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Private eye photographs.
Rick, stalking us and taking intimate photos.
Clara going to Marissa to confess her guilt.
And now we’re just standing here, unable to breathe, the sky torn open and falling down.
August could scare off a whole pride of lions. He’s so deathly still I wonder if he’s turned to granite, staring at his aunt with a terrible look I’ve never seen before on any human face.
This hard, ugly mix of betrayal, hurt, agony, and loathing.
It’s like he’s looking at a stranger, an intruder in his house, in his life.
A look so visceral it hurts even me—almost as much as realizing the woman I’ve looked up to all this time is a fraud.
No. No, I can’t believe it.
She must be doing this for some reason, right? My instincts can’t be this wrong; this whole thing feels off, and I just can’t—
“You lied,” August clips. His voice is a contradiction, brittle titanium. “Either you lied my whole fucking life—or you’re lying right now to Sullivan. So, which one is it, Clara? Which lie?”
Clara.
Oh my God.
Not Aunt Clara.
Just this cold, impersonal thing, like he’s divorced himself from his feelings for her entirely.
Clara’s eyes glimmer as she shakes her head. “Don’t press this, August. I told you, some things are more important than money and copyrights.”
August’s fists clench slowly.
I watch helplessly.
I hate Marissa right now. She’s just watching with a smug smile like she’s enjoying this, like she’s relishing breaking a family apart and ruining the trust and love they had.
Deb shakes her head, covering her mouth with one hand. “Auntie, why? None of this makes sense—”
“It doesn’t need to, sweetheart.” Clara smiles sadly. “One day you’ll understand.”
“Make me understand right now,” August bites off. Forceful. Deadly. “Make me understand why you would go behind my back, just like everyone else.”
Oh God.
That’s what it’s about, isn’t it?
Charisma went behind his back, trying to take everything he had for her crazy cult. It’s no wonder he’s been so standoffish with women—prickly with me.
And then Rick, his right hand, the closest thing I think August had to a friend ...
Tears sting my eyes.
But I’m not going to cry. There’s no time for selfish tears.
I can’t sit by and let this happen. It’s breaking my heart.
I step closer and touch August’s arm.
