Chapter 3

Wesley's POV

I turned around and looked straight at Trent.

He was leaning against the pool table and had his head tilted slightly as he watched me. That familiar smirk of his played at the corners of his mouth.

I'd seen that smile too many times. Every time Lindsay and I got into a fight or an argument, or every time we were on the brink of breaking up, he'd wear that exact expression.

With an airy, "Doesn't he do this every time?", he reduced all my hurt and resentment to nothing more than farcical entertainment.

Our eyes met across the room.

He didn't look away. If anything, he lifted his chin slightly, carrying himself with the effortless arrogance of someone who'd been spoiled and adored his entire life.

Lindsay shifted sideways, putting herself half a step in front of him. Without saying a single word, she made it crystal clear who she actually cared about.

The smirk on Trent's lips deepened.

I smiled, too.

He thought he'd won. But what he didn't realize was that my feelings for Lindsay had disappeared on a lonely night many moons ago, swallowed down alongside a handful of sleeping pills.

…

The next morning, a news article blew up the front page of Upper Eastborough's financial news.

"Anonymous Confession Exposes Morasca Conglomerate's Dark History: 30 Years of Blood Money and the Families Destroyed Along the Way".

The confession, written in letter form, listed numerous families who had been destroyed by the Morasca family, including the Johnson family.

It also claimed that the Johnson family's only son, "Wesley Johnson", was then forced into the shadier corners of the city as a result.

After that, however, when people tried to find out what had become of this "Wesley", there was no trace of him anywhere.

…

When this article was going viral, I happened to be at the cemetery, visiting my parents. I ran my fingertips over the photographs I'd embedded in their gravestones.

Mom was wearing a lab coat that had faded from too many washes, while Dad was in a dark navy suit.

They stood side by side, smiling softly at the camera.

In their smiles was the earnest intensity of researchers, mixed with a naive idealism rare for people their age.

"Mom, Dad."

I set down the white tulips. Morning dew still clung to the petals.

Ten years ago today, the weather had been just as cold and damp as it was right now. But back then, all I could do was stand there and watch helplessly as a fire took them from me.

Three days after that, debt collectors came knocking. From their vile, foul-mouthed rants, I managed to piece together the truth.

The company's core data had been stolen, and huge sums of money had gone missing. Then, on the very night before the board was about to jointly impeach him, Dad died in an accident.

At 19 years old, I tried to shoulder Johnson Pharmaceuticals, the company my parents had poured their lives into. I held on for eight months, but ultimately, I failed.

After that came the offloading of the debts, and I was sold along with them for a decent price.

The day I met Lindsay was the most helpless I'd ever felt in my entire life.

I looked at the photograph and smiled.

"You guys always taught me to be loyal and never to forget a kindness. She pulled me out of hell, so for the past ten years, I've repaid her with my youth, my life, my dignity, and my heart. My conscience is clear."

The cypress trees lining the mountain path rustled in the wind, sounding almost like a response.

I got up and slowly made my way down the steps. My phone vibrated again and again in my pocket with texts from Eddie.

"Wesley! Check the news!"

"Fuck the Morasca family! Trent's parents killed yours, and he's also getting in between you and Lindsay? Is everyone in that family insane?"

I stopped halfway down the stairs and read the whole article.

A lot of the details mentioned in the letter matched what I remembered from before my parents died, which let me firmly know that the allegations weren't baseless.

My mind was a chaotic blur as I stumbled down the rest of the steps.

Near the bottom, I saw a tall, elegant figure standing beneath a streetlamp.

Lindsay's face gradually sharpened into focus through the light and shadows, and I saw that she was on a phone call.

"...Get the Morasca family story taken down. Trent? What his parents did has nothing to do with him. Yes, I want to protect him…"

Catching sight of me, she hung up and walked over.

"You saw the news, right? The Morasca family scandal has blown up. People online are hurling accusations at him left and right, and he's in terrible shape right now," she said, her gaze completely unflinching.

"So I want you to come forward and clarify that the Johnson family's bankruptcy had nothing to do with the Morascas, and it was entirely due to your father's poor management."

As the wind swept down the mountain pass, I felt every drop of blood in my body turn cold.