CHAPTER 81: THE MISSING PIECE

Josie

I could tell—without a doubt—that this was the question Kiel hadn’t expected. The way his mouth parted slightly, his shoulders tensed, and his eyes flicked to the floor told me more than words could. He was shocked. Almost like I’d just slapped him. Maybe I had, in my own way. But I wasn’t about to sweep this under the rug like everyone wanted me to.

Not anymore.

"What happened that day?" I asked again, voice lower, but my spine was straight and unyielding.

"I... Josie," he began, running a hand through his disheveled hair. "I told you already... I don’t remember."

That answer made something sharp coil in my stomach. My throat burned, and I blinked furiously against the sting behind my eyes. My jaw clenched.

"That’s not good enough," I snapped before I could stop myself. "You have to remember!"

The words came out louder than I meant, edged with too much pain, too much desperation. He looked at me like I’d punched him again. I wasn’t even sure if I was angry anymore—I was just... tired. Tired of the half-truths, tired of the pain. I closed my eyes for a moment and let the silence stretch between us, aching and brittle.

"I’m sorry," I said after a deep breath. "I didn’t mean to yell, but—" I looked at him again. "I need to know, Kiel. I need to understand what happened. Because I don’t. And it’s eating me alive."

He stared at me, guilt written across every inch of his face. Still, he shook his head, almost as if trying to physically push the memory out of his mind.

"I told you," he whispered, "I don’t remember."

I held his gaze, and after a second, I stood from my seat and stepped closer to him until we were eye-level. He didn’t flinch. His eyes just searched mine, looking for something—maybe forgiveness, maybe understanding. I didn’t know if I had either to give.

"Start from the very beginning," I told him quietly. "Everything you remember. Every second. Even if it doesn’t make sense."

Kiel swallowed hard. I saw his throat bob, saw the way his shoulders rose and fell with a heavy breath. Slowly, he moved toward the windows and stared outside, his fingers twitching slightly at his sides. He looked... wrecked. Like the memory alone was suffocating him.

But I couldn’t take the question back. Not now. I needed the truth.

"There was a child’s birthday," he began slowly, voice low and strained. "Varen was supposed to go, but he asked me to attend instead. Said I should go in his place since I usually handled their family’s events anyway. I didn’t think anything of it. Just another political connection to keep intact."

He paused for a second, and I stayed quiet.

"When I got there," he continued, "everything was normal. People were laughing. Kids were playing. I greeted the celebrant’s mother—Angela. She offered me some juice. Said it was homemade. Fresh."

My breath hitched. My stomach coiled tighter. Juice.

"After I drank it... something was wrong," Kiel said, his voice barely above a whisper now. "I didn’t feel sick—not at first. But I felt off. Like... the world started spinning a little too fast. Like I was trapped in my body, and it was reacting to something I couldn’t stop."

His knuckles turned white where his hands were clenched at his sides.

"I remember trying to call someone, maybe Thorne—I don’t know. But my fingers weren’t working right. My legs gave out not long after. It felt like I was losing control, like... like I was on the verge of a stroke."

He turned his head just enough to look at me from the corner of his eye. "But I didn’t collapse. Somehow, I stayed upright. I walked, Josie. I walked, but I don’t know where. The next time I came to... I was in that damn hotel room."

I couldn’t speak for a moment. My thoughts were running in all directions, tumbling over each other with a thousand implications.

"Do you... do you remember going to the hotel?" I asked.

"No," he replied immediately. "Not even a flash of it. I just woke up there. Alone. My clothes were wrinkled. My mouth felt like it’d been stuffed with cotton. And then the video... showed up online, and everything spiraled."

I stared at him, my heart pounding against my ribs. So he hadn’t even known where he was. He’d just... woken up there.

"Kiel," I said quietly, stepping forward, "give me her address."

He blinked. "What?"

"The woman. Angela. I want her address. I’m going to speak to her myself."

His eyes widened. "Josie—no. Absolutely not. I’m not letting you put yourself in harm’s way because of this."

I crossed my arms and held his gaze. "This isn’t just about you anymore. It never was. Someone drugged you. Someone tried to destroy us. And you think I’m just going to sit back and let them win?"

He opened his mouth, but I cut him off.

"No. I’m done waiting for people to fix things for me. I’m going to the source myself."

Kiel looked like he wanted to argue again, but something in my expression must have stopped him. Slowly, grudgingly, he reached into the drawer of his desk and scribbled down an address.

"Please," he said, eyes pleading, "just... be careful."

"I will," I said, grabbing the paper. "I’ll take the guards. But you can’t stop me."

The tension in the air was like a wall between us, one made of too many broken things to count. I turned to leave, not trusting myself to say anything else.

When I got to the address, the house was exactly what I expected: expensive-looking, all white stone and glossy black railings, a statement of wealth and power. The front yard was adorned with carefully trimmed hedges, a bubbling fountain, and a patio where several women sat sipping tea in the shade of a large umbrella.

I didn’t hesitate.

As I stepped onto the patio, the quiet chatter died instantly. Eyes turned. Some widened in recognition.

I spotted her immediately—Angela. Her long hair was pinned neatly, her makeup flawless, her smile fake and rigid as hell.

"Luna Josie," one of them gasped, nearly spilling her cup.

The others scrambled to their feet, half-bowing, some looking at each other in confusion.

"Luna," Angela said breathlessly, brushing nonexistent dust off her lap. "I-I didn’t know you’d be visiting today."

I gave her a tight smile. "This isn’t a social visit."

She paled.

The other women began to murmur, and I raised my hand.

"I’d like a word with you," I said calmly, but firmly. "In private."

Angela looked around nervously before nodding quickly. "O-of course. Right this way."

She led me through the large foyer and into a sitting room filled with soft beige furniture and the scent of lemon oil. Once the door clicked shut behind us, she turned to me, trying to smile.

"Would you like something to drink—?"

"No," I cut in. "I want you to tell me exactly why you spiked Kiel’s drink."