IT'S the night before the heirs week long deadly sins party kicks off. The week of the darkest haunting. The week of Halloween. The week when all the deadliest sins are set free to play, and the veneer everyone wears is dropped and the monstrous desires that hide deep inside are finally brought to the surface.

But this week isn't just about the parties. It's also the week of the infamous fire. It only makes sense they celebrate and get wasted on the week when they took someone's life. Because who wants to remember something sad like death when they can focus on a week long bender instead?

If I was any normal student I would be busy planning my outfits to try and attend as many nights as I can, but especially lust night. It's the culmination of the entire week of debauchery and sinning. It's the biggest event of the year for students and truly the wildest night.

There's no part of me that will be attending any of the festivities, but at this moment I'd rather be lingerie shopping with Elizabeth in the city instead of sitting at home about to have weekly dinner with my family.

My fingers play with the necklace hooked around my neck absentmindedly as I sit in the living room. I haven't been able to stop touching the delicate chain since I found out who it came from. I want to be shocked, but somehow at the same time I'm not because if it had to come from anywhere or anyone of course it came from Preston Rothwell.

But I shake my head because I can't think about him anymore. I can't. So I push the thought of him aside and try to focus. My laptop is next to me and my textbook lies beside it wide open, but I've barely looked at it to be honest.

Ever since I left for college I've found it hard to study and focus when I'm back at home. I feel judged and like I'm sitting underneath a microscope waiting for my father to tell me what I'm doing wrong and my mother to instantly agree with him.

"Jamie, come help me!" my mother calls out to me from the kitchen. I roll my eyes at the nickname and stand with a silent huff as I head into the large chef's kitchen with my hands curled into fists. Nothing has even happened but I'm already feeling the need to be on the defense.

I spot my mother cutting up some vegetables for her salad and I slide into the stool by her side as the smell of roast lamb and potatoes fills the air. It smells like warmth and comfort, which is funny cause this house is least comforting place that's ever existed.

"What?" I ask with an annoyed sigh.

Her hazel eyes lock on me with a stern glare. "Did you forget all your manners?" she chastises with a quick dice of her knife. 

"What do you need?" I ask again using all the strength in my body to not roll my eyes and not sound as irritated as I feel.

"I just wanted to know how you're doing? How are your friends...and classes...and such?" she inquires but it doesn't take a genius to hear the real question sleuthing behind her fake niceties.

I grab the small mixing bowl and whisk the dressing not wanting the oil to separate in the vinaigrette. My father always gets all pissy when it does because everything that leaves this kitchen should be in perfect condition when it meets him at the table. Even when he doesn't lift a finger to help.

"I'm doing fine, mother," I tell her. "Anna and Liz are great as well. And you can ask about me about my tutoring with Preston if you want instead of getting your intel from Aiden," I say pointedly calling her out.

We haven't even had contact since yesterday at the library, but again no one needs to know about that. And a day doesn't sound like much. To anyone else it really sounds like nothing. But no one knows that before everything went to shit he contacted me daily. Even when I didn't want him to. Even if I ignored for days on end he would text me. Always suggesting books he thinks I would like. Sending me links to articles he thinks I would find interesting. Texting me and asking me what I need help on or what we can work on next.

He was always pushing me. Always encouraging me. Always.

But no one needs to know that.

My mother's lips purse at my tone. I'm boarding on disrespectful in her eyes and I know it, but I can't stop.

"Well is this tutoring actually helping or are you after him for other reasons?" she asks, avoiding my gaze.

"And what other reasons would there be?" I push, not wanting to believe the tiny voice in my head that my mother would assume what she is assuming.

"He is attractive and has money and...connections," she alludes slowly.

My eyes narrow. "We also have money and connections," I point out as my skin begins to burn at her blatant and totally incorrect insinuations.

"Yes, but being with him would open up new doors," she comments, making anger strike me like a hot bolt of lightning.

