“Story—”
“What?” I demanded. “Am I lying?”
Silence fell across the room.
“You all always say you’re better than them. You say you aren’t cruel and you treat people with dignity, but having lived up there for a while now, I can tell you you’re all exactly the same.”
They shifted on their feet.
“I’m not here to make you feel bad, as if I’m any better. Because if you read my letter, you know I’m not. I think we’re on the same side.”
One by one, their eyes found mine.
“I need help,” I said. “I know you keep recordings and evidence, that you have proof of the whispers we hear…I have firsthand experience of that.” I looked away, pushing my tongue into my cheek.
The whole reason that video of me and Grayson existed was because of them.
I’d hated it, been violated by it, but in the end, it might save us.
“What else do you have? Do you have anything on Beryl Crowne? I want to put him away for what he’s done to Josephine and anyone else.”
They shared looks, shifting on their feet. It was one thing to go after me, but Beryl Crowne? Even if they did have proof, it’s like asking them to go on a suicide mission.
“I’m done living like them,” I said. “This place used to be my home, and it will be my home again. There will be laughter, and warmth, and love in Crowne Hall. Will you help me?”
Jane stepped forward. “We have everything.”
Seventy-One
GRAY
Somewhere, hidden beneath the feathered masks, my wife was alive. Every laugh, every flutter of a mask, my heart jolted.
Alive.
Alive and here.
The clinking of champagne glasses started out small, then grew until everyone was silenced. My grandfather took the stage erected on the sprawling lawn below the terrace. At his back, the iron waves crashed beneath the moonlight, and the occasional swan hissed.
Lynette stood next to him. I was sure Lynette was happy Arthur was dead. That weight around her neck finally gone. She was never a du Lac anyway, not really.
Was it worth it, selling her soul to the devil?
“Tonight is more than my favorite holiday,” my grandfather started. “For over a hundred years, our two families have been at odds, and today, they become one.”
“Grayson, good to see you again.” DA Miller sidled next to me, arms crossed, a drink in one hand.
It wasn’t odd for him to be there; he was invited by my grandfather, after all.
“And you,” I said, eyes still on the stage.
“Everything is ready, the police are on standby…assuming you come through on your end of the bargain.”
I felt DA Miller turn and look at me.
Come through?
This plan was only trust.