Nefarious Boys: A Dark High School Romance (Broken Saints Society 3)

by Leia Thorne

  Gaining her composure, Mrs. de Pont rights herself and straightens her back. “I’m sorry that you’re hurting,” she says, her voice suddenly level. “I know how you feel about him, but Gage brought this on himself. No, I had not planned for it to be executed like this, but his lies and betrayals resulted in his own friend pulling the trigger.”

  I stare at her in disbelief. “You altered the surveillance footage to make Rush believe Gage killed Lesley,” I snap. “You did this to him.”

  She shakes her bangs out of her eyes, unfazed. “All that matters is that you’re unharmed.”

  I hang my head and lean against the island counter, needing the support. Now that the adrenaline has ebbed from my system, I can feel every aching muscle and I’m just depleted. “What really happened that night, Tabatha?”

  She wrings her hands as she moves into the living area. “We should contact the police,” she says, avoiding my question. “I’m responsible for the event, for everyone there. I need to make a statement.”

  I glance toward the hallway of the penthouse. I only have so much time… “Tabatha, please,” I force the topic, “tell me. What really happened? Gage is paying the price, like you wanted. It’s done. But I can’t stand here and accept what has happened to him without knowing that he truly deserved that fate.”

  “He deserved it!” she cries. “Oh, I wanted to witness him suffer for far much longer, locked inside a cell, a world where no Astor has ever had to endure.” She laughs, and it tenses my spine. “Prison would’ve been the ultimate cruelty for a man like Gage. But death…?” She shrugs, indifferent. “A very fitting fate indeed for what happened to my Lesley.”

  She walks toward me slowly. “But none of this matters now,” she says, her eyes shining with unshed tears. “You’re back. You’re here with me. Like the horrors of this past year never even happened.”

  Oh, God. I think we broke her. “Tabatha, you know who I am, right?”

  She reaches out and strokes my hair. “Of course. You’re my daughter.”

  I take hold of her hand, to comfort her. “It was you that released the video at homecoming,” I say, willing her to keep talking. “You were already setting Gage up then, trying to show the world who he really was, weren’t you?”

  Her lips tremble. “I knew that he’d turn to the Van Doren girl,” she confesses. “After that damning video aired, I knew Gage would run to her, and he’d leave you all alone. And he did, remember? That’s when I came to help you.”

  I nod slowly. “You did help me,” I tell her. “You were there for me.”

  Her eyes sheen over, glassy with emotion and exhaustion. “We should leave.”

  “Wait.” Shit. I look around, desperate for more time, for something… “You told me before that Marvin came back here that night. That he was only here momentarily before he left, but that’s not true, is it?” I take a calming breath; I don’t want to push her too fast, too soon, but I need more. “Is that how you manipulated the footage? Replacing Marvin on the video with Gage? Did Marvin witness Lesley’s suicide? Please, after everything that’s happened, if you honestly want me to be a part of your world, I need the truth.”

  She forcefully swallows, her slim throat dips with the action. “Don’t make me relive it.” She closes her eyes. “Can’t we just move past it now?”

  I have to play into her delusion; it’s the only way. “Mother, please,” I beg her.

  When she opens her eyes, it’s as if she’s been transported. I am Lesley to her. In this gown, in this penthouse…I’m my sister reincarnated. “Lesley, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean it.” She shakes her head. “But how could you ask that of me? How could you…after everything I’ve done for you?”

  I try to put myself in my sister’s place a year ago. How would I feel if I’d just discovered I was adopted? What would I need? What would I ask—

  “Who is my real mother,” I blurt. It just comes out.

  Tabatha’s eyes go dark. She marches toward me and grabs ahold of my wrist. “I am your real mother.”

  I don’t fight her. I understand now. Lesley wanted to know her parents. She wanted to know where she came from. And Tabatha felt betrayed, the way any parent would who has loved and raised a child as their own.

  The elevator doors slide open, breaking the tense moment and drawing our attention to the other side of the room.

  My heart crashes against my chest at the sight of him.

