Chapter 6

Wesley's POV

Soon, everyone left. It took less than ten minutes for the conference room to go from deafeningly noisy to completely silent.

The harsh white lights illuminated me and the flash drive in my hand—the flash drive that felt ever so light.

Then, out of nowhere, came a burst of applause, followed by the heavy thud of leather shoes on the marble floor.

Trent walked in through the side door, completely unhurried.

"You really are your parents' son. Even that stubborn streak of yours is exactly like theirs. You all refuse to give up until you hit rock bottom."

He looked down and studied his nails. "Honestly, when you announced the press conference, Lindsay asked me if I wanted to stop you. It would've only taken one phone call.

"But after I gave it some thought, I decided that giving you hope, then crushing it with my own hands, would be much more satisfying."

He looked up. His smile deepened, but his words were downright cruel. "Oh, by the way, right before your parents died, they were begging me not to hurt you."

The last thread of my sanity snapped. I raised my fist and swung it with all the force I had, but someone caught my wrist midair.

The grip was brutally strong, the fingers digging into my bones.

It was one of Lindsay's bodyguards.

"Are you out of your mind?" Lindsay snapped, her brows furrowed in sharp disapproval.

"Am I out of my mind?" My voice cracked with rage, shrill enough that even I barely recognized it myself. "Do you even know what the Morascas—"

But before I could finish, Trent narrowed his eyes, looking thoroughly amused. "You think she doesn't know?"

There was undisguised pity in his eyes as he continued calmly, "She's known everything from the very beginning.

"When she saved you back then, it was only because she planned to use you as the fall guy in case everything came to light. You only had the chance to be with her because of me. Otherwise, you'd still be suffering in that cesspool.

"Do you understand now? You were never the exception. You were just a pawn."

Even though our relationship was already over, I still couldn't bring myself to believe that, from the very beginning, she was only with me for Trent.

I turned toward Lindsay stiffly.

But her face was completely devoid of emotion. She didn't even bother looking away.

"Lindsay," I heard myself say, my voice broken and uneven. "You've known all along that the Morasca family killed my parents?"

After a long silence, she finally answered.

"Yes."

That single word hit me like a sledgehammer, shattering whatever lingering warmth was left in my chest.

So, that was the truth.

The ten years we'd spent by each other's side had been nothing more than a calculated move.

The sincerity I'd treasured above everything else had only ever been a bargaining chip in her hands, something she used to keep me in check.

Looking at her now, she suddenly felt like a total stranger. Even hating her felt like a waste of energy.

I peeled the bodyguard's fingers off me one by one. Then, without sparing another glance at any of them, I walked out of the hall.

…

Before my flight took off, Eddie came to see me off.

"The story about your parents has been taken down," he said after a moment of silence. "Lindsay had her people do it."

I didn't know why she'd done it. Maybe she wanted to keep the narrative contained to something she could control, or maybe it was her way of giving me a carrot after giving me the stick, so I'd turn around and go back to her.

Or maybe she did it for Trent.

Whatever it was, it didn't matter anymore.

"Eddie." I hugged him. "Come visit me in Bellmonte sometime."

He nodded hard. "Take care of yourself."

An announcement came over the airport speakers.

"Attention passengers traveling to Bellmonte. Flight AZ342 is now ready for boarding. Please gather all your personal belongings and proceed to Gate 3."

I grabbed my suitcase and turned toward the jet bridge.

It wasn't long before the plane climbed straight into the clouds. Outside the window, endless layers of white stretched as far as I could see, almost blindingly bright.

The city below grew smaller and smaller. The buildings, the streets, that bench, those ten years—it was all in the past now.

Above the clouds, the sunlight was warm and bright.

In my ears, I could still hear Dad's voice as we sat at the chessboard, his hand patting my head.

"Wesley, don't be afraid of losing. As long as you're still standing, you can always play another round."