Chapter 32 #2
“Don’t you dare hang up on me, Mother! Don’t you—” A wail emerges when the line cuts off. “Fuck you, Nate Archer.” Footsteps draw nearer. “Fuck you, and your—”
A dark chuckle erupts as a shadow falls over me. I lift my gaze to the landing above, locking eyes with the man I once considered a friend.
“Well, would you look at that! Nate motherfucking Archer. What a pleasure seeing you here. Would you like a tour of the place, or did you already get one when you barged in?” Carter mocks, his eyes red and smile wide. It drops the second he takes a swig from the whiskey bottle in his hand.
An alcoholic. That explains the mess downstairs.
“Actually, I wouldn’t mind a tour of the place.” I push off the wall with a foot to stand straight. “Very well kept. We could use some of your tips over at Archer Av—”
“Shut up!” Carter raises his free hand, eyes closed as if it pains him.
He tries making his way past me, but I’m quick enough to grasp his arm, forcing him to look at me.
“What do you want?” Carter snaps, nostrils flaring and canines flashing like an angry dog.
“I think you know what I want, Carter.”
Blue eyes roll to the back of his head—the movement extra slow from what I can only assume is the alcohol in his system. He wiggles his arm, trying to free himself from my grasp. I let go, letting him think he has the upper hand.
Drunk and unsteady, he tries making his way down the stairs, an arm stretched outward, and fingers dragging along the wall for support. But at the last step, he stumbles, knees meeting the floor hard.
I follow him, slow and deliberate as he shuffles to the only exit, and like a pathetic coward, he tries slamming the door right in my face. I step back in time to dodge it and slip out after him a few seconds later.
Like clockwork, Carter gets off the ground, hands raised in defense, the whiskey bottle somehow still intact. “What do you want from me, Nate?” he asks while walking backward. “Have you not done enough damage to my life?”
I huff in disbelief at the words he has the confidence to utter.
“I should be saying those things to you.” My steps are slow as I close the distance between us.
“You’re the one who stole from me—not once but twice.
Then you conveniently sent me an unreleased document detailing my involvement in the death of my fiancée’s parents.
For what reason, Carter? Please enlighten me. ”
Steam practically pours from Carter’s ears as he lets out a furious growl and charges toward me. Even when drunk, he’s stupidly fast—but not fast enough.
I sidestep at the last second, and he barrels straight into the wall behind, free-falling onto the metal trash can. The cover blows right over his nose, and by the sound of horror that leaves his lips and the blood that oozes out, he must have broken something.
I stand just above him, making a show of dusting my clean hands. “No need to do the dirty work when the universe is willing to do it for me. They do say karma is a bitch.” I nod, lips pursed, agreeing to my own words.
“Fuck you, Archer.” Carter groans, grasping his nose.
He scrambles backward on two elbows only to topple over again. I’m standing next to him when it happens, reveling in what I like to think is the sight of well-earned revenge.
“Would you just leave me alone?” The tears streaming down his face mingle with the blood. A crimson river forms across his cheeks, dripping to stain the snow below.
“I would, but unfortunately, I’m looking for answers.” I look down at my nails as though bored. “Now, would you please explain yourself. It’s nearing dinnertime.”
The man laughs again, though this time with far more hysteria than the last. “What do you want me to say, Nate? Do you want me to reminisce about our time at MIT together?” He steadies himself, daring to make eye contact with me.
“I wouldn’t be opposed to taking a walk down memory lane if it clears up my confusion.”
“Fuck you and your stupid comebacks.” He spits out blood.
“You always thought you were so damn witty. Mr. I-got-into-MIT on scholarship while I was there because my parents pulled strings.” He laughs, a broken sound, teeth stained red.
“Can you believe it? My parents donated a state-of-the-art building, and they still had to bribe the school to let me in!”
I still at the admission. Now that’s a new piece of information.
I knew Carter came from money—his parents are part of a long line of oil tycoons—but I always thought he got in on his own merit.
At least, he made it seem that way.
“What else do you want me to say, Nate? That I wasn’t good enough to graduate, so my parents had to bribe every professor to make me pass?”
It all makes sense now. Ego. Despite my reluctance, he always wanted to compare grades. And every time he saw that mine were better than his, I could feel the anger rise within him.
“What the fuck do you want me to say, Nate? That I so desperately wanted to be you that I stole your idea not once but twice because the measly little things you do in your spare time, I couldn’t come up with even if I hired the best aerospace engineers?”