  Gage is still wearing the ruined, blood-stained tuxedo. His hair is mussed in disarray, as if he’s been running his hand through it repeatedly. He’s a wreck—but to me, he’s beautiful. And he’s right on time.

  Gage enters the room, with Rush trailing behind him. “Let her go, Tabatha,” Gage orders.

  Mrs. de Pont’s hold on my arm tightens, her nails digging into my skin. “What the hell is happening?” she demands.

  From the corner of my eye, I catch sight of Palmer. She’s banked against the edge of the hallway, trying to remain unseen, but Tabatha’s wary gaze latches on to her movement. Tabatha pulls me in front of her, as if I can shield her from the invaders in her home.

  Gage moves to stand before me. “Are you all right?”

  I release the breath I’ve been holding. “I’m fine. But I’m not sure we got enough,” I admit.

  When I first came up with this plan, it was all about getting Tabatha de Pont to divulge her scheme to frame Gage. I knew she intended to frame Gage during the masquerade. However, I didn’t know exactly how it would happen or play out—but I knew she had deepfake footage of Gage at the penthouse the night of Lesley’s death, and that she intended to give it to her police friends to help point the finger at Gage.

  Having Gage and Rush’s “altercation” during the ball was a backup plan we had hoped we wouldn’t have to use. One: it could’ve gone horribly wrong. Tabatha’s police friends—as she mentioned—were in attendance. What if they would’ve apprehended Gage? Or Rush? Or worse…shot them both?

  And two: All the rumors that will surely circulate this town and the academy later, after this whole ordeal is resolved.

  I can’t think about that right now, though. Right this minute, the only thing that matters is that Gage is all right, and that Palmer is capturing this whole interaction with Tabatha on a live social media feed from her phone.

  Something seems to click together for Tabatha, and she releases me with a firm shove. “You set me up,” she accuses.

  I rub my wrist, straighten the top of my gown. When I finally face her, I do feel somewhat regretful. She was my mentor. I had respected her. I might have even been able to see her as a mother figure in time…

  But what I realized, as I sat in that dressing room with her, when she revealed how she planned to take down Gage, made me realize just how deranged this woman truly is.

  She’s a psychopath.

  In the end, no matter how she’s suffered the loss of her only child, no matter how scorned I felt toward Gage, I couldn’t let it happen.

  I walk toward Gage and open his tux, showing Tabatha the prop I stole from my drama class. “Fake blood,” I tell her. “And Rush’s gun was fake also. If anyone looked close enough, they’d see it’s the property of Brighton Saints’ drama department.”

  She lifts a quivering chin. “Why, Remi? Why would you go to this extreme to betray me…to embarrass me?”

  “We needed you to admit the truth,” I say, waving Palmer out into the open. “We knew that no one would believe us if we tried to say you set Gage up for Lesley’s murder. So, we needed you to tell the world yourself.”

  Tabatha looks at Palmer, at the phone camera she has aimed right on her. “Quite impressive,” she says. “But I’ve admitted to nothing, you see. I’m distraught. You led me to try to incriminate myself. However, I’ve said nothing that can be used against me.”

  Gage removes his tuxedo jacket. “Though that would’ve been helpful,” he says, rolling up the sleeves of his stained dress shirt along his forearms, “that’s
not the confession I came here to get.”

  Confusion lances through me. “What are you talking about?”

  Gage brings out his phone and turns the screen toward Tabatha. “Do you recognize this truck?” He flips through images of a white truck. “Look closely. There’s a paint scratch along the side that can be traced to another vehicle, Tabatha.”

  She shakes her head. “I’ve had enough of all of you and your childish games.” She searches her bag to find her phone and dials a contact. “Marvin, I need to leave. I’m in the penthouse.”

  Gage storms toward her and snatches the phone from her hand. “You sure you can trust him to save you?” he demands of her. “Where do you think I discovered the truck?”

  Her dark eyes narrow on him. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Neither do I,” I say, my breathing starting to ramp. “Gage, please…what’s going on?”

