BITTER PRINCE | A DARK COLLEGE BULLY ROMANCE: HEIRS OF HAVOC

by Winters, Vanessa

  Because I’d be his savior, just like he was mine.

  33

  Brooklyn

  I had gotten everyone to agree to meet in Jude’s room at noon. The assistants hadn’t seemed to care less about why he wanted to meet with everyone, but Janey had taken a malicious joy in my announcement that Jude wanted to speak with her.

  “Screwed this up too, haven’t you?” she said snidely when I told her.

  I didn’t answer, because I knew in the end I’d have the last laugh.

  “We’ll see the back of you soon enough. I’m sure of it! And I’ll be ready to have a nice party when we do.”

  I took that to mean it would be less of a goodbye party and more of a good riddance party. Her words rolled right off my back as I prepared to sneak into the congresswoman’s office. I was still reeling at the realization that my parents had known the twins’ father, and I was desperate to figure out how.

  I loitered downstairs until noon, switching laundry and lingering over the folding of Jude’s and Lila’s clothes. I played it cool when Janey left to go upstairs, but when I heard three pairs of heels head up, I snuck through the kitchen and into the hallway in time to see the congresswoman on the stairs, her two assistants following her. Lila was supposed to sit in my room with the door cracked and watch the door. She would call me if anyone left. My phone was on vibrate and tucked into my bra to ensure I wouldn’t miss it.

  Our hopes were all riding on whether or not she would have locked up her office before she went upstairs. We were hoping the answer was no, because she would assume she would be back in just a few minutes. I put a hand to the knob and crossed my fingers.

  Please be unlocked. Please be unlocked. Please be unlocked.

  It turned easily, and I was in.

  Yes!

  I stepped inside and shot a text to Lila to let her know before tucking my phone back away. But, now that I was in here, I wasn’t sure where to start. The congresswoman’s office was massive, with a desk dominating the space. So, I walked over and I took a quick poke through the papers on top. They all looked mundane, though. The drawers were also similarly uninteresting. Folders and legal pads that were all largely empty sat in their rightful places and a box of high-end cigars were stashed away in the middle. And in the bottom drawer, a heap of those slim silver recorders. I pulled one out and hit ‘play,’ hoping there would be something there.

  But, there was no data on it.

  I pulled out a few more at random and tried those—all wiped clean. Or, unused. I wasn’t sure, but either way, they didn’t have anything on them. Damn. Then, my eyes settled on the congresswoman’s computer.

  If they had been wiped, they were probably backed up onto her computer. I glanced at it longingly but didn’t dare. Who knew what kind of security she had on that thing. One wrong touch, and this house would probably light up with red flashing lights, signaling my transgressions for the entire estate to behold.

  How could there be so little paperwork in this place? It boggled my mind.

  Unless…

  I looked quickly around the room, searching for a filing cabinet. Nothing. But across the room was a door. I went over and pulled it open. Score! There was a heavy oak filing cabinet, absolutely massive, with neatly typed labels denoting letters on each. I noticed one of the drawers was half-open, and a pile of papers rested on top, as if someone had been interrupted right in the middle of filing them. Then, I saw the lock on the door. We had been in luck. If we hadn’t chosen the time correctly, this door would have been locked shut.

  “Time to go searching,” I murmured to myself.

  I started with J. There, in a file in this creepy closet, were two files with my last name. One was James, Brooklyn, and behind it, James, Ed, and Marissa. My heart stopped. I pulled my parents’ file first. It was thick. The first thing I saw was a stack of town hall notes, with my parents’ names as speakers. They were discussing the park. The same park I had written my article about a few months back that the congresswoman had destroyed to make a factory. This must have been before the park had been razed to the ground. They were discussing the congresswoman’s ties to the factory and accusing her of trying to get rid of the park to make money.

