Page 15 of The Psychopaths

“Aries,” Mother greets him with practiced warmth. “What a lovely surprise. Join us for dinner?”

His eyes scan the room, passing over me with what seems like deliberate casualness before returning to Mother.

“Can’t stay long. Just need the information Father wanted me to collect.”

“He’s in his study, I believe,” Mother replies. “But surely you can spare a moment to say hello to Lilian? It’s her last night before college.”

His gaze shifts to me then, direct and assessing. Wow. He hasn’t made direct eye contact with me in years. The Aries I know always maintains careful distance and keeps his attention averted enough to avoid fully looking at me but not be seen as rude.

This focused observation makes heat rise in my cheeks.

“Hello, Lilian,” he says, voice carrying a slight, unfamiliar edge. “Ready for Oakmount?”

“Yes,” I manage, hating how breathless I sound. Two years of working to extinguish these feelings, and one unexpected appearance shatters all my progress. “Looking forward to it.”

A smile curves his lips—different somehow from his usual controlled expression. More genuine. More dangerous. “I’m sure you’ll thrive there.”

I study him while pretending not to, cataloging the subtle changes four months of absence have created. His shoulders seem broader, and his stance is more confident. The careful composure that always characterized his movements has been replaced with something more...predatory.

His gaze holds mine a beat longer than the distant politeness he’s maintained since that humiliating night when I was eighteen.

As I take note of the changes, it occurs to me that his eyes seem the most changed—they’re obviously the same hazel color but somehow different.More intense. Less guarded.As if something that was always carefully contained has broken free.

“The salmon is excellent,” I offer, desperately searching for something to extend this unexpected moment. “There’s plenty if you’re hungry.”

“Perhaps another time.” His smile doesn’t reach those altered eyes. He glances at my barely touched plate. “Though if you ask me, it doesn’t look like you’re enjoying it much yourself.” The observation startles me. Aries never notices such things or at least never comments on them.

His polite distance has always included a careful lack of personal observations. This direct acknowledgment of my food aversion feels intimate, making my pulse quicken.

“I had a late lunch,” I lie, then wonder why I’m explaining myself at all.

“Hmm.” The sound carries disbelief, another unexpected deviation from his usual careful neutrality. He moves farther into the room, picking up a crystal paperweight from the sideboard, examining it with unusual interest before setting it down in a slightly different position.

“Aries will be at Oakmount often this semester, Lilian,” Mother interjects, missing the strange undercurrent between us. “Working with your stepfather on the new business program. Perhaps you’ll see each other on campus occasionally?”

My heart leaps traitorously at this information—campus encounters away from family supervision, potential moments without the weight of our parents’ watchful eyes.

“Is that so?” I ask, aiming for casual interest while trying to ignore the flush I feel spreading across my cheeks.

He turns toward me, that unfamiliar smile playing at his lips again. “Indeed. I’ll be there every Tuesday and Thursday, building my contribution to the Hayes legacy, as expected.”

There’s a bite to the last words, a bitterness Aries has never allowed himself to express in front of family. I blink in surprise, but before I can respond, my stepfather’s voice calls from the hallway.

“Aries? Is that you? Come to my office. I have the documents you’ll need for the Henderson meeting.”

And just like that, the moment shatters. Aries—or this new version of him—straightens, composure sliding back into place, though not as completely as before.

“Duty calls,” he says, with what almost sounds like sarcasm. “Always a pleasure, Patricia. Lilian...” He pauses, eyes holding mine with unexpected intensity. “See you on campus.”

The promise in those words—for it feels like a promise rather than a casual goodbye—makes me shiver with equal parts anticipation and unease.

“Of course,” I say, voice steadier than I feel. “Looking forward to it.”

He nods once, a sharp, decisive movement so different from his usual carefully deliberate gestures, then turns to follow my stepfather’s summons.

I watch him leave, unable to shake the feeling that something fundamental has changed in him, something beyond the expected evolution of four months’ separation. Either Aries has transformed significantly over the summer or I never truly knew him to begin with.

With him gone, the dining room feels emptier as the door to Father’s study closes with a definitive click. Like always, the men retreat to discuss important matters while the women remain at the table, left to conversation deemed appropriately feminine.The pattern is so familiar that I should be immune to its sting by now.

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