Page 69 of Tempted By Eden

Leo doesn’t belong here.

He doesn’t deserve this.

I climb out of the car and lock the doors behind me. The Aston Martin stands out like a neon sign, and in a neighborhood like this, it’s practically begging to be keyed—or worse. I step over a used syringe in the gutter and shake my head in disgust. This place… This isn’t a home.It’s a trap. And I’ll be damned if I let Leo grow up in a place like this.

I walk through the rusted gate and knock on the door.

I’m not just angry with Cora for keeping Leo from me—I’m angry with myself for not finding him sooner. But all that anger needs to wait. I’m here for Leo today.

After a moment, the door creaks open, and there she is.

The emotions hit me all at once—anger, need, hurt. There’s no denying the pull I still feel toward her, even now. Even after everything. But she looks different. Tired. Pale. The dark circles under her eyes and the way her collarbones stick out tell me more than words ever could. She’s been suffering too.

But I can’t think about that now.

“Come in,” Cora says, her voice flat. “Leo’s in the living room.”

I follow her inside, down the hallway, glancing around at the small, worn room. Everything is mismatched and old. The furniture looks like it’s been picked up from secondhand shops, maybe even off the street. But at least it’s clean. She’s doing her best. But is her best good enough for Leo?

For the first time, I wonder what she’s gone through. Has she been fighting to keep it all together? Or was this all a choice? A calculated choice to cut me out, to raise Leo in this rundown neighborhood, when I could have given him everything?

I want to hold on to the anger. It’s simpler that way. But seeing her now, it’s not that easy. She looks to be hanging on by the thinnest thread.

Maybe she had her reasons. Maybe she thought she was doing what was best for Leo.

I clench my jaw, shaking the thought away. No. She doesn’t get a pass for this. She made her bed, and now she can lie in it. I’m not here to fix her mistakes or get dragged into her mess. I’m here for Leo. For Jonathon.

An elderly man approaches me, and Cora introduces him. “This is Anthony, my dad.”

His handshake is weak, and he looks gaunt, as if a strong gust of wind could knock him over.

“Good to meet you,” I say, keeping my tone neutral as I shake his frail hand. He gives me a tight smile.

“I spoke to Leo last night,” Cora continues. “I explained who you are… and what happened to his daddy.”

She chokes on the last word, and I look away, unable to face her grief.

I can’t deal with her pain on top of everything else.

And then I see him. Leo.

He’s sitting in front of the TV, chuckling at some silly cartoon on screen, oblivious to the strain in the room.

The breath leaves my lungs. It’s like seeing a ghost. His hair, his eyes, even the shape of his jaw—they’re all Jonathon’s. He’s a living, breathing replica of my twin. The resemblance is so strong that, for a moment, I’m transported back in time.

I blink, trying to focus on the present, but the memories flood in, uninvited.

Jon was the outgoing one, always the first to throw himself into anything that felt even remotely like freedom. He had no interest in the family business—Hayes & Hayward was always my responsibility, my path, not his. He’d laugh about it, calling me “the good son,” while he had his sights set elsewhere, determined to become an architect, to design his own world. I was the boring one, the heir to our family legacy, while Jon would be… well, Jon.

As kids, we used to switch places just for fun, just to throw everyone off. He’d always push things too far, daring me to keep up with him. He was fearless that way, like he could shape the world with just his smile. And most of the time, he did.

For a split second when I gaze at Leo, it’s like I’m looking at Jon. I see the same light in his eyes, that same adventurous spirit my brother had. I can almost hear Jon’s laugh, daring me to race him down the beach, to see who could dive into the waves first.

Fuck, I miss him.

It’s a bone-deep ache, a pain that doesn’t fade with time. Some days, I still expect him to come strolling through the door, flashing that easy grin, ready with some new scheme. But he’s not here. He’s never coming back.

And yet, in some impossible way, here he is.

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