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And I’m definitely proud of my actions today.
“Go ahead,” I goad him.“Just do it.I’m ready.But it won’t change anything.The truth is protected.Along with that recording you’ve been after all these years.”
He blinks repeatedly, jaw dropping open in surprise.“You… You found it?”
“I’ve had it all this time.After what you did to Callie, I decided to hold on to it as insurance.And that’s exactly what it is.Insurance that even after I’m gone, the truth will come out.The truth should have come out a long time ago.It should have come out after you killed Callie, but I was too naïve, allowed you to convince me that I’d be the one blamed for it.I was so desperate for your love and respect that I did whatever you asked.But I’m done with that.I—”
A deafening bang reverberates through the room, my chest burning with a searing pain.I look down at my shirt, the crimson stain stark against the crisp white.My back collides hard with the wall as I stumble backward, my failing vision focused on the man before me.
Crazed laughter erupts in my throat as I think of the irony of it all.
This man brought me into this world.
And now he’s the reason I’m leaving it, too.
I clutch my chest, the world growing fuzzier with every passing second.With my last ounce of strength, I say, “You lose.”
Then the darkness takes over.
ChapterThirty-Three
Esme
I stareat my laptop screen, reading yet another article written about the avalanche that killed my aunt, uncle, and cousins.I’ve spent the past several hours learning everything I possibly could about it, especially after watching the recording contained on the flash drive Jameson entrusted to my safekeeping.
A part of me expected it to be some wild prank.For it to contain anything other than the story he shared with me.
But it didn’t.
The video was dark and grainy, but there was no mistaking a much younger Henry Gates helping a man with a bloody gash along his right jawline dress six limp bodies in ski attire, then drag them up the ski run.At least now I know how Kane Kingsley got that scar.It gives me a sense of vindication to know he got it when he tried to hurt my family, that someone fought back enough to permanently scar him.
Regardless of the fact that they were murdered, not a single report mentioned the possibility their deaths were anything but accidental.Or that a charge had been set off causing the avalanche in the first place.Why would anyone question it?They all died as a result of blunt force trauma, a logical death after falling victim to an avalanche.
Never in a million years would I have thought they were murdered.
And the worst part is they were killed at my grandfather’s direction.
Why?Why would he want not only his first-born son and wife killed, but also their four children?His grandchildren?
These questions have plagued me for hours, making it impossible for me to think about anything else.
The only possible answer I’ve been able to come up with is that perhaps they could have exposed something that would have destroyed him.
And, in turn, the monarchy.
But what could that have been?
And what did my cousins have to do with it?
They were all older than me, but still only teens at the time, ranging in age from thirteen to sixteen.Why the need to silence them, too?
My body sags in the chair, and I close my eyes, fingers massaging my temples in the hopes of warding off the headache I feel forming.All I can hope is that Silas Archer answers all these questions once Jameson shares this information with the council.
Which begs the question of whether my grandmother knows any of this.I may not have the best relationship with her.She’s never been warm or nurturing.But I struggle to believe she’d condone the murder of her son and four of her grandchildren.She may be set in her ways and stubborn, but she’s not vicious.
Not capable of something like this.
I drag myself from my chair and roll my neck, trying to relieve some of the tension.Then I slip out of my office, padding on light feet through the administrative wing and toward my living quarters.
