MY BESTFRIEND’S BROTHER, MY RUIN のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 21 - チャプター 30

"Here. Your new cage. Try not to rattle the bars too loud."Cane tossed a heavy brass key onto the marble kitchen island. It skittered across the polished surface, coming to rest near a vase of white lilies that smelled like a funeral. The penthouse was a sprawling, glass-walled vacuum sixty floors above the city. Everything was white, silver, or chrome. It was a sterile paradise designed to make a man feel small."I expect you ready by seven," Cane said, checking his platinum watch. He didn't look at Rafferty. He looked at the reflection of his own perfect silk tie in the window. "The staff has your measurements. Don't make me wait."The door thudded shut. The click of the electronic lock was a finality that should have signaled defeat.Instead, Rafferty walked to the center of the living room. He didn't collapse. He didn't cry. He looked at the mahogany sideboard stocked with bottles that cost more than a year of Leo’s medical care. He poured a glass of vintage scotch, the amber liq

"Turn that shit off. Now!"Cane’s voice cracked like a whip across the penthouse living room. He didn't look at the screen. He stared at the floor, his jaw working so hard a vein throbbed in his temple. On the seventy inch display, a news anchor’s mouth moved in a silent, frantic loop. The headline crawled across the bottom in aggressive red text: THE PREDATOR’S DEBT: SAINTLY IGNATIUS THORNE LINKED TO MEDICAL FRAUD SCANDAL."It’s on every channel, Cane." Rafferty leaned against the marble island, a cup of black coffee steaming in his hands. He didn't offer a sip. "Twitter. TikTok. The clip from the gala has three million hits already. They’re calling him the Butcher of St. Jude’s.""Shut it! Just... shut it!" Cane snatched the remote and hurled it. It shattered against the TV, the screen spider-webbing into a kaleidoscope of dead pixels. The room plunged into a ringing silence, save for the hum of the air conditioning. "My lawyers are on it. It’s a fabrication. Deepfake technology. We

"Pass the salt, Ignatius. Your father’s steak looks a bit... pale."Rafferty didn't lift his eyes from his own plate. He sat at the head of the mahogany table, the chair far too large for his frame, his fingers tracing the silver filigree of the butter knife. The dining room was a tomb of white marble and gold leaf, the air conditioning humming a low, electric drone that failed to mask the smell of scorched flour and congealed fat."I said pass the salt!" Ignatius’s voice was a jagged wreck. He shoved the crystal shaker across the wood. It tipped, white grains spilling out like sand in an hourglass. His eyes were bloodshot, the skin beneath them bruised a deep, sickly plum. "Are we really doing this? Right now? The lawyers are literally outside the gates, and we’re sitting here eating... what the hell is this anyway?""It’s the carbonara you used to make for me," Rafferty said. He picked up a fork and twirled a clump of gray, clumped pasta. It was cold. A skin had formed over the sauc

"Who the hell was on shift last night?"Rafferty stood in the doorway of his bedroom, the door handle cold against his palm. He didn't look at the maid trembling by the dresser. He looked at the pillow. The white silk was stained with a dark, oily residue. A bunch of dead roses lay scattered across the center, the petals black and shriveled like burnt skin. The scent wasn't floral. It was the smell of a stagnant pond."I... I don't know, sir," the girl stammered, her fingers twisting the edge of her apron. "The security logs show the hallway was empty. No one entered after you locked the door at midnight. I swear on my life.""Get out," Rafferty said. He didn't raise his voice. He just stepped aside, his gaze fixed on the bed. "And tell the head of security he has five minutes to find the footage or he’s looking for a new job in the morgue."The girl scrambled past him, her shoes skidding on the marble floor.Rafferty walked to the bed. He didn't sit. He reached out and picked up a sm

"You're late, Raffy. I was starting to think the basement swallowed you whole."Ignatius sat on the edge of the silk-covered bed, his tuxedo jacket discarded on the floor. His white shirt was unbuttoned halfway, stained with sweat and yellowed at the armpits. He looked like a man who had been clawing at the walls. His hair stood in greasy tufts where he’d been yanking at it, and his eyes were rimmed with a raw, bleeding red.Rafferty shut the bedroom door. The click of the latch echoed. He didn't move. He stood with his back against the wood, his hands hidden in the pockets of his torn trousers. The smell of burning ozone from the server room downstairs still clung to his hair."Leo’s awake," Rafferty said. His voice was a flat, hollow pipe."Oh, fk Leo! Did you hear me? Fk him!" Ignatius surged to his feet, his knees knocking against the bedframe. He stumbled toward Rafferty, his breath smelling of sour bourbon and unwashed teeth. "I told you. I told you they’d turn. They all did it.