do.”
“Name a brand.”
He looked toward Dorian.
Dorian pretended to examine the wall.
“Exactly,” I said.
Malachi’s mouth moved.
“You almost smiled.”
“No.”
“Your face keeps betraying you.”
Before he could deny it, the front door opened.
Berkeley James stepped around the damaged glass.
She was even more striking in person. Tall, brown-skinned, and dressed in a camel coat with her natural hair twisted into a low bun.
I had followed her work for years.
Now she carried a sealed envelope with my grandmother’s handwriting across the front.
“For Jayla,” she said.
My heart accelerated.
“How did you get that?”
“Evelyn mailed it to my attorney three years ago. The instructions said to deliver it if her archive was ever opened.”
Malachi moved closer but didn’t ask to see it.
Berkeley noticed.
“Your father struggled with boundaries too.”
“I’m not my father.”
“No. Sebastian would’ve already taken it.”
Malachi’s face hardened.
“Why did Evelyn trust you?”
“My mother worked with Lenora. They investigated the women disappearing through Devereaux ports.”
“Are you federal law enforcement?” I asked.
“No. I’m a journalist with sources inside agencies that still have a few honest people.”
“That answer was intentionally complicated.”
“Yes.”
She handed me the envelope.
Inside was a letter and a photograph.
Grandma Evelyn stood beside Nia and Lenora in front of a red door. All three women were young. Lenora’s hand rested on Grandma’s shoulder, and Nia held a sleeping baby.
Malachi.
I passed him the picture.
His fingers touched his mother’s face.
The letter was addressed to me.
My sweet Jayla,
If you are reading this, the truth has reached you despite everything I did to keep it away. I’m sorry. Secrets may protect children for a season, but eventually they become cages.
I sat down.
Malachi remained standing beside me.
Sebastian Devereaux used me. That is true. He also regretted it and spent the rest of his life trying to repair what he broke. Forgiveness did not require me to pretend the harm never happened. Remember that when people ask you to forgive them.
Kenzie’s face entered my mind.
Nia was my friend. Lenora was once my bravest ally. But pain changes people when they begin worshipping revenge. Lenora stopped wanting justice. She wanted everyone connected to Victor to suffer, including children who had committed no crime.
The archive contains enough evidence to destroy powerful people. It also contains names of victims who deserve privacy. Do not release everything. Power without mercy becomes another kind of evil.
I stopped reading.
Malachi crouched beside me.
“What else?”
I continued.
Jayla, you have always seen beauty inside broken things.
Malachi was once a frightened boy who believed controlling everything could prevent more loss.
Do not let him control you. But if he learns to stand beside you rather than in front of you, remind him that being loved is not another danger he must survive.
My eyes moved toward him.
He looked away first.
The final line was written separately.
The red door belongs to the women. Rochelle knows where it is. Trust her carefully, and trust Kenzie only after she sacrifices something she cannot replace.
Berkeley sat across from us.
“Lenora created Bishop after the original investigation failed. At first, Bishop exposed corrupt men. Then she started selling information and using the money to build a network.”
“Why work with Nia?” Malachi asked.
“Nia went to Lenora after your father’s death.”
“Why didn’t she take us?”
“She tried.”
His entire body became still.
“Victor obtained emergency custody by claiming your mother was mentally unstable. He threatened to kill all four of you if she returned.”
“She could have contacted me.”
“She did.”
“No.”
Berkeley removed a file from her bag.
“These are copies of letters she sent.”
Every envelope was addressed to Malachi.
Every one had been returned.
The signature authorizing the returns belonged to Victor Devereaux.
Malachi opened the first letter.
His hand began trembling.
I looked toward Berkeley.
“Give us a minute.”
She nodded and walked toward the front of the studio.
Malachi read three letters before stopping.
“I thought she abandoned us.”
“She may have believed staying away kept you alive.”
“That doesn’t excuse seventeen years.”
“No.”
“I needed her.”
“I know.”
“I raised her children.”
“I know.”
His breathing became uneven.
I moved my hand into the space between us.
“Do you want me to touch you?”
He stared at my palm.
“Yes.”
I took his hand.
He held mine tightly enough that I felt the effort it took not to grip harder.
“You don’t have to decide how you feel before seeing her,” I said.
“They’ll expect me to.”
“Who?”
“My siblings.”
“Then tell them you don’t know.”
“I’m supposed to know.”
“Says who?”
“Everyone.”
“I don’t.”
His eyes lifted to mine.
“I don’t expect you to have answers,” I continued. “I expect you to show up.”
“That’s all?”
“That’s a lot for some people.”
My mother came to mind.
Malachi looked at Grandma’s letter.
“She knew me.”
“She knew the boy you were.”
“She warned you not to let me control you.”
“She also said you could learn.”
“Do you believe that?”
“I haven’t decided.”
His thumb moved against my hand.
“What would convince you?”
“Stop deciding everything alone.”
“Anything easier?”
“No.”
He almost smiled again.
Berkeley returned.
“There’s something else you need to know before the board meeting.”
She placed a photograph on the table.
Julian stood beside Lenora outside the winter garden. The date stamp showed the picture had been taken three days earlier.
“He isn’t simply working with Bishop,” Berkeley said. “He promised Lenora control of Devereaux Maritime if she helps remove Crown.”
Malachi studied the photograph.
“And my mother’s shares give him the votes.”
“If Nia supports him.”
“Will she?”
Berkeley looked toward the returned letters.
“That depends on whether she came home for her children—or for revenge.”