CHAPTER 144

**ZION**

I stumble back, the papers clenched in my hands, my fingers so tight around them that they crumple under my grip. My legs feel weak and unsteady, and before I even realize it, I’m sinking onto Mom’s bed. My breaths come shallow and uneven, my pulse hammering like a drum in my ears.

This—this can’t be real.

I stare at the worn, yellowed pages, my father’s name stamped across them like a damn brand.

Transaction records. Hotel bookings. Bank statements. All of it—proof of the kind of man he really was. A man who spent thousands on women who weren’t his wife.

A man who drained our accounts, all while coming home like nothing had changed, smiling like he was still the perfect husband and father.

I lift my head slowly, my voice barely above a whisper.

“These… these are the papers you showed him that day, aren’t they?”

Mom nods, her expression unreadable. “I had an investigator follow him,” she says, exhaling sharply.

“I just… couldn’t live like that anymore. He was bleeding our accounts dry. Buying expensive gifts for his mistresses while I was home playing the fool, pretending we were a happy family.”

I shake my head, unable to process it. My father—my fucking hero—was a fraud. A liar. A selfish, vile man who had fooled us all.

“Did he—” My throat tightens.

“Did he even love you?” I ask, my voice hoarse, desperate for some kind of answer that might make this easier to swallow.

“I mean… you married him.”

Mom closes her eyes, a long, shuddering breath leaving her lips. And then, she shakes her head.

“I....” she murmurs, her voice carrying the weight of something old, something broken.

She looks at me then, her eyes distant, like she’s seeing something long gone.

“Thomas was just the manager at my father’s company. A man my dad trusted blindly.” A humourless laugh escapes her.

“To this day, I have no idea why.”

She shakes her head, a ghost of something—regret? Pain?—flashing across her face before she swallows it down.

“I was in love with someone else,” she says softly.

The words hit me like a sledgehammer to the chest.

What?

My brows pull together, my breath stalling. I blink at her, waiting for her to take it back, to say I misheard her. But she doesn’t.

I shake my head, my pulse thundering.

“What… what do you mean?” My voice is barely above a whisper, but it carries the weight of disbelief, of something unravelling inside me.

“You—you married, Dad.”

She exhales slowly, her gaze distant, lost in a past I never knew existed.

“Yes,” she murmurs. “But not by choice.”

“I was in love with my high school, sweetheart. He wasn’t wealthy like my family. An orphan, but sincere and loving.” Her lips press together for a moment as if she’s trying to hold back the memories threatening to surface.

“We planned to get married as soon as he got a job. We had it all figured out. But, my father found out… from Thomas.”

A chill races down my spine.

Mom exhales slowly, her hands clenching at her sides.

“My father threatened me. Told me that if I didn’t end things, I would have to cut all ties with him. I refused. I told him I’d rather walk away from all the money and be with the man I loved.”

She lets out a small, bitter laugh, shaking her head.

“But my father wasn’t the kind of man who took no for an answer.” Her voice drops lower, tinged with something dark.

“He said that if I refused to leave him, he’d make sure my boyfriend never worked in this city—hell, in this country—ever again. That he’d freeze all his scholarships. That if necessary… he’d have him killed.”

The blood in my veins turns ice cold.

“At first, I didn’t believe him,” Mom whispers.

“I thought he was bluffing. So I defied him.”

A long pause.

And then, the next words she speaks make my stomach drop.

“My father had him beaten.”

I flinch.

“"He barely made it out alive." Her voice is hollow, but the weight of her words is suffocating. "They left him broken, bloodied beyond recognition. By the time someone found him, he was choking on his own blood, slipping in and out of consciousness. The doctors said if he’d been brought in even a few minutes later, he wouldn’t have made it."

She swallows hard, her fingers curling into fists.

"But surviving wasn’t enough. My father made sure he had nothing left. The moment he was discharged, he was expelled—thrown out of college like garbage. Every opportunity he had? Gone. My father ensured no school would take him, no company would hire him. He wasn’t just beaten that night, Zion." Her eyes meet mine, burning with old ghosts. "He was erased."

There’s a crack in her voice now, something raw and painful.

“And despite all of it… he still told me we’d find a way. That we could leave and start over. That he’d find a way to support us.” She blinks rapidly, her throat working as she forces herself to keep going.

“But I couldn’t risk his life. So I told my father I’d leave him.”

My chest feels like it’s caving in.

“But there was a condition.” Her jaw tightens.

“My father said if I wanted him to leave my boyfriend alone, then I would marry the man of his choice. Right there. That same day.”

I don’t even realize I’m shaking until my fingers go numb around the papers.

And then Mom looks at me, eyes hollow, voice empty.

“That man was Thomas.”

I stare at her, my mouth dry, my brain refusing to process what I just heard.

“I never understood the hold he had on my father,” she whispers.

“But that day, I married him. No love. No proposal. Just a forced marriage.”

A lump forms in my throat.

“And Thomas…” She lets out a shaky breath.

“He changed the second we were married. He thought he was untouchable. That he was in control.” She swallows hard.

“And I was trapped.”

Silence.

A deafening, suffocating silence.

