The Emptiness She Holds

A coincidence?

Chapter 17: A Coincidence?...

"Tell me everything you know," Vincent said, his voice low and commanding across the study.

I sat opposite him, the weight of the last week heavy between us. It'd been seven days since I exposed my "mom." No more running, no more hiding—I was here on a mission.

"I'm not telling you shit," I said, shrugging with careless indifference. "Now that my mother's dead, you can get rid of me. No reason to keep me around."

Vincent's face hardened, a mask of controlled anger settling over him.

"You're not going anywhere," he said, slamming his fist onto the Mahoney desk, making the wood echo. "I'm still your guardian."

"We have no blood ties," I rolled my eyes. "Send me to an orphanage already."

He leaned forward, eyes sharp and serious. "Don't you know, kid? Blood doesn't make us family. Loyalty does."

He formed his hand into a fist, the tattoo loyalty etched across his knuckles glaring at me.

He was right. That's how I saw Ryan and the others—family.

I shifted my gaze to the right, avoiding Vincent's intense stare, and instead, my eyes landed on a framed portrait on the shelf.

I stood up so fast my chair nearly toppled over, ignoring it as I moved toward the photo.

I grabbed the frame and studied it closely.

It was the same blonde woman I'd painted—not a painting this time, but a real photograph.

She stood beside Vincent, both dressed formally. She wore a satin dress that shimmered softly, pearls around her neck, and her hair spilled down in loose waves. Vincent was in a suit, the top buttons undone to reveal a bit of chest, his messy blonde hair falling just above his striking green-blue eyes.

What caught me most was how they looked at each other—eyes locked with such love it twisted something inside my chest.

Beautiful.

I didn't notice Vincent watching me.

"Who is she?" I asked, turning to face him, holding up the photo.

His eyes softened instantly as they landed on the woman in the picture.

"Camilla... my first love. My first everything."

He traced a finger along her figure as if trying to remember how she felt in his arms.

"Why do you ask?" His voice held curiosity.

"Just... looked familiar," I said quickly, setting the frame back on the shelf and sinking into the seat again.

What the hell did Vincent's dead wife have to do with me? I blocked out his voice as it rose again.

"Blair! Are you even listening to me?" Vincent waved his hand in front of my face.

"Right—sorry." I shook off the lingering thoughts and met his gaze.

He looked at me like I mattered.

"I apologize for the bruise from last week..." I said nervously, avoiding the black-purple mark fading along my ribs.

He cleared his throat and smiled softly. "Don't worry about it, kid. You throw one hell of an elbow jab."

I offered a small smile in return.

"As I was saying, I don't think it's safe for you to leave right now. You remember the plan Rachel mentioned before Silas shot her?" Vincent's eyes searched mine.

I nodded but my attention drifted again—this time to a family photo nearby.

Camilla smiled, pregnant with a tiny bump, surrounded by Vincent and a little girl.

Vincent stopped mid-sentence, probably noticing my distraction.

He followed my gaze and confusion flickered across his features.

"Did... you know Camilla?" he asked hesitantly.

I met his eyes, then back at the picture.

"...I'm sorry... about what happened to her and your daughter."

I ignored his question—it would only stir more curiosity.

His jaw clenched; he shut his eyes tightly. I must've hit a nerve.

"Thank you," he said with a sigh, before downing a shot of scotch.

"Um... great talk. Can I go?" I stood up from the cushioned chair.

"Yes. School starts the day after tomorrow—don't forget. Take one of the boys' cars if you need anything," he warned, narrowing his eyes.

"I've been in juvie for three years. You really think I should go to that privileged academy?" I crossed my arms, raising an eyebrow.

He rolled his eyes. "Yes. Now go before I start digging for whatever secrets you're hiding."

He smirked knowingly.

I huffed and left his office, heading downstairs to the game room where the clan lounged.

The boys were scattered across the lounge, some sprawling on bean bags, legs open, others draped over the couches.

As I entered, every pair of eyes locked on me.

"I need to borrow someone's car," I sighed, hating to ask.

They glanced at each other before yelling simultaneously, "NOT IT!"

Rolling my eyes, I muttered, "Never mind. I'll take a cab," and started for the door.

"Wait!" Elias called out, rushing after me with the others in tow.

I froze, looking back at them questioningly.

"We're all coming. Give us a few minutes to change," Elias said, motioning to their grey and black sweatpants and white, grey, and black tank tops.

I nodded, sitting back down in the living room.

"Don't forget to do y'all's makeup!" I teased as they climbed the stairs.

They all turned and shot me a glare that only made me smirk.

Such babies.

My thoughts drifted back to the angelic woman in the photos.

Was it a coincidence?

§

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