Chapter 13: The Serpent's Offer

The unsettling revelation about Verdant Holdings lingered in Lynn's mind like a persistent ghost. The clear, cold hatred he had nurtured for Caius was now muddied with confusing questions. He tried to push them aside, to focus on the tangible facts: he was a prisoner, a replacement. But the memory of Caius's fear, the awkward care, the silent retribution—they were cracks in the foundation of his certainty.

It was in this vulnerable, confused state that Marcus found him again. Not at a social event, but with a brazenness that spoke of careful planning. Lynn had been granted his weekly "supervised" outing to a small, private gallery exhibiting a new artist. James's usual shadow was a few paces behind, giving a semblance of space. As Lynn stood before a particularly vibrant abstract painting, trying to lose himself in the colors, a familiar, smooth voice spoke beside him.

"Lynn. A pleasant surprise." Marcus Evans was there, impeccably dressed, holding a glass of champagne as if he owned the place. He smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners, but the warmth didn't reach their cold, assessing depths. "Enjoying the art? It's so much more... lively than the dark pieces I hear you've been creating lately."

Lynn's blood ran cold. How did he know about his paintings? He took a step back, his guard instantly up. "Mr. Evans." His tone was flat, devoid of courtesy.

"Please, call me Marcus. We're practically family, aren't we?" Marcus's smile widened. He glanced casually over Lynn's shoulder at James, who was watching them intently from across the room. Marcus gave a slight, dismissive wave, a gesture of someone used to being obeyed. To Lynn's shock, James, after a moment's hesitation, nodded slightly and turned to engage in a conversation with the gallery owner, creating a fragile bubble of privacy.

"Now," Marcus said, his voice dropping to a confidential murmur, "we can talk." He moved to stand beside Lynn, both of them ostensibly looking at the painting. "I was sorry our last conversation was cut short. About your father."

Lynn's heart hammered against his ribs. He kept his eyes fixed on the swirls of paint, afraid that if he looked at Marcus, he would betray the storm of emotion inside him. "I have nothing to say about that."

"Don't you?" Marcus pressed, his voice silky. "A man dies under mysterious circumstances, his business collapses, his family is left destitute... and his son ends up as the live-in companion of the man whose family benefited most from his ruin. You don't find that... curious?"

Lynn couldn't breathe. The gallery walls seemed to close in on him. "What are you implying?" he whispered, his voice strangled.

"I'm not implying anything. I'm stating a fact," Marcus said coolly. "The Evans Group acquired several key assets from your father's company at a fraction of their value just after his... unfortunate passing. My uncle—Caius's father—was a ruthless man. And Caius... well, he learned from the best. He was being groomed to take over even then. He would have known. He might have even been involved."

The words were like physical blows. Each one landed with devastating precision, tearing open old wounds and pouring poison into them. Involved. The word echoed in his mind. Was it possible? Was the man who trembled when he thought Lynn might die, the same man who might have had a hand in his father's destruction? The cognitive dissonance was unbearable.

"You're lying," Lynn forced out, but the words lacked conviction. They were a desperate plea, not a denial.

Marcus chuckled softly, a dry, unpleasant sound. "Am I? Why would I lie? I have nothing to gain by upsetting my dear cousin's pretty little arrangement." He leaned closer, his breath ghosting past Lynn's ear. "But you... you have everything to gain. The truth. Justice for your father. Perhaps even... your freedom."

He paused, letting the offer hang in the air like a ripe, poisonous fruit. "I have resources. Information. Things you could never access on your own, locked away in your golden cage. We could help each other, Lynn. Find out what really happened. Together."

Lynn stood frozen. The vibrant painting in front of him was a meaningless blur. His world had narrowed to Marcus's offer. It was everything he wanted: answers, revenge, a way out. But it meant allying himself with a man he instinctively knew was just as dangerous as Caius, if not more so. It meant betraying the fragile, confusing truce that had begun to form, however unwillingly, with his captor.

But then he thought of his father. The kind, hopeful man who had believed in building something honest, only to have it all ripped away. He thought of the years of struggle, of Anna's illness, of his own powerlessness. And he thought of Caius, who held all the cards, who might be hiding a monstrous secret behind a mask of confusing concern.

The conflict was tearing him apart. The tiny, fragile shoots of something other than hatred he'd felt for Caius were withering under the scorching heat of Marcus's accusations. Revenge for his father was a more powerful, more righteous cause than his own personal confusion.

He didn't look at Marcus. He didn't agree aloud. But when he finally spoke, his voice was low and steady, all traces of hesitation gone. "What would I need to do?"

Marcus's smile was triumphant. "Nothing for now. Just think about it. I'll be in touch." He straightened up, patted Lynn on the shoulder in a gesture that was meant to look friendly but felt like a brand. "Enjoy the rest of the exhibition."

He walked away, blending back into the crowd. A moment later, James was at Lynn's side again, his expression unreadable. "Is everything alright, Mr. Lynn? You look pale."

Lynn forced himself to turn away from the painting. His hands were shaking. He clenched them into fists. "I'm fine," he said, his voice hollow. "I've just seen all I need to see here."

He walked out of the gallery, the bright sunlight feeling harsh and accusing. The cage was still there, but now a serpent had slithered inside, offering him a key made of lies and half-truths. And Lynn, his heart burning with a renewed, righteous fury, was seriously considering taking it.