I drop the whisk and step away from the counter before I end up throwing it at my mother. "I'm not dating Preston. And even if I was it wouldn't be for his connections. But just so you aren't up late at night fretting over your daughter marrying for status over love like some people..." I trail with emphasis and a raise of a single eyebrow making sure she catches my drift. "I got an A+ on my midterm. So yeah I think the tutoring is helping."

I grab the bread basket and walk out to the dining room table to see my brother sitting in his usual spot. His brown hair matches mine, but his green eyes look tired. I can't help but worry about him even though he's blown me off every time I see him. I hate that I care more about him than he cares about me. I hate that I care at all.

"You got an A on your midterm?" he inquires, having obviously overheard my conversation.

I set the basket down on the table with a thud. "Didn't you ever learn that eavesdropping is rude?"

"Only all the time as a kid." A short curt laugh bubbles up from my throat without notice. We got in so much trouble from listening to our parents' conversations together. We would hide right by the door and listen about adult problems we could barely comprehend. But it was something we did together and the memory makes my chest clench wishing we were still those kids taking on the world together. Brother and sister side by side.

I slide into my seat next to him. "I did get an A," I confirm.

His eyes widen. "Wow, that's awesome James. I've heard how hard that class can be," he says clearly impressed. I don't know whether to be flattered or offended by his reaction.

"Professor Hilbert is amazing, but she doesn't water anything down that's for sure," I tell him in caution knowing he will be taking the class next year as well.

"Glad it's working out with Preston then," he says but I can see the questioning in his gaze and I wonder if he knows the truth.

"What's working out with Preston?" Our father's voice booms out from the hallway before he emerges with a crystal tumbler of gin in his hand.

It takes everything within me to not sink down in my seat an inch. But no. I'm better than that. I'm stronger than that. Preston once told me to not let my parents hold me down, and I won't. So I sit up taller, taller than I feel at the moment, and meet his gaze, hating that I share his eyes. His eyes are cold and frightening, so unlike what I see in the mirror every day, and it makes me wish we didn't share this trait.

"I asked a question," he pushes with his signature tone of displeasure that always rings out when he's around me.

I don't wince at his tone. Instead I meet his gaze and let the skin around my eyes crinkle as a harsh glare morphs onto my face.

"Remember Preston mentioned us studying together," I say trying to keep my voice casual just the way he had when he came over for dinner that night. I almost crack a smile at the memory of him dropping that we are "study buddies" to my father.

"Studying together? Or tutoring?" His words begin to feel like an interrogation and it makes my skin crawl.

"What's the difference?" I bite back.

"One is simply working on different classes together. The other is him teaching you because you can't cut it in class." His words might as well cut right through me with how sharp they are.

My teeth nash together with such force I fear I might crack a tooth from the pressure. "Asking for help isn't a bad thing." It's the truth, but I hate saying it with the knowledge that he's only going to shit on the ideal that took me so long to come to terms with.

"But is it really help? Or is he just giving you the answers in exchange for...what's a nice way of saying this? Favors."

I almost want to laugh at the way he says he tried to find a nice way to suggest his only daughter is prostituting herself out. And the entire thing just ends up pissing me off even more. So instead of laughter it's rage that erupts from within me with a vigor I didn't even know was possible.

My body coils with barely tamed emotions. "He's not giving me any answers. I am the one putting in the extra work and I'm the one who got a nearly perfect score on my midterm."

"Nearly perfect," he drawls as if it's a dismal mark I received.

I could use this moment to inform my father that Preston isn't even my tutor anymore, but then he would just find another way to attack me. Either way I would be in the wrong. Because in his eyes I'm always wrong. As a female I was born wrong, and nothing I ever do will be good enough for him.

My soul wants to crack straight down the middle. I want to completely break and let all the walls I spent years meticulously constructing build back up and save me from the pain of moments like these.

But in a shocking move that surprises even myself I don't.

Instead I clasp my hand around the small Joan of Arc charm that typically rests against the skin of my chest and squeeze the pendant tightly.

And with a new surge of strength I refuse to stand down and let him speak to me that way.

