⋅•⋅⊰∙∘⋆✼♡✽⋆∘∙⊱⋅•

The laptop screen went dark, and for what felt like forever, the only noise filling Ethan’s bedroom was the soft, steady hum of the heater pushing warm air against the frost coating the window panes. Outside, the snow tapped gently on the glass, almost like it was trying to be polite while the chaos inside the room seemed ready to explode.

I found myself sitting on the edge of Ethan’s bed, knees pressed tightly together to the point that my thighs throbbed, staring at the dark screen as if hoping it would suddenly spring back to life and reveal that this was all some kind of elaborate joke.

Keith killed Joanne...his own wife. The mother of his son.

My heart was racing, doing its usual frantic flutter when everything felt overwhelmingly real, and I couldn’t shake the thought that kept echoing in my mind: My mom was with Keith? Before Joanne died? They lied to us saying they met last year when they’ve been together the whole time?

Did that mean...my mother knew Keith killed Adrien’s mother? Was she in on everything?

Adrien was the first to break the silence. He shoved his chair back so forcefully that the legs screeched against the hardwood, making me cringe. Then he just stood there, towering over the desk, looking lost about what to do with the rage and grief boiling inside him.

He brought his hands up to his face, fingers tangled in his hair, and dropped into the chair with a heavy thud that shook the whole frame.

He didn’t cry...Adrien never let tears fall in front of anyone if he could avoid it, but his breathing was shattered, quick and jagged, as if his lungs were struggling to hold everything in.

Ethan was on the other side of the desk, looking pale under the soft light of the lamp, but his stance was steady, as it always was when the rest of us were falling apart. He rubbed a hand over his jaw, taking his time like he was carefully processing the confession piece by piece.

"The journal entries," he said quietly, his voice calm but laced with something raw beneath the surface. "All those times Joanne wrote about feeling trapped, about someone being after her inheritance... it wasn’t just paranoia. She knew and she was trying to escape, and Logan helped her...until he didn’t."

Adrien let out a sound that was part laugh, part broken breath.

"He killed her," he whispered, repeating it like saying it enough times might help it make sense. "My own father killed my mother... and he acted all upset when she died. He stood at her funeral and told me it was just black ice. He hugged me and said we’d get through it together."

His voice cracked at the end, and he pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes, trying to push the image away. "But he was the one who... God, I feel so fucking stupid."

I wanted to reach out, but my arms felt heavy, weighed down by the bombshell about mom still exploding in slow motion inside of me.

My mom. The woman who used to make me pancakes on tough mornings and promised a better life when she married Keith.

She had known. She’d been part of the lie from the start, and realizing that tasted metallic in my mouth. I swallowed hard and forced my hand out anyway, resting it on Adrien’s knee because touching him felt like the only thing I could still manage to do right.

"Hey," I said softly, my voice coming out steadier than I felt. "He fooled all of us, I remember thinking that he was a good man. That doesn’t make you stupid, It makes him a monster."

Ethan nodded, leaning forward until his elbows rested on his knees.

"We have solid proof now. The video, the timestamps, Logan naming names...We could actually put an end to this. All of it."

Adrien dropped his hands, his eyes red-rimmed but dry, looking between us for a moment. The silence stretched out, thick and uncomfortable, until Ethan tried to break it with that awkward little half-smile he got when he was desperate not to let things fall apart.

"Well," he said, his tone light but forced, "at least we know why my uncle was such a jerk to me growing up. Guess he was just getting in practice for the whole ’blackmail a murderer’ phase."

The joke landed like a damp towel, flat, a bit pathetic, yet somehow just what we needed. A small, broken laugh slipped out before I could stop it, followed by Adrien huffing out something that might have been a chuckle if it didn’t sound so painful.

That sound hung in the air for a moment, fragile and unexpected, and for just a beat, the three of us were laughing amidst the wreckage, that kind of laughter that stings but also feels like breathing again.

When it faded, the room felt a little less suffocating. Adrien reached out and covered my hand on his knee with his own, warm and steady. Ethan shifted closer on the other side, his shoulder nudging mine, and together we sat in a messy little huddle, knees touching, breaths syncing up as if it were natural. No more secrets.

No more pretending this situation was something we had to choose sides over.

"We do this together," I said, the words slipping out before I could second-guess them. "No more hiding. No more one of us taking the burden alone, we’re in this together. All three of us, we are going to end this...to get justice for Joanne."

Adrien’s fingers tightened around mine, and Ethan’s hand found my other shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

"Yeah," Adrien said, his voice rough but firm. "Together."

Ethan nodded, his steady presence anchoring the moment. "Tonight. At the mansion. Before he figures out we have the drive and destroys every shred of evidence he’s been hoarding. We walk in, show the video to the police, and finish this."

He paused, rubbing the back of his neck like he always did when he was plotting three steps ahead.

"But Keith’s an influential guy. If he could cover up two murders and convince everyone it was just bad luck and a suicide, he could easily twist murder accusations into nothing even with that flash drive in our hands. We’ve got to be smart about this. Can’t just burst in swinging."

I sat there for a moment, letting his words settle in like fresh snow, and then something clicked...a wild, reckless idea that felt both terrifying and right. I felt my lips curve into a nervous smile that probably didn’t look very confident, but it was there.

"I have an idea," I said.

The words lingered between us as I explained everything, and for the first time since the video ended, the dread in my chest felt lighter, almost hopeful.

We got up together, moving as a unit, grabbing our coats, keys, and whatever remaining courage we had left. Outside, the snow was falling thicker now, blanketing the world in white, as we climbed into Ethan’s car and pulled away from the curb.

The mansion lights flickered in the distance like a warning, and my phone buzzed in my pocket. I pulled it out, expecting another frantic message from the staff, but the name on the screen made my stomach drop.

Mom.

Where are you? What were you doing at that motel where Logan died? Keith is furious. Come home right now.

How did she know where we went?

I stared at the text, my vision blurring for a moment as the realization hit me like a blast of cold air. Keith had us followed. He already knew. And back at the mansion, he was likely tearing apart the study in a rage, destroying every paper that could link him to any of this.

The dread rushed back in, thicker and heavier than before, but I kept quiet for now. I just slipped the phone back into my pocket and looked out at the swirling snow across the windshield, the mansion looming closer with every turn of the tires.