  I paged through months of town hall meeting notes, knowing I didn’t have much time. Each meeting seemed to have my parents pitted against the congresswoman. Sometimes for big issues like the park, sometimes for smaller issues like expanding her manor onto townland. The dates went back years before they died, when I would have been far too young to know what was going on.

  The last page of the file was short, though. It was a photocopy of two death certificates on the front and back, and a newspaper clipping about the accident. Those things I had already seen. I closed the file, thinking quickly.

  It couldn’t be.

  The first thought that came to my mind made me so sick I couldn’t see straight. I quickly put the file folder back into the drawer and reached for my own, desperate to know what it held. Desperate to push the insane thought away I’d just had. However, I stopped myself. I needed to look into the twins’ father.

  He was just as much of a player in this as anyone else, after all.

  I opened the drawer marked with a C and flipped through, looking for Carlisle. I saw Carlisle, Jude; Carlisle, Lila; and Carlisle, Alexandra, but that was it.

  I shot a quick text to Lila.

  Me:

  What was your father’s first name?

  She responded right away.

  Lila:

  Joseph.

  I looked again but didn’t see anything. Another text buzzed.

  Me:

  But his last name wasn’t Carlisle. Mother kept her last name. His full name: Joseph Carter.

  I looked again, and sure enough, there it was. Carter, Joseph. I pulled it out. Most of it was straightforward, things you would expect a spouse to have on hand. Birth certificate, Social Security card, healthcare paperwork. I found his death certificate as well and noted that it was signed by the same person who had signed my parents’. Maybe that was important, maybe not.

  Then I found something that surprised me.

  PETITION FOR DIVORCE, read the top of the page in bold letters.

  IN THE MATTER OF THE MARRIAGE OF

  Petitioner: Joseph Carter

  And

  Respondent: Alexandra Carlisle

  AND IN THE INTEREST OF:

  Lila Carlisle and 2. Jude Carlisle

  I quickly took a picture of the page with my phone. The petitioner had been their dad. That meant that he had requested the divorce. I texted Lila.

  Me:

  Did you know your dad had filed for divorce?

  She responded with two texts back to back.

  Lila:

  No???

  Then, another message quickly rolled through from her end.

  Lila:

  Get out, they’re coming down now!

  Shit. I shoved the paper back into the folder and went to put it back. In my rush, I couldn’t remember how to alphabetize correctly. Finally, I found the right place and slotted the Carter, Joseph file in, closing the drawer. I ran out of the closet and was at the door when I heard the congresswoman’s voice on the other side, getting closer.

  I sprinted back into the closet, pulling the door shut behind me. I looked around with the light on my phone, was there somewhere to hide in case they opened the door? There was just enough space between the cabinet and the back wall of the closet for me to squeeze into. I sucked in and shoved myself behind it, rocking the cabinet a little, right as the door to the office opened. I heard those three pairs of heels clicking on the floor.

  “That was an utter waste of time,” I heard the congressman say.

  I held my breath and took out my phone to turn it on silent and text Lila.

  Me:

  I didn’t make it out. In closet.

  “My son is a waste of space,” she continued. I felt fury rise in my chest. What kind of a mother
could say that? “I’ll be glad to have him appropriately married and settled with Margeaux. That girl is sure to keep him in check.”

  I checked my phone, and thankfully I had a text back.

  Lila:

  I’ll draw them out. When I do, climb out the window. I’ll yell ‘stop’ twice as your signal to go.

  Just then, the door to the closet opened. I flipped my phone against my chest, hoping whoever it was hadn’t seen a little flash of light from behind the cabinet. I heard a drawer pull open and the sounds of paper being shuffled.

  “Was that closet door not locked, Ann?” the congresswoman asked sharply.

  “No, Congresswoman. We were only gone a short while, and I was in the middle of filing, so I left it open.”

  “Ann, that door is to always be locked, do you hear me? No matter how long we are gone, or what you’re in the middle of, you keep that door locked. Did you lock the office door?”

