Chapter 8 Peyton #4
I scan the area for Peyton, find her near the windows with Helena. The Frost Society matriarch has her arm around Peyton's shoulders and is speaking quietly, intently. Protecting her. Good. If she doesn’t trust me, at least there’s someone she can lean on.
Talia appears at my elbow. "What happened? Why is Peyton over there, and you are over here?”
"Edmund told her something about me that she’s pissed about.”
“What?”
“I met her mother.”
“You what?”
“Before I left town, I met Lila. She came to me for help regarding this Kingsley shit, and I turned her away."
"Jesus, Blake." Talia's voice is pained. “Have you fucked her?”
“Yes,” I exhale harshly.
“When the hell were you going to tell her about her mother, Blake? After you got her pregnant?” she scolds.
"I was going to tell her. Eventually. I just didn't know how. Didn't know when." I run a hand through my hair. "And now she hates me. And I can’t blame her. I deserve it."
"What you deserve is irrelevant. What matters is keeping her alive." Talia's pragmatic, always has been. "Silas is here, somewhere in this estate, and the fact that he’s not walking around, politicking, is a red flag."
“How do you know he’s here?” I don’t see him or any of his flunkees.
“Because Luca’s here.”
Our little brother.
Shit.
Talia notices my face drop. I hate that my brother could be part of an off-the-rails plan that Silas thinks he can actually pull off.
“Okay, plan adjustment,” Talia says. “You protect her from a distance." Talia's jaw sets. “I’ll find Silas or corner Lucas, and we’ll stop whatever he's planning. That way, we keep Peyton alive whether she wants our help or not."
"Where's Nico?" I ask.
"Haven't seen him.”
“Which either means he's avoiding us because he knows the setup failed, or he's wherever Silas needs him to be."
“Or he gave us the intel and got out of dodge because he doesn’t want to be part of it like he said.”
“Wishful thinking, T.”
My phone buzzes. Unknown number.
Unknown: Second floor. East wing. Come alone. We need to talk. - Silas
I show Talia.
“Nope,” she says immediately.
"I need to know what he's planning. Need to buy time for Helena to get Peyton out of here."
“We don’t even know if Silas is actually planning anything.”
“That’s what I’m going to find out, and based on this text, I’m sure he’s dying to tell me. Stay with Peyton. Text if you need me. That's all that matters now."
“Be careful.”
I head for the east wing, toward whatever trap Silas has waiting, and hope that this time, I can talk him out of a scheme that will destroy the Delano name forever.
Chapter Thirteen (revised)
PEYTON
I can't breathe.
The ballroom is too hot, too crowded, too full of people who look at me like I'm a curiosity instead of a person. Helena's talking—something about security protocols, about getting me out of here safely, about how her organization will protect me now that Blake's proven himself untrustworthy.
Yeah, I didn’t have to tell her. She could tell by the look on my face.
But I can't process any of it. Can't think past the roaring in my ears, the way my chest feels like it's caving in, the absolute certainty that everything I thought I knew was a lie.
Blake knew my mother.
My mother asked him for help.
He sent her away to die.
And he wasn’t ever going to tell me.
"Peyton." Helena's voice cuts through the noise. "Are you listening? Now that Edmund knows where you stand, we need to move you somewhere secure."
"I need a minute.” The words come out strangled as I start moving toward my destination. "I need some air."
"The terrace is too exposed—"
"I don't care." I'm already moving toward the doors, toward the cold, toward anything that isn't this suffocating room full of lies and dangerous men. "I need out. Now."
Helena follows, along with two portly women I vaguely recognize as members of the Frost Society. They flank me as I push through the terrace doors into winter that hits like a slap.
The cold helps. Clears my head enough to think, to process, to start putting together pieces that should have been obvious from the beginning.
Blake's guilt. His desperate need to protect me. The way he looked at me sometimes like he was seeing a ghost.
He wasn't protecting me because he cared. He was protecting me because he owed my mother a debt he could never repay.
"Peyton." Helena's beside me now, coat draped over my shoulders. "Talk to me. What exactly did Edmund tell you about Mr. Delano?”
"The truth. Finally." I grip the railing, knuckles white. "Blake knew my mother. She came to him for help three years ago, and he turned her away."
Helena's quiet for a moment, processing. "Did he tell you why?"
"Does it matter? She asked for help, and he refused. Three months later, she was dead." Tears are freezing on my cheeks. I don't bother wiping them away. "He's been lying to me since the moment we met.”