"I kicked ass on that midterm. So much so that the professor is setting me up to meet with a firm," I tell him with my chin held high.

He scoffs. "That dirty hippy?"

"You mean a former ADA and the youngest senior partner to ever join Dane and Jolene in Manhattan. Your biggest competitor. Is that why you're looking to expand? Feeling threatened?" I poke knowing this move will be the catalyst to a reaction that could end me, but I hold my resolve in the face of it all. Because I'm tired of be walked all over. I'm tired of feeling lesser.

I'm tired and I'm fucking done.

My father erupts to his feet, his face red with anger. "How dare you speak to me that way?" he roars at me, but I stand my ground even though it feels like it may fall away from underneath me at any point.

The dining room door swings open to reveal my mother, but I don't let her presence distract me because this fight, this moment, was a long time coming. It's been twenty-one years in the making.

"How dare you insinuate I would use my body to get ahead!" I shout back jumping to my feet as well. I can feel my brother's gaze on me wide and frozen in indisputable shock, but I don't give him the time of day.

"I call them like I see them," he throws the dig out like a dart but his aim is off because it doesn't hit like he wants it to.

In fact it completely misses.

"And so do I," I taunt back with a smirk that has my mother gasping as if I cursed him out instead of calling my own father out on his misogynistic bullshit.

"I will not be talked to like this in my own home," he barks so aggressively I can feel every past version of myself flinch.

But I don't. This version right now stands tall in the face of the man who she once feared.

"Then leave," I tell him calmly as I cross my arms over my chest. "Because I'm not going anywhere tonight."

He leans across the table and points a finger at me. "Continue to push me Jameson and I'll issue a restraining order," he threatens but it's empty. The weight behind his words mean nothing to me anymore.

"And have that on the public record? I wonder what future clients will say," I feign as I lift my fingers to tap against my chin.

"It will do more damage to your future than mine," he attempts but I don't bite. Because we both know the truth.

"Not when I explain to them what a colossal asshole you are, and considering you treat most women like you treat me I don't see this really harming my future. But it sure will harm yours for any female partners at your firm."

"Don't you dare threaten me," he states darkly.

"I didn't hear a threat. Did you hear one Aiden?" But I don't even let my brother speak. "Nope. Me either. Just some simply stated facts."

My father's face contorts in a mess of disgust and pure unadulterated hatred and I won't lie to see those emotions so openly in his eyes hurts. But not anymore than he's continued to treat me my entire life. So I let it sting for a single lingering second before I move on.

He storms out of the dining room and I hear the garage door slam shut. My mother jumps at the sound and finally becomes unfrozen from her spot and begins to chase after her husband like the dutiful wife she is.

But I don't miss the way she pauses and looks over her shoulder and gives me a small smile. It's quick. If I were to blink I would've missed it. But I did see it. The secret smile. The smile that told me I haven't completely lost my mother. The smile that told me she was proud of me for standing up to him. That smile that will play over and over in my head for years to come. It wasn't much. In fact the smile for most would never make up for her years of taking his side and remaining silent while he verbally harassed me. But for me it's what I needed to know that she was still in there. To know I do still have a mom. To know that maybe one day we will have a chance to have a normal relationship. Maybe one day we can heal.

I slowly lower myself back into my seat and take a sip of the water needing to wet my very dry throat. I feel as if the last half hour was a dream. That I imagined every minute and second. Maybe that's because growing up all I did was dream about the day I would finally tell my father off, and I finally did it.

"Holy shit," Aiden finally mutters, breaking the silence between us.

I turn to look at him to see a massive smile stretched across his face.

"Have something to say?"

"To you? Right now? Nope," he mimics me and the way I called him out.

"You're not funny Aid," I state dryly.

"Not trying to be, but that was not something I was expecting to ever see..." he trails in disbelief.

I can tell he wants to say more. "But?" I prompt.

His eyes meet mine and they soften. "But I'm glad you did it." The words cause a breath to lodge in my throat.

