Page 128 of Keller

Tonight, that belief doesn’t carry the certainty it once did.

THIRTY-THREE

Keller

The Symbolism of Purple, Green, and Gold:Established by the Krewe of Rex in 1872, the official Carnival colors—purple for justice, green for faith, and gold for power—remain central to krewe pageantry and design. These hues appear in flags, floats, costumes, and throws, reinforcing shared symbolism across both traditional and modern Carnival organizations.

Beingin Savannah in the middle of the day is like breathing through a wet towel. The air doesn’t move. It presses against my skin until my shirt clings to my spine and the inside of my collar feels damp.

I haven’t slept. My eyes burn, and my jaw aches from clenching it through the night.

I stand across the street from Charlton Grant’s office building with my jacket folded over my arm because wearing it would be unbearable.

The brick façade has been restored with the kind of careful precision that wins awards and photographs in architectural magazines. Tall windows, clean lines, and a brass plaque beside the door, polished to a quiet shine, tie it all together for an aesthetically pleasing presentation.

I flex my fist and force my hands to relax, but they curl again without permission.

While I wait for him to come out, my mind goes back to her.

Ridge’s voice was measured when he said her name, almost detached. He had no idea I’d spent the last several weeks in her bed, on her couch, on her deck while she held the thread that could unravel my family. At least he didn’t know then. He will soon enough.

Wells can find anything. If there is a digital footprint tying me to Quinn Mercer, he’s already uncovered it. He likely knows I left her house that morning and walked straight into a boardroom where her recommendation was being dissected line by line.

I don’t need to replay the confrontation. The moment crystallized the instant I heard her name. Everything before it rearranged itself. Every conversation, every touch, every time I thought I saw something unguarded in her expression. It all shifted into a different pattern, one where I was the only person unaware of the stakes.

She knew who I was after that first night. She admitted as much. She knew exactly what her assignment was and what it could become. And she kept going anyway.

The words she said this morning echo anyway.

I love you.

She said it like a lifeline. Like if she repeated it enough, it would outweigh the rest.

My mother used to smile at my father across the breakfast table in a way that made him soften. I used to believe that meantsomething solid, something unbreakable. Then the photographs surfaced, and the secrecy took on a different shape. I learned early that what looks steady from the outside can fracture without warning.

I thought I'd finally separated the two things. I told myself that whatever happened between my mother and Charlton didn’t have to define how I moved through the world. I convinced myself I could let Quinn in without dragging all of that old suspicion behind me.

Instead, the two stories folded into each other.

My mother kept secrets I didn’t understand. Quinn kept secrets she insists were necessary. The details may differ, but the outcome is the same. I'm left standing on the outside of something that should have included me.

The first time I came to Savannah, I wasn’t sure what I expected. I needed to see him in person, to measure the man against the years of resentment I carried.

When I left, I convinced myself it was enough. He was smaller than the story I'd built. Ordinary. Whatever existed between him and my mother no longer felt like something that owned me.

Quinn made that easier, whether she knew it or not. Being with her showed me the past could stay in the past. I thought I had finally separated what happened before from what I could build now. I thought I had proof that I wasn’t doomed to repeat anything.

Then her name surfaced in that boardroom.

My mother's betrayal didn’t stay contained. It didn’t stay quiet. It folded forward and landed in my lap all over again.

My mother kept something from us. Quinn kept something from me. Different circumstances. Same outcome. I am the one standing outside the truth.

I'm not here to untangle that. I'm not here to evaluate whether my mother was innocent or guilty. I'm here because something in me needs to push back against the pattern instead of absorbing it.

I'm fucking done lying down and taking it.

If I can’t confront the woman who broke me with her betrayal, then I'll confront the man who was complicit.