MasukEveryone in the social circle of Kingsford said I was nothing more than a lapdog raised by Charles Mankin. I was always at his beck and call. I did every filthy, ludicrous thing for him under the sun. When he street raced, I rode shotgun. When he drank himself senseless, I made him hangover soup. When he chased girls, I prepared protection for them. Over time, everyone knew: Charles had a dog who never ran, never bit back, no matter how hard he kicked. They all said I must be madly in love with him. Even Charles started to believe it. So he pushed further, more freely, more cruelly, crossing lines as if they never existed. Then came my twenty-fifth birthday. He, in a rare stroke of mercy, said he'd celebrate it with me. But instead, what he got was the news that I was leaving the country. He went berserk, charging through the airport like a man possessed. I peeled his fingers off my wrist one by one, smiling like I'd never been happier. "Don't be stupid," I told him, still smiling. "That was never love." That night, Charles smashed apart his family home like a rabid dog.
Lihat lebih banyakInside the box, a familiar blue crystal pendant lay quietly.And with it, memories I thought long buried were suddenly set alight.After the accident, I had wandered to the rooftop of a tall building just off the street. Not because I had any particular thought in mind, only because I wanted a place with a view, somewhere silent, somewhere to be alone for a while."You were the guy on the rooftop that day?"It hit me all at once.I stared at Tyler, my mouth hanging open in disbelief.But he looked nothing like the boy I remembered.Back then, he was all angles and shadows—gaunt, hollow-eyed, worn out in a way that made him seem already halfway gone. Lifeless, almost.Tyler smiled softly and gave a small nod. "Yeah, that was me.""That year I was applying to college," he said. "My parents pushed me into business. I didn't want it. I never wanted it. My life felt like a marionette's—someone else always pulling the strings. I couldn't sleep for months. My mind started slipping in
There's something different about the streets of France in early winter.I was walking back to my apartment alone after class. The sound of hurried footsteps behind me made me tense. Instinctively, I quickened my pace.But whoever was behind me only closed the distance faster.Panic swelled in my chest. I broke into a run, turning corners without thinking, until I crashed into something—someone—solid and cool."I've been waiting forever," a man's voice murmured above my head, calm and low. "Took you long enough."He spoke in fluent, effortless French—clearly for the benefit of the people behind me.From behind, someone cursed under their breath and turned away, footsteps fading into the distance.Only then did I lift my head.The first thing I saw was Tyler's face. As cold and striking as I remembered, but thinner now, more worn. The disheveled stubble, the slight slump in his shoulders—he looked like a man who had lost things along the way."What are you doing here?" I asked,
"You're clever," Madam Mankin said, her voice low and tight, "but you should also know—only certain kinds of people are truly capable of keeping secrets."I raised an eyebrow, calm and unshaken."I wouldn't have come here alone unless I was ready," I said. "All the evidence is scheduled to be sent from a secure email. If I don't make it to my flight, it'll go straight to George. But if I get on that plane, it vanishes. For good.""And why should I believe you?" Her chest rose and fell rapidly, her emotions clearly pushing against the seams."Because you don't have a choice. You have to."I knew her weakness better than anyone. After a lifetime of manipulation, I understood what she valued most. It wasn't the police she feared. It was her husband, George Mankin.The moment he discovered who was truly behind the death of his beloved son, everything she built would crumble.This was a game neither of us could afford to lose."Who are you?" she asked, her voice low, eyes narrowing.
It was as if Charles were caught in the grip of some unfathomable, fatal dilemma.His expression faltered—confused, adrift."Mindy," his voice came from behind me, low and hoarse, "it shouldn't be like this. Even if you're in love with my brother... we look so alike. Why don't you feel anything for me at all?"I didn't stop walking. Didn't even glance back.A man like him—perhaps someone like him could live his whole life without ever truly understanding what love is.He had imprisoned himself in the past, wrapping it around him like a safety blanket, too afraid to see that it was already threadbare. But me—I wanted to move forward.Inside the inner hall, Madam Mankin was already waiting for me.She lifted her face slightly, then stroked the cross in her hand.When she heard my footsteps, her fingers paused."Mindy," she said gently, "I've always known... you were just a child back then. What happened—it wasn't your fault."I stared at her, expressionless. Not a flicker of em












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