Page 18 of The Reckoning
Richard studies me, head tilted slightly. Something flickers in his expression—curiosity? Suspicion? It’s gone before I can identify it.
“I need my son,” he says, voice softening in a way that sets off alarm bells in my head. “The company needs its future leadership. Especially now, with expansion plans in place.”
The shift in tone—it’s calculated, practiced. Richard doesn’t do genuine emotion. Every display of feeling is tactical, designed to achieve a specific outcome.
“The board meeting?” I prompt, steering away from whatever manipulation he’s setting up.
“Delayed until morning. I wanted to speak with you privately first.” Richard leans back in his chair, fingers steepled. “Patricia mentioned something concerning about Lilian.”
My body goes rigid despite my best efforts to remain casual. “Oh?”
“She’s missed several appointments and isn’t responding to calls or texts. Apparently, she hasn’t been seen on campus for over twenty-four hours.”
I manufacture a frown, the expression sitting unnaturally on my face. “That doesn’t sound like Lilian.”
“No, it doesn’t.” Richard’s gaze sharpens. “When was the last time you saw her?”
The question is a trap. I can feel it, sense the careful construction of it. What does he know? What is he fishing for?
“A few days ago,” I say vaguely. “She mentioned some research project she was working on. Seemed pretty absorbed in it.”
“Research.” Richard repeats the word, rolling it around like he’s tasting it. “On what subject?”
Another trap. Another test.
“She didn’t say anything specifically. Something for one of her classes.” I shrug, affecting indifference while my mind races. “You know how she gets when she’s focused on something.”
“Indeed.” Richard’s smile doesn’t reach his eyes. “Her focus has always been... impressive. When properly directed.”
Something in his tone raises the hairs on the back of my neck. Calculation that has nothing to do with her well-being.
“Is there a reason for concern?” I ask, playing the dutiful stepbrother that Aries was supposed to be. “With her heart condition?—”
“That’s precisely my concern,” Richard interrupts. “We’ve been developing a new treatment protocol in the Medical Research Division. Something that could significantly improve her quality of life.”
Cold dread spreads through my chest, freezing my lungs mid-breath. The Medical Research Division. The same corporateentity that ran The Facility where I was kept. Where they experiment on people under the guise of treatment.
Where they broke me, remade me, and tried to erase who I was.
“What kind of treatment?” I ask, fighting to keep my voice steady.
“Highly specialized,” Richard says, deliberately vague. “But with promising results in preliminary trials. We’ve been trying to reach her to discuss participation options.”
Participation options.Laughable at best. As if she’d have a choice. As if any of us ever had a choice when Richard Hayes decided what was best for the family name, the family legacy.
“I’m sure she’s fine,” I say, struggling to maintain the facade of casual concern. “Probably just buried in studies.”
“Perhaps.” Richard doesn’t sound convinced. “Even so, I’d appreciate it if you’d make finding her a priority. Before your trip to Tokyo.”
It’s not a request. Nothing from Richard ever is.
“Of course,” I agree, already calculating how to use this to my advantage. “I’ll reach out to her friends and check her usual spots.”
“Good.” Richard nods, apparently satisfied. “Now, about the acquisition?—”
The conversation shifts to business, focusing on numbers, strategies, and corporate maneuvering. I respond on autopilot, drawing on months of research and preparation to play my part convincingly. But my mind is elsewhere—on Lilian and whatever “treatment protocol” the Hayes empire has designed for her.
On the growing certainty that she’s in even more danger than I realized.
