Semua Bab RECKLESS DESIRES: THE ODEN LEGACY : Bab 111 - Bab 120

"Am I reading this correctly?" Stacy whispered, leaning over Amiriam's desk. Sign-in sheets and Evacuation protocol were between them.Amiriam looked up, startled. "What?""That line—you were attached to Derek Langdon? In court?"She blinked. "That's… legal documents. I—had to testify."Stacy nodded slowly. "Past scandal. Public record. But here—" She pointed to the sheet. "It says Bloom wants to contact him.".Amiriam's chest tightened. She'd been secretly collaborating with Victor to confirm Derek's identity—but hadn't told anyone. Not Luke. Not Rita. And definitely not James."No. That's—" She juggled paper. "That was part of a legal footnote. Not current."Stacy's mouth curled into a small, too-innocent smile. "You look disheveled, though. May I help?"Amiriam's fingers hesitated on the pile of paper. "I can do my own organization.".Stacy took a step back, her face expressively regretful. "I just know how complicated these things are. With media inquiries. And someone is attempti

"I think we're onto something," Victor announced, rotating the laptop so Luke and Richard could view. "I recalculated the second number, the number that kept calling Langston. It's associated with a Jersey production facility that was shut down several years ago for copyright infringement. But look at this—the recent runner-up: it was reopened more recently under a new name. And who is known as a silent investor?"Luke crossed his arms over his chest, his voice low. "Who?""Ethan Scott."Richard whistled a slow note, leaning forward to scroll the page himself. "That's Stacy's ex-boyfriend, isn't it? The one who went missing after that college scandal?""Right," Victor announced, eyes aglow with the thrill of a lead at last finally coming together. "It turns out he's slowly inching his way back into the media again. Not mass media news—but alternative, guerrilla-type exposes, web documentaries, and scandal footage. And he's developing something called 'The Bloom Beneath'."Luke's spine

"Don't tell Luke," Rita panted, so quiet that the only noise came from the whine of the kitchen refrigerator.Amiriam stood still, the ice tray held in her hand cocked unevenly as one piece fell to the floor. She slowly turned, eyes gripping on her sister's white, battered face. "What did you just say?"Rita's shoulders stiffened, and she took a shaky breath. “Please, Ami. I’m serious. Don’t tell him. He’ll freak out. He’ll make it worse.”Amiriam approached her, eyes following down Rita's forearm—not the pale finger-shaped marks above the curve of her wrist, where too firm a hold had been kept. There were older ones, concealed but not hidden, shaded under makeup that hadn't completely erased them. A storm of sickness threatened in Amiriam's throat. "How long, Rita?Rita curled her arms around herself and glared at the floor. "It's not like that. He—he just gets overwhelmed sometimes. He says I push too hard."Amiriam's fingers curled into fists. "So, it's your fault he's hurting you?

"I don't want to go in there," Amiriam panted, her hand snagged on the car door handle.Luke leaned across the console, his voice calm. "You don't have to be in such a hurry. We can wait.""No," she snapped, flames in her eyes. "If I wait, I won't do it. And I have to do this. For her. For me.".The parking lot of the Sunrise Grove Mental Care Facility was empty. Leafy trees were swaying with the gentle push of the wind. There was nothing beautiful about the place—no birdsong, no flowers. Only quiet and that crushing sensation in her chest.Dr. Reiner had told her this was a step she had to take. "Closure does not always equal understanding," she'd said, "but you'll feel less like you're running from ghosts."So there she was, her heart racing, sweaty palms, prepared to face a woman she hadn't seen in over seven years. A woman who had called herself her mother.She stepped out of the car and Luke followed her. He didn't say much, offered her no empty reassurances. Just followed her, s

"You didn't have to come," Jackson whispered, his voice harsh, too quiet.Luke Oden stood by the side of the hospital bed, his fists curled in the pockets of his coat. The room was clean to a point, it stank with antiseptic and something else—rot, time running out."I did," Luke stated, voice low and tight.Jackson yanked his head around to gaze out the window, not being able to bear looking at his son. His wide shoulders now looked slouched under the hospital whites, illness and age erasing every last ounce of pride he ever wore."You could've sent flowers.""Those would not have conveyed the things I needed to convey."Silence. An everlasting one. Luke edged closer, pushing the chair over the tile floor until it scraped and screeched. He sat, not because he wanted to, but because this needed to occur."I didn't come because for so long, I didn't think you deserved it," Luke said at last.Jackson let out a faint, bitter laugh, the sound trembling in his throat. "I didn't. I don't.""