"She visits the kid—Brigit. Usually in the afternoon. They talk, sometimes draw together. Nothing suspicious."
I lean back in my chair, frustration churning in my gut. This doesn't make sense. That first night, she was desperate to get out of her room, dressed in next to nothing. I was certain she was sneaking off to meet a lover.
"You're positive you haven't missed anything? No coded messages? No suspicious phone calls?"
Davis shakes his head. "We've been thorough, Mr. Ifrinn. She hasn't tried to contact anyone outside the approved list. No suspicious behavior at all."
I dismiss him with a wave, then pour myself two fingers of whiskey. The amber liquid burns satisfyingly as I swallow it down.
What game is Keira playing? I was so sure she had someone she cared about enough to risk my wrath. Yet now she's the picture of compliance, planning our wedding like the dutiful fiancée.
The sex we had… it felt real. Too real. For a moment, we were who we used to be before her family destroyed mine. Before I became this version of myself.
I pace the length of my office, the whiskey glass dangling from my fingers. The memory of Keira's body beneath mine haunts me. The way she moved, the sounds she made. It wasn't the mechanical compliance she’d hinted at when it was over. It was passion, raw and honest.
Could we find our way back to what we had? The thought is both terrifying and intoxicating. I remember how it felt to love her without reservation, to plan our future together in whispered conversations.
But the doubts crowd in immediately. She's hiding something significant enough to risk everything for. Trust is impossible without truth, and Keira Kean is keeping secrets.
I've survived this long by trusting my instincts. And every instinct tells me there's more to Keira's story than she's letting on—something that could change everything if I discovered it.
I drain my glass and set it down harder than necessary. Women are supposed to be my brothers' weakness, not mine. Yet here I am, obsessing over Keira Kean like a lovesick teenager instead of focusing on cementing our family's reclaimed power.
I catch my reflection in the window and barely recognize myself. I've become hard, cold. Necessary traits for survival, but I wonder what they cost me.
I think of Brigit's words in the kitchen the other night. So simple, yet they've been eating at me. Why choose to be miserable? It wasn’t a choice. In losing my parents, losing everything, there’s only grief and anger. It’s fueled my vengeance. I’ve won, but my parents are still dead. The Keans still need to pay. It’s not a matter of choosing how to feel. That’s the reality of my life. When Brigit’s older, she’ll understand. Maybe she’ll get angry at the Keans too for taking away her parents. Perhaps I’ll bring her peace in knowing they’re in prison.
It's odd that neither of them, not Keira nor Brigit, have asked to see Hampton or Lana. Most daughters would be begging, pleading to make sure their parents were safe. Not Keira. She's mentioned them only when necessary, her voice flat, emotionless.
It's another piece that doesn't fit the puzzle I've constructed over the years. Ten years ago, Keira wanted out of this house and away from her parents. She was unhappy and felt unloved. I wanted to give her all the love she craved. But then the fire took everything from me, including my innocence around love. She had to be a willing accomplice to my family’s downfall. Everything about our love had been a lie. Hadn’t it? But her indifference toward Hampton and Lana now suggests otherwise.
I think back to the night I returned, the fear in her eyes when I brought her to the basement to discuss her family’s offer, a marriage to Keira in exchange for their lives. Keira’s first response was asking what would happen if she refused.
I roll my shoulders as doubt creeps deeper. No, it wasn’t until the child was brought up that she became compliant.
The anger that's fueled me for a decade still burns, but uncertainty creeps in. I've built my revenge around the belief that Keira betrayed me, that she knew what her family planned. What if I was wrong?
Fuck. I can't afford to doubt now. The Keans destroyed everything I loved, and Keira is a Kean.
Yet the memory of her in my arms, moving against me with such desperate need… That wasn't the response of a woman who hated me. Nor was it mere compliance.
I down my drink, disgusted with my weakness. This is why mixing business with pleasure is dangerous. One night with her and I'm questioning everything.
Even if she wasn't directly involved in the plot against my family, she's still keeping secrets. Significant ones. And until I know what they are, I can't trust her. I can't forgive her.
“Trouble in paradise?” Blaise says as he saunters into my office.
The rest of my brothers, including Ash, file in after him. The three of them together always remind me of when we were kids, inseparable, loyal to a fault.
"You called for us?" Ash asks, taking a seat. He looks better than he did a few days ago, the worry over Hannah easing from his features.
"Wedding preparations are almost complete," I say, keeping my tone neutral. "I wanted to make sure we're all on the same page before the families arrive."
Blaise leans against the bookshelf, arms crossed. "And how's the bride-to-be handling everything?"
There's an edge to his question that I don't miss. My brothers haven't forgotten how I treated Keira at the dinner.
"We've reached… an understanding."
