Chapter 29

{Hailey’s POV}

The next morning was weird. Not murder-weird. Not riddle-weird. Just… weird.

Because instead of being locked in a room full of yelling heirs and haunted stares, I found myself on a private golf course, surrounded by billionaires with clubs in their hands and secrets in their pockets.

The Lachlan estate’s course was massive—perfect grass, stupid expensive golf carts, and those annoying little flags whipping in the breeze like they knew something I didn’t. Kaira looked like she stepped out of a Vogue sportswear ad, snapping selfies while sipping something green and healthy-looking. Me? I was in leggings, a borrowed cap, and zero idea what I was doing.

Julian was all sharp lines and stone-cold silence. He hadn’t looked at me once since we got here.

Luca and Aaron were trash-talking like they were filming a reality show.

And Marcus?

Marcus was suddenly at my side, holding a golf club like it was sacred.

“Have you ever played?” he asked, his voice soft but curious.

“Does mini-golf after tequila count?”

He smirked, taking the club from my hand. “No. But it’s a start.”

I expected him to tease me, maybe make a snide comment about my grip or stance. But Marcus just stepped behind me—closer than necessary—and placed his hands on mine.

“Hold it like this,” he said, adjusting my fingers. His breath brushed against my ear, and my brain… forgot how to work.

“Relax your shoulders,” he murmured. “Golf is about control, not power.”

“Oh,” I breathed, which wasn’t exactly helpful, but I couldn’t remember any actual words.

Behind us, Aaron whistled. “Is this golf or foreplay?”

“Shut up,” Marcus said without looking back.

I glanced toward Julian—couldn’t help it—and caught him staring. His arms were crossed, his jaw flexed. He wasn’t even pretending to watch the others play. His gaze was fixed on me. Or maybe on Marcus. Or maybe on the five inches of air between us that Julian probably wanted to stab with a wedge.

Marcus stepped back, letting me try the swing on my own. I hit the ball.

It rolled six feet.

“That’s… something,” Marcus said, trying not to laugh.

I turned to him. “You know, I could’ve just googled this.”

“But then I wouldn’t get to do this,” he said, brushing a strand of hair from my face.

Okay. Definitely not just golf.

Julian finally walked over, voice cold and clipped. “She’s holding it wrong.”

“No, she’s not,” Marcus said.

“I think I can handle a club,” I added, annoyed now.

Julian ignored me and took the club from my hands like it offended him. He grabbed a different one and handed it to me. “This is the right weight. You’ll never get distance with the other.”

“And suddenly you care,” I muttered.

Julian stepped closer. “I’ve always cared. That’s the problem.”

My heart flipped—and not in the fun, rom-com way. In the oh-god-he’s-angry-and-I-like-it way.

Kaira, from the other side of the course, called out, “Okay, what’s this? A golf match or a testosterone showdown?”

“Both,” Aaron called back. “We’re rebranding the family trauma as a sporting event.”

I snorted. “What are we playing for, then?”

Luca raised his hand. “Loser has to answer a personal question.”

“Oh, I love this game,” Kaira grinned.

I narrowed my eyes at the Lachlans. “Even you guys?”

Julian shrugged. “If you can beat us.”

Marcus winked. “Not a chance.”

An hour later, I’d hit a few decent swings, Kaira had taken seventeen selfies and one accidental video of Aaron swearing at a bird, and I’d somehow managed to feel… lighter. For the first time since stepping foot in this estate, I didn’t feel like I was being hunted. I felt—almost—normal.

But it didn’t last.

Because even in laughter, there was tension. Under the sun and the jokes, Julian watched Marcus. Marcus watched me. And somewhere in the background of my brain, Eloise’s name echoed like a warning.

Julian walked over as we neared the last hole, pulling me aside.

“What are you doing with Marcus?” he asked, too close, too intense.

“I’m playing golf,” I said. “With the guy who didn’t call me a fraud last night.”

His jaw clenched. “He’s not who you think he is.”

“And who are you?” I challenged.

He didn’t answer.

Instead, his gaze dropped to my mouth. For a second, just one heartbeat, it felt like he might kiss me. But he didn’t.

He stepped back.

“Just… be careful, Hailey.”

I exhaled. “Of Marcus?”

“Of this house,” he said. “Of everything.”

Behind him, Marcus was watching us again.

God. I was so sick of riddles in everything—including the people.

We all rode back in silence, golf clubs tossed into the cart like forgotten weapons.

As we reached the steps of the house, Kaira turned to me and whispered, “So… Marcus or Julian?”

I stared at the mansion towering over us, shadows pooling behind the windows.

And I said the only honest thing I could.

“I don’t know. But whichever one it is—I think he’ll break me first.”