Chapter 58
A fter the shitstorm that was dealing with Jen—the bitch biting off her own tongue to avoid talking, followed by Ciaran killing her in a blind rage—the last thing any of us wants to do is face whatever Brennan and Matt have dug up.
But here we are.
“I still can’t believe she’d rather die than talk,” Declan mutters, shaking his head like he still hasn’t quite processed it. If it wasn’t so fucking frustrating, it would be impressive.
“I can’t believe five grown men got played by one lying little woman,” I spit. “If word gets out…” I don’t even finish the thought. The shame would outlive all of us.
Dec snorts. Jack glances at his watch, clearly over this entire ordeal.
“Got somewhere better to be?” I snap, irritated by his indifference.
“Yeah,” he shoots back with a wink, “between my wife’s thighs.”
I roll my eyes, but it’s barely enough to lift the tension weighing on us all.
“Enough. Where the fuck is Bren?” Ciaran growls. He’s been a powder keg since he stumbled out of the lift—edgy, sharp, ready to blow at the smallest spark. He’s testing every last bit of my patience, and going by the way Dec is grinding his teeth, I’m not the only one.
“Christ. For the fifth time, he’s on his way,” Jack mutters before the lift finally dings open, spitting out Brennan, Seamus, and Matt.
The three of them look wrecked. Matt in particular—he all but folds into the nearest chair beside his dad, face drawn and pale. Looking at father and son, it’s hard to say who looks worse.
“Nice of you to join us,” Jack snarks.
Brennan just rolls his eyes while Seamus beelines for the vodka, pouring a shot like it’s water.
“Some of us were flying back from Belfast at the ass-crack of dawn,” Bren says.
“Belfast? Why the fuck were you over there again?” Ciaran grumbles, looking somewhat alive for the first time all morning.
“Gathering evidence.” His voice is rough, and when he drags his hands through his hair, I notice the tremor in them. Whatever they found, it’s bad.
Brennan hands me a few sheets of paper—printed emails, records, things I’d hoped we’d never see. I scan them. Once. Twice. A third time, hoping they’ll change. They don’t.
“You’re shitting me.”
“Wish I was,” Bren sighs, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “She knew, Johnny. There’s no way she didn’t know what Jen was involved in. And even if that didn’t seal her fate, this will.”
“Christ,” I mutter, reading the email from Jen to Benedict.
This isn’t just messy. This is a nuclear-level fuck-up. I pass the pages to Declan, watching as his jaw tightens while he reads. No matter how we spin this—no matter what we do someone is going to be left feeling hurt and betrayed.
“Tell me we at least have a body to bury,” I mutter. Declan curses under his breath. The rest of the room goes still. I look to Brennan. He shakes his head .
“Fuck.”
“You have to be joking ,” Cora snaps. “No. No way. This is Lily we’re talking about!”
The fire in her voice doesn’t surprise me. If anything, it hurts more. Because I know what I’m about to do is going to feel like betrayal. But what choice do I have?
“I know it’s hard,” Helen says gently, stepping in to try and soften the blow. “But I’m sure your dad has a plan. He wouldn’t do this without one.”
Right. A plan .
“You said it yourself,” I tell Cora. “Before the wedding. She wanted to study abroad. She wanted to go—”
“Don’t,” Cora cuts in, her voice trembling. “Don’t twist that into something it’s not.”
I sigh and scrub a hand over my face. “Listen. There’s solid evidence she knew , Cora. That she kept quiet. And there’s the birth certificate—Benedict listed as her father.”
She flinches like I hit her.
“So we just cut her off? Exile her?” she whispers.
“It’s the best option we have,” I say. “She’s safe. She’s getting what she wanted, and this buys us time. Enough time to find the truth. But she can’t stay here. Not with the men whispering, not with Matt ready to explode, and definitely not with Ciaran seeing red every time her name comes up.”
I watch my daughter fight to keep herself together. Her jaw trembles, but she refuses to let the tears fall.
“When it comes out she was innocent…” she whispers, voice breaking.
“If she is,” I say softly, “we’ll make it right.”
I cross the room and kneel in front of her, resting my hand gently over hers. “I promise you—I will find who’s behind this. And when I do, they won’t walk away.”
Across the room, Helen nods. Her eyes meet mine, and the fire burning behind them is the same one that’s been driving me for weeks now.
We’re hunting this truth together.
And we won’t stop until we drag it into the light—no matter how many heads we have to cut off to do it.