  A tight frown pulls at the corners of his mouth as he hands me his phone. “According to the police report, a witness described a white truck fleeing the scene of a hit-and-run over a year ago,” he says, as I swipe through the images. “I found that truck stashed in Marvin’s shed on his property. I believe he kept the evidence for his own defense against Tabatha, should he ever need it.”

  My chest constricts, and I look up at Tabatha. “Why would your personal driver have this truck?” I ask her, my voice wobbly as the connection starts to form. “Answer me!”

  Her eyes flash, and she glances between me and Gage. “Don’t listen to him, Remi. You know he’s a liar. He used you, and he’s doing it again.”

  Gage turns toward me and takes my hand. “There’s only one explanation. Think about it.” His blue eyes sear through me, forcing me to see the truth.

  I swallow down the burning lump in my throat. I let the phone fall to the hardwood floor. I can’t believe this is happening. It makes no sense.

  “Marvin was instructed to run a car off the road,” Gage says. “But there was only supposed to be one person in that car, isn’t that true, Tabatha? You didn’t realize that Mary St. James was picking up her daughter that night, that Remi would be a passenger.”

  Tabatha turns devastated eyes on me, her hands ringing the skirt of her gown. “I never meant for you to get hurt,” she says, and my stomach pitches.

  The others lingering in the hallway move into the room, the Saints forming a semi-circle around us. Their faces reflect the shock and horror that I’m feeling at Tabatha’s wild confession.

  “But in the end,” Gage continues, “your plan still worked. Remi’s mother didn’t leave the hospital alive, and you had what you wanted. Lesley’s biological sister needed a place to start over. With your help, her grandmother, Martha St. James, left her disowned son an inheritance that insured he had to move to Crescent Valley to claim it.”

  My hand goes to my stomach. Tabatha told me she handled my grandmother’s affairs… My head is spinning so fast, I can’t link all the pieces together. But Gage has done the work for me. He’s put the puzzle pieces together, and the picture forming is a hideous and twisted resemblance of my life for the past year.

  I swallow the bile trying to claw its way up my throat and stare at Tabatha. Questions and accusations fight for dominance within me, but I can’t voice any of it. I walk toward her and, stopping so close I can see the specs of gold in her eyes, slap her face.

  Her head whips to the side, but she quickly rights herself and reaches out for me. “Lesley, I did it all for us. So we could start over…be together.”

  When I raise my hand to strike her again, someone catches my wrist. “Let it go for now…” Rush says, as he pulls me away from her.

  I try to wriggle out of Rush’s hold, but he picks me up around the waist. “Let me go…” I shout. “Let me kill her!”

  “Shh,” Rush coos in my ear as he brings me against his chest. “Palmer is still recording,” he says in a hushed tone. “Let that bitch dig her own grave, Remi.”

  Gage takes my place to stand in front of Tabatha. “It’s all over, chairwoman. The police are on their way up.”

  Her eyes alight on him with seething rage. “I knew you would hurt her in time, Gage. Just like you hurt Lesley. You’re an Astor man. It’s in your blood. Just remember, it didn’t take much convincing on my part to encourage Remi to turn against you.”

  Sawyer is the one to respond. “And what did I do to deserve your wrath?” she asks honestly. “I loved Lesley. She was my friend.”

  Tabatha scoffs. “None of you were truly her friends.” She looks around at the members of the Broken Saints. “You toyed with her for your own sick amusement, then you broke her spirit.” She looks at the floor. “She wasn’t strong enough…that was my fault. I had coddled her.” She lifts her head, her wild eyes finding me. “But not Remi. She had already survived so much, was so strong. I was going to do it right this time.”

  Her confession slithers through me like an oily film, and I ease away from Rush. “That’s not how a parent protects their child,” I say. “You’re selfish, Tabatha.”

  Her smile is sad. “Don’t you see, Remi. You needed to be the one to conspire against Gage. To take him and all these other petulant brats down and punish them. You needed to learn who you really are—a de Pont.”

  She’s absolutely delusional. I turn out of Rush’s hold. “I am not a de Pont,” I spit the words. “I’m a St. James. My sister was a St. James by birth. Gage and Sawyer didn’t destroy Lesley. You destroyed her the same way you destroyed my family. Admit it, you bitch!”