  A short pause followed. “Dammit, Ann! Always lock my doors, do you hear me?”

  I prayed that when Lila lured them out, Ann would forget to lock the closet door. Otherwise, I was really screwed. My legs were shaking from the effort of keeping myself in position and still when I heard a knock at the office door.

  Lila’s voice rushed relief through my veins. “Mother, can we discuss the luncheon today? I have a few questions and would appreciate your input.”

  The congresswoman sighed heavily. “Do you really need me for this?”

  “I know it’s a bother, but I made up a tray of coffee and snacks in the dining room to make up for it.”

  “Fine. I could use a coffee. Ann, stay here and keep working on the documents.”

  Shit.

  I heard Lila leave with the congresswoman and one of the assistants. What was I going to do now? Then I heard the outer door open again.

  “Actually, Ann, she’s asking for you to join us now. Can you?” It was Lila. Genius to not say it in front of the congresswoman, who could have told her ‘no.’

  Ann walked quickly out of the room and I heard the door close.

  “Stop! Stop!” I heard Lila yell outside the door.

  “What? What is it?” Ann asked.

  I slid out from behind the filing cabinet, unlocked and yanked open the window, hopping onto the ground. I shut the window behind me and dropped to the ground, pressed against the cold outside of the building as I caught my breath.

  I gave myself a second to pull myself together before Lila’s voice sounded off in the distance.

  “Sorry about that,” I heard from inside. “I just remembered I got your name mixed up. She was asking for someone else. You can get back to work in here.”

  The office door opened and closed again, and Ann walked across the room, muttering, ‘imbecile’ under her breath.

  I texted Lila a thumbs-up and headed upstairs.

  But, my initial thought still haunted me so much I didn’t dare utter it into existence for fear it might be true. I knew one thing was for certain, though:

  Whatever happened, the congresswoman wouldn’t ever get away with it.

  Not on my watch.

  34

  Lila

  Mother agreed to let me borrow jewelry for the luncheon. And because I’d already wasted her time, I offered to run up and fetch it myself.

  She agreed. “I swear, you and your brother are exhausting me today. Stay out from underfoot for the rest of the day,” she added, as if I were a toddler playing on the floor in front of her.

  I looked at her before I left, sizing up the woman who had raised me. Was I really going to search her safe for evidence of some kind of crime? I searched my heart for any softening toward her, any bit of love at all, and found none. I had no memories of her reading me to sleep, no memory of gentle hands guiding me through life.

  I couldn’t even remember the last time we had hugged.

  “What?” she snapped when I hadn’t left. “Did you not hear me? I have things to do, Lila.”

  I smiled. “Sorry, Mother.”

  I crossed the main part of the house to her living quarters. She stayed on the main level, with a suite of three rooms. I bypassed her bedroom and headed to the room she had had custom-built for dressing. It was styled like a fitting room, with long mirrors, and shelves upon shelves of clothing, jewelry, and shoes. Mother didn’t trust anyone, though, so she kept her good stuff locked up safely.

  And I knew exactly where that was.

  One of the full-length mirrors, if pulled correctly, opened away from the wall to reveal a mounted safe. I typed in the code and the door opened effortlessly. I had been in here before, of course. Mother needed us to look our best so that we presented the best image, and so didn’t begrudge the sharing of her nicer jewelry, seeing it as a positive reflection of herself. The familiar lines of pearls, gold and silver necklaces, and trays of rings looked exactly the same.

  Would there really be something else here?

  I searched carefully, trying not to leave smudges or anything out of order. But, there was nothing. All jewelry, and nothing else. There had to be something I was missing. I took a step back and assessed the safe again, my arms folded over my chest. It seemed a little deeper than it was once you looked inside. So, I piled up the trays of rings and placed them on the floor before feeling around the bottom of the safe.

  I knocked and listened, and for some reason, it sounded hollow.

  Here we go.