I can’t speak.

I can’t fucking breathe.

Because everything I thought I knew—everything I believed—was a lie.

I stare at her, my mind spinning, trying to catch up with what she’s just said.

"Who was he?" My voice is rough, barely more than a whisper. "The man you loved… what happened to him?"

She hesitates. Just for a second. But it’s long enough for dread to coil in my stomach. Then, with a quiet sigh, she moves to sit beside me on the bed. Gently, she takes my hand in hers, her fingers warm, steady—like she’s bracing me for impact.

“The man I loved,” she says softly,

“The man I still love… is William.”

Something inside me lurches. My breath catches. My entire body locks up.

William.

Winter’s dad.

No.

No, no, no—

I rip my hand from hers like her touch burns me, shooting up to my feet so fast the papers in my lap scatter to the floor.

“Winter’s dad?” My voice is sharp, almost accusing. I shake my head, taking a step back as if distance will make this make sense.

“No… no, don’t tell me—” My stomach twists violently.

“You’re the reason he left his wife? So you two could be together?”

Her eyes widen.

“No,” she says firmly.

“He didn’t leave. His wife left him.”

“W-What?”

She exhales, looking at me with something between exhaustion and sadness.

“The night of your dad’s accident, William was here. He was dealing with the police, making sure everything was in order. And while he was here… she left.”

I swallow hard, my mind racing, piecing together puzzle pieces I didn’t even know existed.

“She took the kids,” Mom continues, her voice quieter now. “And she left.”

My breath stutters.

“That’s why Winter wasn’t at the funeral…”

Everything I thought I knew is shifting, crumbling around me. And for the first time in a long time, I don’t know where I stand.
Suddenly, the thought of Winter slams into me, knocking the air from my lungs, squeezing my chest in a brutal, unrelenting grip.

The photos.

Fuck.

A sharp, nauseating wave of dread slams into me, and suddenly, I can’t breathe. My stomach churns violently, twisting itself into knots so tight I think I might pass out. My hand flies to my gut, desperate to keep the sickness at bay, but it’s useless.

I stumble out of Mom’s room, barely registering her calling my name, and bolt for the bathroom. I barely get the door shut before I collapse to my knees, gripping the toilet as the bile rushes up my throat.

It hits me like a brutal punch—every ounce of regret, every horrible fucking thing I’ve done.

I wretch again, my body convulsing with the force of it, but it doesn’t make me feel any lighter. It doesn’t cleanse the filth clinging to my skin.

I did this.

I took advantage of her vulnerability.

Used it.

Twisted it.

Threw it in her face like it was nothing.

All for revenge.

A revenge that was baseless from the start.

I gag again, but nothing comes up this time. Just empty, suffocating regret.

Winter’s words rip through me, slicing deeper than any knife ever could.

"You don’t exist to me. You’re already dead in my mind, Zion."

I grip the edges of the toilet, my breath coming in ragged gasps.

Dead.

She meant it.

And if I don’t fix this—if I don’t find a way to make this right—

I might as well be.

The words replay in my head, each one a brutal punch straight to the gut. I can still hear the crack in her voice, see the way she looked at me—like I was nothing. Like she didn’t care anymore.

My whole body feels like it’s spiraling, like I’m losing control.

I have to act—now.

Before her hatred cements. Before she moves on. Before she becomes someone I can never get back.

“Zion!”

Mom’s voice barely registers through the storm in my head. The bathroom door flies open, and she rushes in, her face etched with worry.

“Are you okay?” She kneels beside me, reaching out, but I barely hear her.

My hands are shaking.

Fuck.

I shove them into my pockets, my breath coming too fast, too uneven. My pulse is a wild, erratic thing hammering against my ribs.

Where’s my fucking phone?

"Zion..."

“She’ll never forgive me, Mom…” My voice cracks, barely holding together. “The things I did… shit.” I drag a trembling hand down my face, the weight of it all crushing me.

“She—she couldn’t get away from me fast enough.” The words taste like poison. “She fucking ran.”

Mom steps closer, her eyes fierce, unwavering. “Then make her stop running.”

I shake my head, my breath coming too fast, too uneven.

“But what if…”

My throat tightens. “What if it’s too late?”

“Now is not the time to panic,” she says, her voice unwavering.

“Now is the time to fix it.”

“She won’t even look at me, Mom. She—”

“Then make her.”

I stare at her, my pulse roaring in my ears.

“Do something about it, Zion,” she says.

“If you want her back—if you want to fix this—you don’t get to sit here and fall apart. You fight for her.”

I swallow hard, her words sinking in, gripping me by the throat.

“I—I don’t know how.”

“You do.” Her grip on my arm tightens, grounding me, forcing me to look at her.

“Get your best friend back—no matter what.”

Best friend.

No.

She’s so much more than that. She always was.

My throat tightens. My breath is ragged, chest heaving as the weight of it all crashes over me.

Winter is mine.

And there is no fucking way I’m losing her.

I jerk away from Mom, scrambling to my feet. My hands are still shaking as I yank my phone from my pocket.

The pictures.

Fuck.

I need to take them down.

Now!