CHAPTER 223: I HAVE NEVER FAILED

Sharona’s nostrils flared. "I have never failed, Mr Kane," she hissed, placing her palms on the table as she leaned forward. "I will not fail. That inheritance belongs to me! I earned it!"

Tom chuckled—a deep, rolling sound that vibrated with condescension. "You mean belongs to us, right?" he asked, dragging out the last word with a lazy smile.

Sharona’s spine stiffened. She immediately straightened. "You know what I mean," she said quickly, pushing her chair back.

Tom watched her with the satisfaction of a man who enjoyed lighting matches and dropping them into gasoline puddles. "Sharona..." he called after her as she began to walk away. She paused, her hand gripping the strap of her purse. "When you go down, you better go down alone."

Sharona scoffed—an elegant, disdainful sound—and walked out of the bar with her chin lifted and hips swaying.

Tom smiled. A slow, serpentine smile. He loved this—loved pulling strings, loved watching people dance to the rhythm of their own destruction. He loved moving chess pieces that didn’t even realize they were on a board until he tipped them over.

Now all that remained was rebuilding the bridge he had set on fire with his family or at least pretend to. If he could manage that—if he could twist the narrative just right—

*****

Anna hesitated at the doors of the estate—her childhood home, a mansion that once echoed with laughter. She lifted her hand and knocked, her heart pounding in her chest.

Winn opened the door.

And immediately slammed it shut in her face.

The thud of wood meeting wood reverberated through her bones.

"Son..." Anna whispered. She pushed the door open herself and stepped inside before he could stop her.

"What do you want?" Winn demanded. His stance was rigid, shoulders squared.

Anna looked around slowly, her gaze sweeping over the space. The broken glasses had been cleared by the staff, but several shattered vases remained in corners, jagged remnants of some recent explosion of rage. "What happened here?" she whispered.

"You want the truth or the lie?" Winn asked, folding his arms. His face was carved into stone.

"Winn...Isn’t this enough? Isn’t it? How long will you let me suffer this way?"

Winn stared at her as if she’d suddenly grown horns. "Are you fucking kidding me?! Do you know why I haven’t spoken to you all this time? Because I still don’t want to hurt you. I fear I will say such things that I will regret or will not be able to take back. So, Mum, whatever you came here to say—say it and leave."

Anna wrung her fingers together. "I came to see how my son was doing," she said softly. "Since Ivy came back, I wanted to know how you were handling that."

"You do not have the right to ask me how I am doing." He stepped closer, stopping only a foot from her, and Anna felt the heat of his anger. "Why didn’t you ask me how I was doing when Tom nearly killed me when I was barely nine?"

Anna flinched.

Winn continued, unable—or unwilling—to hold back now. "How about every single time he hit me? Every time he abused me?" His eyes glistened with the raw fury of a man who had held the same scream in his throat for years. "Why didn’t you ask?"

Tears streamed down Anna’s cheeks. "I—"

"He wasn’t my father," Winn said coldly. "And yet you allowed it." He exhaled sharply and shook his head. "I love you, Mum. I do. But I wonder—who were you protecting with your silence? Me, yourself, or Tom?"

He didn’t wait for an answer.

Winn grabbed his jacket from the coat rack.

"He wants to make amends!" Anna yelled. "He wants to make amends," she repeated, but it sounded weaker, thinner, like even she didn’t believe it.

The look in Winn’s eyes turned murderous—dark, stormlike. "He... he... amends?!" He stepped closer to her. "Amends?! You’re crazy, Mum. You need to get your head checked."

He ran a hand through his hair, pacing briefly. The motion was restless, animalistic. He stopped abruptly and pointed at her, chest rising and falling with fury. "I cannot believe after all he has done, you are still married to him. Do you have no self-worth whatsoever? Or are you so wrapped up in the idea of the man that you’d accept anything as long as it’s from him?"

The words cut her, visibly. But Winn was far from finished.

"Tom is the one cancer in our family," he said, enunciating every syllable as if spitting poison. "And it saddens me that you have refused to see it." He took another step. "We would have been much, much happier, Mum. Do you know that? Do you have any idea how different our lives could have been if you had just walked away?"

"Now happiness is just an illusion," Winn said. There was a haunting softness in his tone this time. "A stupid, cruel illusion."

Anna swallowed hard, tears spilling down her cheeks and dripping onto her blouse. "Winn... I know I should have protected you," she whispered. "But do you think it was easy for me too?"

That was the wrong thing to say.

Winn stiffened, every muscle locking. "I don’t wanna hear it. The only good thing I have gotten from both of you," he said, "is my sister. That’s it."

"And I am glad she is far away from both of you now," he added, jaw tightening. "Far away from all this shit. From him. From you."

Anna covered her mouth, sobbing openly now. "Winn—please—"

But Winn didn’t stop, didn’t turn, didn’t say another word.

He grabbed the front door, yanked it open, and the harsh sunlight flooded in.

He had nowhere to go. Joey was having a Sunday get-together at his parents’ house, and Winn couldn’t bring his current energy anywhere near a cheerful gathering.

And he’d already ruined Sunday for the Everests—spectacularly—so he resorted to the only person who never seemed put off by his face, his attitude, or his questionable choices.

(can we get to 100 power stones)