  I pressed my fingertips into each corner by turn, listening closely. When I hit the back-right corner, there was a little pop, and the floor lifted. Yes!

  I pulled out the false bottom, and below it, there were only two things: a picture from what looked like the same night as the one we had upstairs with my dad and Brooklyn’s parents. Except this time, it became clear who had taken the last picture. Looking out of place, I saw my mother’s image with Brooklyn’s mother and my father, mostly out of frame. She held no plastic cup, no paper plate of grilled food, and she was dressed like she was going to the office, instead of in the casualwear the rest of them were in—as if she had shown up late, or unexpectedly. I assumed Brooklyn’s dad had taken this one.

  I took a picture of the photo with my phone to show the other two.

  The other thing inside the hollowed-out concavity was a wooden box. I lifted the lid carefully, hoping not to break it in the process. I mean, it seemed to small. So flimsy, compared to everything else Mother owed. And when I flipped it open, I saw it was lined with red velvet, making what was inside that much more incongruous.

  Lying against the crushed red velvet was some kind of dirty nut or bolt of some kind. It was massive, about the size of my fist, if not bigger. What could it possibly be? And why was it so carefully saved? I looked over my shoulder. I had already been in here too long. I knew it was a risk, but I needed to show Jude and Brooklyn this.

  I needed help figuring out what it was.

  I closed the box and put it down before putting everything back exactly as it was. I made sure the false bottom of the safe was secure and put the ring trays back. Then I pulled off my sweater, wrapped it around the box, and took off to Jude’s room.

  When I entered, he was laying back, Brooklyn’s phone next to his head. It was still playing the recording, and still silent.

  “Still nothing,” he said without looking up. “I had Brooklyn leave it here after she got back from snooping downstairs so I could listen to the rest while you guys were doing all the fun stuff. I hate being stuck here, unable to help. That was a close call she had downstairs. Nice job getting her out of it.”

  “I found something,” I said, closing the door behind me.

  He sat up quickly with a grunt. “What? In the safe?”

  “Yes.” I pulled the box out of my sweater and showed it to him. “There was a false bottom.”

  The door opened behind me, making us both jump guiltily. We relaxed when we saw it was Brooklyn.

  “I saw you come in and wanted to talk,” she said.


  I pointed. “Lock the door. I found something.”

  She complied and came over to us, looking down at the box as I held it up.

  “This was in mother’s safe. Hidden under a false bottom. There was also a picture of the same night as the one I showed you before.” I handed her my phone, tilting it so Jude could see as well.

  Brooklyn sucked in her breath at the sight of her mother and mine. “Your mother had taken the last picture.”

  I nodded in agreement. “What else do you notice? She looks so out of place, right? Like she wasn’t supposed to be there that night.” I opened the box and placed it between the two of them. “I also found this.”

  They looked at it blankly.

  “What is it?” Jude asked.

  “I have no idea. I was hoping you two would know.”

  Jude pulled out his phone. “We’ll do a reverse image search,” he said, aiming his camera at the thing in the box.

  We all leaned over his phone, watching as the results loaded.

  A matching picture came up right away, of something that looked nearly identical to the one we were looking at.

  “That’s it!” I said. “A… Jesus nut? Click on it and see what it says.”

  “Okay.” Jude clicked the Wikipedia link and read what it said aloud. “‘Jesus nut, or Jesus pin, is a slang term for the main rotor retaining nut, which holds the main rotor to the mast of some helicopters… component that represents a single point of failure….” He trailed off and looked up at us. “Holy fuck.”

  “Why would she have a helicopter part?” I said, stepping back from the box, suddenly not wanting to look at it.

  “The part… the pictures… the divorce papers... the secrecy,” Jude said. “Did our mother murder a helicopter full of people?”

  And when I looked over at Brooklyn, the pale complexion of her skin told me she had been thinking the exact same thing.

  Was our mother responsible for the crash that night?

  35