CHAPTER FIVE #2
How had everything gone so catastrophically wrong?
He had trusted Kennedy. They had grown up together.
She was Spencer’s sister, a fixture of his childhood, a woman he had known for his entire life.
He knew she had harbored complicated feelings for him, but he had never, in his wildest nightmares, believed she was capable of something so sinister.
To drug him? To corner him when he was out of his mind and sabotage his relationship with Olivia?
Olivia.
Grayson squeezed his eyes shut, a jagged breath tearing through his teeth.
How was he supposed to look at her? How was he supposed to hold her, knowing what his hands had done only hours prior?
The anger swelled in his chest, a venomous tide directed at Kennedy Lockhart.
She had taken his control. She had taken his honor.
***
Less than a mile away, the atmosphere inside the private family sitting room of the Lockhart estate was laced with a different kind of tension.
The room was bathed in warm morning light, illuminating the priceless tapestries and the mahogany furniture.
Margaret and John Lockhart sat on the velvet settee, their coffee untouched on the silver tray before them.
When Kennedy finally walked into the room, flanked by a fiercely protective Spencer, both parents stopped breathing for a fraction of a second.
Margaret and John were formidable people.
They commanded boardrooms and navigated global politics with effortless grace.
But looking at their daughter, they were simply terrified parents.
Kennedy looked like a ghost. She was dressed in an oversized cashmere sweater and plain leggings, her hair pulled back into a messy knot.
Her face was devoid of color, her hazel eyes hollowed out, carrying a weight that looked too heavy for her frame to bear.
Margaret stood up immediately, her maternal instincts overriding any sense of aristocratic decorum. "Kennedy, darling. What’s wrong?"
Kennedy couldn't look at them. She sank into the nearest armchair, pulling her knees to her chest, wrapping her arms around her legs as though trying to hold herself together.
"Whatever it is," Margaret said softly, crossing the room and kneeling beside her daughter’s chair. She reached out, placing a warm, steadying hand on Kennedy’s knee.
"Whatever you have done, we are here. I don't care what it is, Kennedy.
If you committed murder last night, your father and I will help you hide the body.
Do you understand me? You are not alone. "
"Your mother is right," John added, his voice a deep, immovable mountain of support. He moved to stand behind Margaret, resting a hand on her shoulder, his eyes locked on his daughter. "You are our child. Whatever happened, you are in our corner. Speak to us."
The unconditional love in their voices was the final blow to Kennedy’s defenses. She broke down, the tears spilling silently over her pale cheeks, and for the second time in twelve hours, she confessed.
She told her parents exactly what she had told Spencer.
She spared no details, and she offered no excuses for herself.
She told them about the drug, about the unbearable heat, about the study, and about the kiss.
She told them what Grayson had accused her of, and how she had sat on the floor, too ashamed to defend herself.
Margaret listened in complete silence, her elegant face hardening into a mask of pure, protective stone. John’s jaw clenched so tightly it looked as though it might snap, his eyes darkening with paternal fury.
When Kennedy finally finished, Spencer leaned against the fireplace mantel, his arms crossed over his chest, his analytical mind working furiously.
"Kennedy, I need you to think carefully," Spencer said, his tone objective, cutting through the emotional fog in the room. "You said you drank a glass of champagne from a waiter’s tray. And almost immediately, you felt dizzy. Disoriented. Hot."
Kennedy nodded weakly, wiping a tear from her cheek. "Yes. I couldn't see straight."
"And you said Grayson was experiencing the exact same things when you found him in the study," Spencer continued, pacing slowly across the Persian rug. "He was sweating. He was out of control. He told you he felt the drug."
"He thinks I gave it to him," Kennedy whispered, fresh shame washing over her.
"He’s an idiot," Spencer stated flatly. He looked at his parents. "Look at the sequence of events. Kennedy didn't take anything willingly. If she and Grayson both experienced the same sudden, aggressive symptoms, then they were both dosed with the same chemical. Someone deliberately drugged them."
Margaret stood up, smoothing the front of her trousers, her eyes flashing with a terrifying, calculated intelligence.
"The first thing we need to do is get proof. John, call Dr. Aris. I want him here within the hour. I want Kennedy’s blood drawn and tested for every chemical enhancement on the market. "
"I’ll call him now," John agreed instantly, pulling his phone from his pocket and stepping out of the room.
Kennedy shook her head, pulling her legs tighter against her chest. "It doesn't matter if they find something. It doesn't change what I did. I was in there, Mom. I kissed him. I took advantage of him when he was helpless. I should have stopped it."
"Stop it," Margaret commanded, her voice cracking like a whip. It wasn't harsh, but it was absolutely unyielding. She moved back to Kennedy, gripping her daughter’s chin and forcing Kennedy to look her in the eye. "You will stop drowning in this guilt right now, Kennedy."
"Mom, I—"
"I said stop," Margaret repeated, her voice softening just a fraction, laced with a fierce, unwavering love.
"Listen to me very carefully. Nobody took advantage of anybody in the ordinary sense.
You were both poisoned. Your judgment, your inhibitions, your capacity to reason—they were chemically stripped from you.
That matters, Kennedy. Whoever put that drug in those glasses is responsible for creating this situation. "
"But I didn't fight it," Kennedy sobbed, the guilt refusing to let her go.
"You made a mistake," Margaret said firmly.
"A terrible, tragic mistake. And it will have consequences that we cannot take back.
But you are not an irredeemable sinner. You apologized to him.
If Grayson is too blinded by his own anger and confusion to hear that apology right now, then that is his right.
He has his own guilt to work through. But I will be damned if I let you sit in my house and treat yourself as though you calculated this destruction. "
John walked back into the room, slipping his phone into his pocket.
"Dr. Aris is on his way. He’s bringing the kits.
" He walked over to the armchair, kneeling on the other side of Kennedy.
He wrapped his large, calloused hands over hers.
"We have a crisis, Kennedy. Something horrible happened.
But we are Lockharts. We do not panic, and we do not shatter. We deal with it, one step at a time."
Kennedy looked from her father’s steady eyes to her mother’s fierce expression, and finally up to Spencer, who was watching her with unwavering support.
She was still terrified. The shame was still burning in her chest, and the thought of facing Grayson again made her feel physically ill.
But sitting in the sunlit room, surrounded by the unshakeable fortress of her family, the suffocating darkness finally began to recede.
She had made a catastrophic mistake, but she was not alone.
And for the first time since the night began, Kennedy took a deep, steadying breath, and allowed herself to believe that she might actually survive it.