"Men like Blake carry their failures like anchors," Helena says quietly. "They let past mistakes define their present choices. It doesn't excuse the lie, but it might explain it."
"I don't want explanations. I want—" What do I want? My mother back? The last week erased? To never have met Blake Delano and fallen for a man who would have lied to me for fucking ever?
"You want justice," Helena finishes. "For your mother. For yourself. For every woman this town has crushed under the weight of the ruthless men in this town.”
"Yes."
"Then we give it to you." Helena turns me to face her, and her eyes are fierce, determined. "Edmund made you an offer to sign away your power in exchange for safety. But there's a third option he didn't mention."
"Which is?"
"You activate your inheritance claim. Tonight. Right now. In front of every witness in that ballroom. You become a Kingsley publicly, legally, irrevocably. And then you use that power to destroy everyone who hurt your mother—Edmund, Silas, the entire corrupt system they've built."
"Edmund basically said he'd kill me if I don't accept his offer.”
“Image means everything to the Kingsleys, and it's harder to kill a public figure than a private one. You’ve already set things in motion in the courts, but once you tell all of Wintervale, you’ll be officially recognized, and you’ll become exponentially more complicated to eliminate.
" Helena's smile is sharp. “My organization will stand with you.
We have resources, connections, and decades of documentation on Kingsley and Delano crimes. Together, we can burn them all down."
I cock my head to the side and look at Helena through clear eyes instead of heartbroken ones. “Why?" I ask. "Why do you care? I’m not giving you my votes or my money. So, what's in it for you?”
“I’ve explained this. We want balance and reform to Wintervale's power structure, and out from underneath male dominance.
" Helena doesn't lie about her motivations, at least. "But also justice.
Your mother came to us once, years ago, and we turned her away.
I thought the risk was too high and the evidence too thin.
I was wrong. And have regretted it ever since. "
So everyone failed her. Blake, Helena, my father, even me—too naive and in my own immature feelings to realize my mother was fighting a war until it was too late.
"What do I have to do?" I ask.
"Come inside. Make a statement. Claim your inheritance in front of the board members who are here tonight.
Force Edmund to acknowledge you publicly.
" Helena's voice drops. "And trust me. I know that's difficult after Blake's betrayal but my organization has learned from our mistaske. We won't fail you the way he did."
It's a calculated pitch. Using my pain against Blake to bind me closer to her. I recognize the manipulation, even as part of me wants to surrender to it and accept it.
Because what's the alternative? Run? Let Edmund and Silas win because the man I was falling for turned out to be a liar?
"Okay," I say. "I'll do it."
"Good." Helena pulls out her phone, types rapidly. "I'm alerting our people. The board members will be gathered, and witnesses positioned. You'll make your statement in…” She checks her watch. “Fifteen minutes. That gives you time to compose yourself."
"I don't need time. I need to do this before I lose my nerve."
"Then we do it now." Helena guides me back toward the ballroom, her team flanking us. "Remember, you're not just claiming an inheritance. You're claiming the power stolen from your grandmother and your mother. Act like it."
We enter the ballroom, and I feel the shift immediately. People turning, whispers spreading, the attention of five hundred guests focusing on me like a spotlight.
Helena leads me to a raised platform where the string quartet has been playing classical Christmas tunes. She speaks to a violinist, who nods and signals to his musicians to stop.
The music cuts off. Conversations die. Everyone's watching now.
Helena takes the microphone. "Ladies and gentlemen, I hope you’re enjoying yourself on this beautiful Christmas Eve, but if I could have your attention for a moment. Miss Peyton Quinn has an announcement to make. Let’s give her our attention.”
Helena hands me the microphone.
I look out at the crowd at the Kingsley board members scattered throughout, at the politicians and power brokers, at Edmund standing near the back with an expression that promises retribution.
I look for Blake but only find Talia, near the east wing entrance, with an unreadable look on her face.
I clear my throat, and my voice carries across the suddenly silent ballroom.
"My name is Peyton Quinn. Some of you know me as Senator Richard Quinn's daughter, but tonight, I'm here to claim a different legacy.
" I pause, let that settle. "Three years ago, my mother, Lila Quinn, was murdered.
The official ruling was mechanical failure in a tragic car accident.
It wasn't. She was killed because she discovered something this town's founding families wanted buried. "