"Really?" I ask softly.

"Yeah, dad needed a taste of what he hands out and he's always dished to you the hardest," he comments and something about him finally acknowledging the way our father treats me makes me release a heavy sigh in relief. But that breath quickly turns to intense irritation because he wasn't obvious all these years. He saw. He was aware. I mean I knew he was, he was usually around for when I got my ass handed to me, but I used to excuse it away because it made me believe that maybe my little brother hadn't turned on me completely.

But now I know, and the feeling that resides in me isn't great.

"I know he has. Not that you've ever stepped in to help," I say bitterly.

"James, don't turn this on me. Dad isn't easy on me either," he insists and it makes me want to punch him in his stupid face.

I choke out a dry laugh. "Sure."

"You don't know the pressure on me either. I'm not comparing because I do know it's nothing like what he's done to you, but you also don't know what he's like with me behind closed doors either," he explains with a level of distress I'm not used to seeing from him.

"Fair. I guess I don't know you behind those doors either," I play back.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Exactly what I said, Aid. You tell me nothing. You lock me out. But I know something's going on," I declare.

"Nothing's going on—"

I cut him off not wanting to listen to more lies. "I followed you into the church. I heard he's out. I know things are happening and...and I just need to know what your level of involvement is. I need to know how much I should worry about my brother," I say, hating the way my voice breaks and cracks and shows my weakness. Shows how much I care for him.

Aiden leans forward and places his hand over mine. I can't remember the last time he comforted me, and it brings tears to my eyes because I didn't realize until now how much I needed it from him. I needed to see he still cared. That he wasn't completely lost to the heirs. That he wasn't completely lost to me.

"You don't need to worry about me," he whispers.

My teeth chew on my bottom lip. "That's easier to say than to do," I point out.

"I know. I know," he acknowledges.

Before I can stop them the words, the truth, is spilling out from me. "Preston isn't tutoring me anymore."

"He isn't?"

I know my brother isn't in the inside circle of the heirs, but he's still in more than anyone else. And the fact that Preston didn't inform him is a little weird to me. But then again it seems like he didn't tell them much about me or our sessions in general. He says I meant, mean, something. But I still don't trust him.

"No, he's not," I say with a shake of my head.

Aiden's eyes suddenly harden. "He didn't do anything to you, did he?"

A smile touches my lips at his reaction. "No. He didn't. Why would you kick his ass?"

Aiden shrugs. "I could try."

A chuckle escapes me. "Thanks for that."

A feeling I don't want to feel floods my every bone. Hope. It's hope. Hope that maybe one day we can be like we once were, or maybe even an ounce of what we once were. Because after everything I don't know if we could ever pretend the past doesn't exist, but we can maybe move forward and build something better for the future.

"Why didn't you just tell dad then that he isn't helping you anymore?" he questions with confusion painted across his face.

"Because it wouldn't have changed his view of me anyways and you know it."

He nods slowly in agreement. "Is it wrong to say I'm kind of happy you aren't around Preston anymore?"

"Why are you friends with someone if you're scared of them?"

Aiden's jaw locks. "I'm not scared of him."

"Then what are you scared of?" I push, needing to know more. "You can open up to me, I'm your sister. I know Nathaniel—"

He shoots up from his chair eerily similar to how our father did when he went off on me earlier and it makes my body tense up. "You know nothing Jameson! So shut up and just stay away from Preston and the rest of them. Just stay away," he yells with a glare so hard it takes any hope I had and steals it all away in a single heartbreaking moment.

"Aiden—"

"I'm headed back to school. Just leave it alone," he says and then he turns away and he disappears.

He leaves. I hear the front door shut and I can hear the roar of his engine from out front as I sit all alone in the empty house.

I sit and I sit as time passes. So much time passes that the staff finally comes to take down the dining room table plate by plate and spoon by spoon. I watch it get set back to it's everyday glory, but I still remain.

My emotions are beyond all over the place from the evening, and I can't make sense of any