  Tabatha flinches at my harsh tone. I have no idea where these words are coming from—but it hits me all at once. What Tabatha was confessing to me earlier, when she saw me as her daughter.

  I wipe the angry tear tracks from my face. “It wasn’t Marvin here that night,” I say, as the realization comes to me. “It was you. You came here that night. You heard the fight between Lesley, Gage, and Sawyer. You knew that Lesley had discovered the truth about herself, or rather, that Gage had revealed it to her.”

  She sucks in a fortifying breath. “She was never supposed to learn about her adoption,” she says, not denying it.

  I nod, putting more of the night together. “But she did, and when she demanded to know who her birth mother was, you panicked. You followed her out onto the balcony, where you pleaded with her.” I take a step closer and tilt my head. “What happened out there, Tabatha?”

  She clasps her hands together and walks toward the glass doors. As she looks out over the town, she pushes the doors open, allowing the cool air to swirl inside the stuffy room. “All I wanted was to make it go back to the way it was before,” she says. “Before Gage ruined everything between us, before she loathed me…like I was some stranger.”

  I inch her way. “What did you say to her that night?”

  She crosses her arms over her chest, shielding herself against the chilly air or her memories, or maybe both. “Lesley threatened to leave me,” she says, her voice too low. “I could not, would not accept that. She said if I didn’t tell her who her real mother was, then she would leave and find out for herself.”

  I watch Tabatha walk out onto the balcony, her steps slow and precise, as if she’s reliving her nightmare. “I think I hated Mary St. James in that moment more than I ever had before. She gave birth to my Lesley; she could do the thing that I most longed for…and then she gave her up like she was nothing.” She whips around to face me. “All so Martha wouldn’t disown her son, and yet, Mary was the selfish one. She got her man, and a new baby girl. And I couldn’t let Lesley…” She turns her head to the side, her body visibly shaking.

  When her eyes find me again, I know the truth. She doesn’t even need to confess what happened out here on this balcony… Her disturbed eyes reveal it all.

  I dare a step closer. “It wasn’t an accident, was it?” I say.

  Tabatha inhales a deep breath, lifting her face to the brisk night air. “I knew what I’d done the moment Lesley disap
peared from my grasp and went over the railing. But it was too late then. One split second…one moment of loss…and I could never take it back.” She looks down at her hands, lost in that eternal moment.

  Maybe it was an accident, or a rash decision made in a heated moment of anger…and maybe I could forgive her for taking my sister away in such a cruel manner…but my mother was absolutely no split-second act.

  Tabatha de Pont meticulously and methodically plotted my mother’s demise so she could enter my life as my new mother. As sick and demented as it is, I’m not sure prison is a suiting punishment for her.

  “You deserve a far worse fate than my mother and sister,” I say, my voice raw with spent emotion. “I just…I have no idea what that is.”

  As I turn to leave, Tabatha reaches out for me.

  It happens so fast then. I see the police officers entering the penthouse. Gage’s eyes go wide and he moves toward me. Tabatha’s arm surrounds my shoulders and she falls back against the railing…

  There’s a brief struggle—I wail my arms against her grip; Tabatha clasps on to my hands—and then the piercing scream that rends the callous air.

  Our eyes connect, then I watch in shocked silence as Tabatha de Pont goes over the balcony.

  Muted sounds envelop me, the world is muffled as a flood of bodies crowd around me. I feel Gage pulling me away from the ledge, and I look up into his pale-blue eyes.

  Within seconds, the officers have everyone removed from the balcony and are calling in the accident.

  Accident.

  Was it an accident? Yes—I replay the moment back. Tabatha wanted us to be together in the end. She made a choice…but I fought free.

  I look down at my hand. The silver ring is missing.

  “She took my ring…” I trail off, amending my thoughts. “She took Lesley’s ring with her,” I say.

  Gage wraps his arm around my waist and leads me farther into the penthouse. “Stop recording,” he says to Palmer as we pass her. “It’s over.”