Page 69 of Bitter Truths

When I step back into the living room, they’re all where I left them, tension radiating from their bodies.

“I still don’t understand why they would go to these extremes...”

“Montgomery and our fathers wanted a business merger, and this was the most effective way to do it,” Tristan explains. “My family owns Barrett Pharmaceuticals, Freddie’s family works in transport, Weller’s family has ungodly amounts of money for investments, and Owen’s family owns most of Westmont.”

“The day at the waterhole when you overheard us talking,” Owen adds, taking a careful step toward me, “we were discussing how our fathers had been hassling us for months about an arranged bond with Whitney. We said no. But we see how that turned out...”

My legs give out beneath me, and I sink to the floor, surrounded by pieces of expensive things that suddenly don’t matter at all. I hug my knees to my chest.

The truth is too much to process.

So much time spent hating them. Hating myself for being inadequate. Five years in the mountains while my family went on without me. Birthdays and holidays missed. Winston’s graduation. His bond celebration. All of it—lost forever because of an elaborate setup.

My shoulders shake. I bite my lip so hard I taste blood, desperate not to fall apart in front of them.

Owen kneels in front of me. “We would never choose anyone over you.”

A fissure in the armor I’ve built around my heart cracks inside me. My throat knots up, and I fight back tears.

“We tried everything to reach you,” Freddie says, sounding sad. “Your parents wouldn’t talk to us. Your brother—“ He breaks off, exchanging glances with Owen.

Owen’s hand rises to his face, fingers tracing what I now realize is an old break in his nose. “Your brother wanted to murder us for a long time.”

“He broke Owen’s nose and two ribs when we tried to approach him at the hospital,” Tristan adds. “It took three security guards to pull him off.”

“Winnie did that?” Sweet, rational Winston beating one of his best friends bloody is impossible to imagine.

“Can’t say I blame him,” Owen says with a grimace that’s almost a smile. “I would’ve done worse if I’d been in his position.”

Weller joins the conversation, his voice clipped and cold. “By the time Winston started talking to us again, it was clear what might happen to people we cared about if we spoke up. Whitney’s father made sure we understood the consequences.”

“We tried the police,” Freddie runs a hand through his curls, the movement sharp and agitated. “They’ve been paid off. We hired private investigators, but they either vanished or stopped returning our calls.”

Tristan leans forward, his elbows resting on his knees, fingers threading together tightly. “Eventually, we started thinking maybe you disappearing into the forest was the safest thing that could’ve happened. Out of her reach. Out of theirs.”

My stomach twists. “My brother told you where I was?”

Weller’s jaw ticks once, then again, as if he’s holding back more than just words. “He wouldn’t tell us much. Only that you were alive. That you were okay.”

Freddie shifts beside him, guilt bleeding through. “We didn’t think it was safe to pursue you, Bianca. Whitney is... unstable. Her father is dangerous. So are ours. Trying to drag you back into the middle of it while everything around us was imploding would’ve been reckless. Irresponsible.”

Tristan exhales sharply and tosses a glare at the floor. “Plus, we have trackers. Implanted. Monitored constantly. If we so much as breathe outside of Westmont or Emerald Hills, someone will show up and drag us back using whatever methods necessary. Ask me how we know.”

Freddie’s voice drops, low and flat now. His usual glow gone, replaced with a hollowed-out sound. “We couldn’t look for you without dragging them right to your door.”

Owen leans forward. “Whitney is a serious danger to you, Bianca. Stay away from her.”

I scoff and roll my eyes without thinking.

Across the room, Weller stiffens. “Don’t.” His warning cuts clean. “Don’t underestimate what she’s capable of.”

“Don’t underestimate me, Weller.” The words come out sharp, heat rising in my chest. “I’m not scared of Whitney. I’d like to wrap my hands around her neck and watch the life drain out of her eyes right this second.”

Tristan perks up like I’ve offered him a gift, his gaze snapping to mine as he leans in, clearly delighted.

Freddie looks uneasy. “You don’t understand.” His voice trembles, a hitch above a whisper. “She’s not the person you grew up with.”

My head shakes slowly, confusion knotting behind my ribs. “I don’t get it. We were drifting apart before I left, sure, but... we were close once. Why did she do this?”