The confession takes me aback, and I almost feel bad for the guy.
“What do you want me to say, Nate? That after the spark went off on your plane, I spent hundreds and thousands to plant headlines in the media and hire an ex-boyfriend so you could sink while I rose to the top.”
A stunned laugh bubbles up from him as he wipes his bloody nose on the back of his hand.
“And to think it was working until you came and ruined it!” he continues.
“I went to great lengths to hire the kid who set off that spark to steal your presentation, and somehow, you still made it work! Do you know how much it all hurt, Nate? I came from everything and built nothing of myself, while you came from less and became what I should have been.”
Envy. That’s where it all stemmed from.
But focusing on others’ actions never brought anyone closer to their own goals. Everyone had their own set of skills—things they were good at—and he was better off discovering what his were on his own rather than resorting to comparison.
The ironic thing is, Winston Wallace fell into that same boat.
“After everything that happened, I wanted the final say—especially after that goddamn standing ovation. So I found your new weakness. Ms. Vivienne fucking Brown.”
My fists clench tightly by my side, and my eyes narrow in his direction at the way he says her name.
“Imagine my surprise when I found out that you were responsible for killing the parents of the very woman you claimed to love. It was too good to be true—Nate Archer’s idea brought his fake fiancée’s parents to a quick and fiery death.
The news was buried, obviously, thanks to my parents, who thought I could rise above the ashes.
But look at me! Carter Crawford—the fuckup—now disowned by the only people who were supposed to love him.
Isn’t that just wonderful?” Bloodshot eyes lock onto mine, glassy with anguish.
My heart pinches for the guy.
I shouldn’t feel bad, given what he did, but I can see how his past shaped him.
His parents are successful; his last name is a legacy. Though the good guy in me wants to forgive him, put it in the past, and move on like none of it happened, that will depend on how he answers this next question.
“Why would you go to such lengths to pursue something you aren’t great at?”
Carter winces at the question, turning his head to the likes of an old hangar—one I hadn’t noticed before. The doors are wide open, and a single plane sits within, covered in a thin sheet of dust. Bold red paint is slashed over the black Crawford Aerospace logo.
“It’s not that I wasn’t good at it,” he speaks through a locked jaw. “I just didn’t work hard enough for it. I should have hired better people. Let you finish the project to completion before I stole it. Tore down your self-esteem a little more so you’d stick with me.”
And for the first time since I’ve gotten here, I laugh—so loud it knocks the air out of my lungs till I’m hunched over, holding onto my stomach.
Carter looks me up and down in disbelief. “This isn’t funny,” he says defensively.
I shake my hand in disagreement. “It’s a lot funny, Carter. You confess that you paid your way through university, admit you should have worked harder, and somehow, the blame for your fuckups is falling on everyone but you. People don’t get places in life without putting in the work.”
I want to go off on him a bit longer. Berate him for his stupidity and lack of acknowledgment for his own actions.
But it’ll never sink into his brain. From the moment he was born, everything was handed to him on a silver platter.
He's not used to hearing no. People like that don’t change overnight.
Plus, I accomplished the task I set out to do. I have the truth. There was no reason for me to stay here any longer.
With one last look in the eyes of the bloodied man, I walk back toward my car, the snow softly crunching in the eerie silence—until a shout halts me in my tracks.
“You may have gotten everything you wanted, Archer, but you still lost the girl.”
Heat flashes through me at the mention of Vivienne, and when I turn back to see the bloodied, joker-like smile on his face, I snap.
It might be true for the time being. She may never want me back after I’ve spent the last few days avoiding her calls and the knocks on my door. But I wasn’t going to let her or him get away that easily.
I march back to him, reveling in the satisfaction of watching my fist collide with his jaw. His face whiplashes in the other direction, and a couple of teeth knock right out of his gums.
I grab him by the collar and force him to look me dead in the eyes. Every word coming out of my mouth drips with venom. “Mark my words, Carter, I’m getting the girl back, and you’ll watch it all happen from behind bars.”
With that, I let him go, watching him fall back to the ground with a loud thud. He looks completely out of it, faded, and I make a mental note to call an ambulance after I leave.
“Oh, and apologies for the teeth. If you can’t afford the dental work, call me. I’ll cover it. My treat.”
On that note, I kick his leg for good luck, leaving this place with one girl and an even bigger goal in mind.