bChapter /b111

    The silence makes my skin crawl.

    I anxiously drum my fingers against the railing, while Adrian stays quiet on the other end. It takes a few long, fumbling seconds before I finally hear him breathe out, “Oh.”

    “Yeah.”

    “Um–shit. Sorry. I just… wasn’t expecting this. At all.” He sounds like he’s scrambling, words tripping over each other. “How

    are you? Wait – no, is that even the right thing to ask? Should I still call you Emily? Or it’s Emilia now, right? God, I’m messing this up, aren’t I?”

    “Adrian,” Iugh softly, almost despite myself. The awkwardness in his voice is achingly familiar. Some things really don’t change. “Emily, Emilia- it doesn’t matter. And you can rx. My parents still don’t know you’re the one with the rest of his sculptures.” 1

    I hear the nervousness leave him all at once, like a balloon deting. “Oh. Well… that’s a

    relief.”

    “Did I catch you at a bad time?” I ask, guilt creeping in. “I can call backter if—”

    “No! No, you’re fine. It’s fine.” Honestly, I would have been more surprised if he was asleep.

    A beat. Then quieter: “I just didn’t expect to hear from you. But… it’s really, really good to hear

    your voice. I’ve been worried. You know, with everything that’s been online.”

    Now that catches me off guard.

    barely knew how to use

    The Adrian I remember – the one Luther was obsessed with

    social media. All he cared about was video games and breaking into encrypted systems for fun. A genius with messy hair, dark circles under his eyes, and no filter.

    My smile is as good as gone. “Yeah, that’s actually what I was calling about. I need a

    favour.”

    The rain is slowlying to a stop. “You know all you have to do is ask.”

    But does that still apply to me, even now?

    It was different back then. Adrian used to drag himself out of his dark room just to hang out with me, his boyfriend’s little sister. He was always tired, always holding a can of soda, but he showed up.

    It was different when I still had Luther. When I hadn’t lost my brother and stolen away the

    love of his life.

    The guilt stings, but I don’t let it show. “Do you still want the rest of his sculptures?”

    I hear him breathe in, sharp and surprised. “You’re serious?”

    I always thought it was unfair. Most of Luther’s sculptures were inspired by one person. The same person he never stopped looking at. Adrian.

    They should’ve gone to him. But my parents never knew who Adrian was. They just packed the art away after Luther died, like that would help them forget.

    “I want to ruin someone,” I say. My voice is calm. “Ruin him so badly he loses everything. No love. No power. Nothing left.”

    Adrian doesn’t even pause. “If he’s that high up, it won’t take much to bring him down.”

    “That’s the problem,” I say. “People like him are protected. I need to destroy his reputation so badly no one ever wants to be near him again.”

    I can hear the smile in Adrian’s voice. “Luther would be proud.”

    His words hit me hard.

    There are so many things I want to ask him. Are you okay? Do you still miss him? Do you still love him? Will you ever stop?

    But all I say is, “Help me. Even if you don’t… the sculptures are still yours.”

    They always were.

    It takes me two days to catch Toby alone – surprisingly easy, once I remember how loud

    his life is.

    He’s always been the centre of every room. The kind of person who radiates that relentless, golden energy that makes you wonder if anything ever really touches him.

    Fake Dating My Ex’s Favourite Hockey yer