Page 72 of Ruthless Kings of Obsession

"Then this girl with pigtails shows up in my life," a small smile plays at Marcus's lips, though his eyes remain distant. "This force of nature who somehow made everything seem possible. She'd sit in the lab with me for hours, asking questions, making observations that sometimes led to breakthrough realizations." His hand comes up to trace patterns on the glass. "She made me believe I could actually help my parents, could find solutions where others saw only dead ends."

Ren shifts in his chair, his previous playfulness is completely gone. "Did you?" he asks softly. "Help them?"

Marcus's reflection shows a flash of something complicated – pride mixed with fear, triumph touched by uncertainty. "I found a temporary cure," he admits, the words barely above a whisper. "Or at least a method that put them both into remission. But I had to keep it secret."

"Why?" The question comes from Ares, his perfect features arranged in genuine confusion.

"Because," Marcus turns from the window, his eyes holding shadows deeper than any of us expected, "some cures are more dangerous than the diseases they fight."

The implications of that statement hang heavy in the air as the sun continues its descent, painting long shadows across the expensive hospital room. I study Marcus's face, seeing new depths to the boy who's been part of our world since childhood. How many secrets has he carried? How many breakthroughs has he hidden for reasons we don't yet understand?

The silence stretches, broken only by Eva's soft breathing and the steady beep of Zander's monitors. Each of us lost in thoughts about the price of knowledge, the weight of secrets, and the unexpected ways our lives have become intertwined.

"She was my Evergreen," Marcus says again, his voice stronger now though still touched by memory, "because she gave me hope when everything else promised only endings. She made me believe in possibilities, in futures that weren't just about loss and decay." His smile carries echoes of old pain. "Even when I thought I'd lose everything, she remained constant – like those trees that stay green no matter what season tries to strip them bare."

"What changed?" I ask into the heavy silence, watching Marcus's reflection in the darkening window. "If you were so close, what made the difference?"

His smirk carries no warmth as he turns to face me. "Your brother."

The name doesn't need to be spoken – we all feel Domino's presence like a shadow in the room. I watch various expressions of displeasure cross my brothers' faces. Even Zander, usually careful to maintain neutral expressions around the topic of our newest King, can't quite hide his instinctive frown.

Our eyes collectively drift to Eva's sleeping form, still curled impossibly small against Zander's side. Her lips are slightly parted in genuine rest – the kind of vulnerable peace she rarely shows when conscious. The sight makes something in my chest ache, remembering all the times Domino stole such moments from her.

Marcus pulls something from his lab coat pocket – a small collection of hair bows, faded with age but clearly preserved with care. The pastel colors look strange against his clinical white coat, like butterflies landed on snow.

"I started hanging out with Domino because I wanted to be popular," he admits, letting the bows dangle from his fingers. "Known. Accepted." His laugh holds no humor. "When you grow up watching your parents battle cancer, you learn pretty quickly who shows up and who disappears. Who brings casseroles and who suddenly can't return phone calls."

He moves away from the window, pacing the length of the room with restless energy. "My parents were brilliant researchers, but they were also introverts. When they got sick, their social circle proved embarrassingly small. No support system, no friend network, just..." he gestures vaguely, "empty halls and quiet rooms and me trying to fill all the spaces they couldn't anymore."

"So you thought popularity would protect you," Ren observes quietly, all traces of his usual playboy facade gone. "Build a network before you needed one."

"Stupid, right?" Marcus's smile is self-deprecating as he continues his pacing. "But back then it made perfect sense. If I hung out with the 'cool kids of the block' as Eva used to call them, maybe I'd have people to lean on when things got hard." He stops near Zander's bed, watching Eva sleep. "Instead, I just became another one of her tormentors."

The bows swing gently from his fingers, catching the last rays of sunlight. "I started following Domino's lead," he continues, voice dropping lower. "Teasing her. Pushing her away. Telling myself it was necessary, that popularity required sacrifice, that she'd understand someday."

His pacing resumes, more agitated now. "It only got worse because..." he swallows hard, "well, because I got sick too."

The admission lands like a physical blow. Ares straightens in his chair, perfect posture betraying tension. Ren's usual smirk disappears completely. Even Zander's hand stills in Eva's hair, his eyes narrowing with new understanding.

"The family curse," Marcus explains, though we didn't ask. "The same cancer that stalked my parents decided to take up residence in my bones. Fourteen years old and suddenly I'm the one in hospital beds, watching everyone's faces for signs of who'll stay and who'll run."

He holds up the bows, letting them catch the fading light. "She used to wear these," he says softly. "Different color every day, always perfectly matched to whatever she was wearing. Said they made her feel pretty even when Domino's words made her feel worthless."

The memory seems to pain him physically. "Then one day, Domino decided they made her look too childish. Said if she wanted to be taken seriously, she needed to grow up." His knuckles whiten around the bows. "So I helped him steal them. All of them. Every single bow she'd collected over years."

"Why?" The question escapes me before I can stop it.

"Because I was scared," he admits, finally stopping his restless movement. "Because I thought if I didn't prove my loyalty to Domino's group, they'd abandon me when the cancer got worse. Because it's easier to be cruel than to admit you're terrified of dying alone."

Silence falls as we process this revelation. Outside, the sun finally surrenders to darkness, leaving us in the soft glow of hospital lights. Eva shifts slightly in her sleep, pressing closer to Zander as if seeking warmth.

"She cried," Marcus continues, staring at the bows like they hold answers to questions he hasn't asked. "Not the dramatic sobs Domino usually tried to provoke. Just... quiet tears. Like she expected nothing better from me anymore."

His fingers trace one particularly faded bow – pale pink with tiny silver stars. "The next day she came to school with her hair down. No more pigtails. No more bows. No more of that innocent joy she used to carry so naturally." He closes his eyes, pain evident in every line of his face. "I told myself it was for the best. That I was helping her grow up, helping her understand how the world really works."

"But you kept the bows," Zander observes quietly, his hand resuming its gentle motion through Eva's hair.

"I kept everything," Marcus admits. "Every bow, every note she ever passed me in class, every picture we took in the lab. Like somehow preserving the evidence of our friendship would make my betrayal less real."

---