It’s like he thinks he knows what really went down between the three of us. There was always speculation on how close we were.

But nobody really has it right.

Nobody has any clue.

I couldn’t tell my parents or my friends.

The only person who knows is Quinn and the one girl that destroyed our friendship without even batting an eyelash.

“It’s not even about Tessa,” I finally say. “That bitch can rot in hell. It never even was.”

Our teacher walks into the classroom.

Hudson is silent. “You know you can talk about it, I mean, I have a theory, but it’s pretty deranged even for you.”

“It’s probably tame compared to what really happened, Hudson. There’s a reason we don’t talk about it. She almost ruined our lives.”

“Don’t they say history often repeats itself?” Hudson asks before putting his pods in his ears and closing his eyes like he didn’t just give me a stomach ulcer and near heart attack at the same time.

Quinn would never.

He’s a lot of things.

But he wouldn’t go there again, not after the last time.

Right?

I warned him away enough, and the last thing either of us need is attention or gossip after last time, and this close to graduation. Both of us have companies to take over, families to run, and adult shit to do.

He wouldn’t.

I look to my right and stare as he leans back in his desk. He’s good-looking enough, all the girls think he’s the sweetest nerd on the planet.

But I know his darkness.

Maybe it’s time they did too.

Chapter Fifteen

Mary-Belle

Something’s off when I get home later that day—at least I’m making progress and calling it home, right? It’s all I have, and while I’m pretty sure Ambrose’s mom, Susan, plots my death every night while she chugs her wine—she’s at least given me a space where I have a bed, clothes, a toothbrush that isn’t losing its bristles and actual food I’m allowed to eat.

We don’t talk to each other; in fact, the few times I’ve even seen her, she’s been sleeping on the couch with the TV on. She doesn’t get out much, stopped getting her nails and hair done. She’s spiraling, and I know Ambrose notices it, but there’s nothing either of us can do.

A therapist visited the other day, but Susan just stared into the blank space of nothingness and continued to drink.

Life is not perfect. It’s a lie. Ambrose’s life is a lie. And weirdly enough, he got exactly what he said he always wanted.

Brokenness.

The lawsuits are ongoing against the family company—talk of cover-ups is never a good look for any business, but I can’t imagine anyone speaking a word against the dynasty after the death of its CEO.

It’s bad to speak ill of the dead, but I think about him in those last minutes, the look of fear in his eyes as he reached for me with the same hands he used on his own son.