Page 6 of Secret Triplets for Christmas

Jesus fuck. I tried to maintain the smile as I worked to come up with a suitable answer. The truth was, if Liam had survived, I doubted I’d be here. Perhaps that was the worst guilt out of all of this. My success came at the loss of my brother.

“I don’t know psychology. I don’t know if I would have been the same type of person if my past were different. The loss of my brother was significant, and I really couldn’t tell you if it drove me to my success. I’m not one who looks to the past. I’m always looking ahead.”

He jotted down notes and I rolled my eyes. My answer was filled with nothing, but perhaps when he wrote it in the article, it would seem poignant.

Thankfully, the interview moved on to focus on my business life and other areas of my personal life, such as it was. I had no personal life to speak of because I was 110% focused on my company.

We had surpassed three million dollars in earnings this last year, and I set my goal to hit billionaire status within the next five years. My days and nights were filled with trying to plan and execute ideas for technology that could make the lives of people better.

Invariably, in interviews, there was a question about balancing work and family, but I didn't have a family and didn't plan to have one. What was the point? I didn't have much to offer except money, but I wasn't interested in having a woman in my life who only wanted me for my money.

That wasn't to say I didn't have the occasional hookup, but to be honest, most times, my hand in a hot shower was all I needed when the urge struck. And to be perfectly frank, that didn't happen very much either because every time I did, I thought of Lindsay. The woman could get me off even in my fantasies, but the event was always followed by guilt. I hadn't been strong enough to resist her at a time when she was most vulnerable. Continuing to jack off to her felt wrong.

When the interview finished, I left my office, letting my admin know that I was going out for a while. I went to the company locker room and changed into running clothes and headed out for a long run, hopefully, to sweat away all the pain and bitterness coursing in my blood.

December in California was nothing like December in Boston. Not that California didn't have seasons, but to my estimate, there were only two—summer and winter with short transitions in between. Not that I was complaining. I didn't miss the cold or humidity of Boston.

As I began my run, I tried to let my mind and body drain the negative energy the interview brought up. But the Halloween decorations reminded me that it was almost the fifth anniversary of my brother's death. The murder hadn't been solved, and I was resolved in knowing that it likely wouldn't be.

Again, I tried to push those thoughts away, but instead, Lindsay came to mind. I wondered what she was up to. It would've been easy to find out, but like I said, the minute I left Boston, I shut that door behind me and locked it tight.

Finding out about Lindsay's life would only keep the wound in my chest open, the guilt driving me mad. Perhaps it was wrong of me to close her out of my life. Liam loved her, and maybe I should have looked out for her or at the very least, kept tabs on her. But I knew she didn’t need me. She was an amazing woman, so full of life. She savored every moment. She was also smart, and she had family around her to support her. I had no doubts that she was strong and successful in whatever she was doing.

Unable to control my thoughts, I put on the pair of earbuds I'd shoved in my pocket and used my phone to turn on a business podcast. If I were lucky, that would drown out my thoughts.

By the time I returned to the office, I felt better. Most of the negative energy had been cleared from my body. I returned to the locker room, taking a shower and dressing.

In the last five years, I had moved away from my old jeans and superhero T-shirts, which wasn't to say I was wearing a double-breasted suit, either. I'd briefly tested the Steve Jobs and Mark Zuckerberg wardrobe of jeans and a shirt, but I didn't like the monotony and couldn't really understand how choosing your clothes in the morning would clutter the mind so much that it would make it hard to run a business. While I did sometimes wear jeans, I mostly wore slacks and a button shirt, without a tie or coat. It gave me just enough air of authority to earn the respect of those around me or those I needed something from, like bankers.

I returned to my office realizing it was the end of the day. Most of the staff were heading out. When I got to my desk, there was a note on a pile of papers left by my admin. I appreciated that she knew that I would continue to work after hours and had set aside the work she felt I needed to focus on.

After that, I would go back to my personal passion projects, the current one being a computer system that would help protect the social security numbers of foster children. It was shocking how many of these kids aged out of foster care, only to learn that their credit was shit because somebody had stolen their social security number and used it to get credit. But my quest was personal, too. Liam’s social security number had been stolen and his credit ruined, which was part of why he’d turned to joining old friends in crime.

I had no clue whether my idea would work because it would rely on the government’s and social workers’ willingness to keep tabs on and flag questionable use of a foster child’s social security number. But I didn't need to know that my passion projects would have a successful outcome. I just needed to create them and hope that others would recognize their benefit.

At eight o'clock, I left the office and returned to my modest condo where I pulled out leftover Mexican take-out from the night before. As I ate, I scrolled my newsfeed, looking at current sports scores even though I didn't like sports. That had been Liam's love, and it was something I did for reasons that made no sense to me, but I'm sure a shrink would have thoughts about it.

My phone dinged, and I used my finger to scroll down from the top of the phone to open my notifications. The message came from a blocked number. I was getting ready to block it when I noticed the first line in the message had Liam's name. I poked the message and read:

Liam might be dead,but I still want what's mine.

I studied the message,completely lost as to what it meant. But then an unsettling feeling knotted in the pit of my stomach. I grappled with whether to respond, but ultimately, curiosity won out.

I don't knowwhat’s yours, but I'm certain I don't have it.

The response came seconds later.We'll see about that.

I immediately usedall the tech skills I had to figure out the source of the call, but there was no doubt they were using a burner phone which likely would end up at the bottom of a body of water when this call ended.

I sat back, running my fingers through my hair, wondering what this meant. I had donated everything of Liam’s except for a few small trinkets before I left Boston. But they were things from his childhood, like the baseball from when he hit a homerun in Little League. I had nothing of his as an adult, nothing from his life of crime.

What isit that you're looking for? Maybe I can help you?

A moment later,he replied.Play dumb if you like. But I will have what's mine.

I stared at the message,trying to decide if it was as ominous as it seemed. Finally, I opened my email and drafted a quick note to the last detective who was on my brother's case along with the screenshot of the text. Maybe this information would mean something to him, or perhaps it might put new life into the case.

That night when I went to bed, I had a difficult time falling asleep, afraid that the dreams would come. Dreams of not being able to save Liam. Sure enough, when sleep overtook me, the nightmare began again. The one where I was trying to reach Liam but my legs couldn’t move. But this time, when I finally did reach him and I was able to look down, crying out over his dead body, I saw that it wasn't Liam. It was Lindsay.

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