Fuck, I missed driving my F1 car. Just speeding through the corners, missing the wall by mere inches every damn time... it was what kept making me feel alive, what kept the blood flowing through my veins.

Right now, Florence was in charge of making me feel anything. But while she did a spectacular job at it, I also knew I couldn't rely on her alone. It was damn hard to keep my mind at ease, to keep my feet from running straight to Sebastian Williams's house and bash his head in. I'd learned to cope with the violent thoughts — but fuck me, this fucking asshole deserved them all to be true.

"Okay. Basically, nothing changes." Amara's voice made me set my thoughts aside. She was sitting opposite me and Florence at what had become our regular table at the Hideout, with Rafael by her side. "We've got our plan, and as long as Phoenix is still on board, we'll go along with it. If anything, he just gives us more leverage now."

Leverage. Hah. Funny how I'd become something as simple as that. Leverage over the man I'd hated since the day I'd met him. The man who'd helped create me.

"We just have to hurry, since the wedding is in three days and none of us want your mother to be married to that shithead. Not now or in the future." Amara added, a sympathetic glimmer in her eyes.

She was right — no matter how much I hated my mom for how she'd handled things, I'd never allow this marriage to happen. It didn't matter what she'd done. She was my mother, the woman who'd raised me, and she deserved a lot more than Sebastian Williams.

"I'm sorry." It was Rafael who addressed me next. The look in his eyes was similar to what I'd seen in Florence before, apologetic in the most senseless of ways. "If it weren't for our dad, maybe this wouldn't—"

"If it weren't for your dad, then he would've found another way to destroy my life." I interjected before he could put the blame on his family, much like Florence had tried to do before. "My relation to that shithead has nothing to do with your father. This idiotic grudge is just one way for him to be part of the power play he loves so much. That's all it's about, really. Power."

Flo's hand found mine beneath the table, the squeeze she gave it making me turn and look at her. She looked tired — as we all did. The past few weeks had taken a toll on all of us, even if we'd tried not to let it get to us. I couldn't wait for it all to be over.

"Still," Rafael chimed in again, "I want to apologize for the part we've played in all of this. Even if it wasn't our fault. We're standing right behind you now."

"Thank you." There wasn't much else I could say. Not much else I knew to say, at least. And so I turned to Amara. "When do we do this?"

"The wedding. It's when he least expects it, given he thinks he succeeded in tearing your mother and you apart. She already sent out two more invitations so we can be there, so we just have to be subtle. Sebastian's need for a big show will come in handy for once, with him inviting a couple hundred people and all. Guy's ego is bigger than his brain."

I couldn't help but laugh. That was the understatement of a lifetime.

"There's someone else we need to involve, though." Flo addressed me now, her fingers squeezing mine once more. "Someone who's been a key player in this entire investigation from day one."

It didn't take a genius to figure out who she meant, especially when said key player appeared in my peripheral as if her words had summoned him to us. He took a seat next to Amara, his ginger-blonde hair matte in the dim light of the bar. "Phoenix." Connor nodded a greeting.

For the first time since I'd met him, I took a long look at Connor Williams. My half-brother. He looked so much like his father — our father — that I had the powerful urge to punch him straight in the face. The hair, the eyes, even the tone of his voice.

But what infuriated me even more was the similarities we shared. The same jawline. The same nose. The same haunted look in our eyes — a look only sons of a man like Sebastian Williams could have.

It was unbearable, suddenly. Unbearable to comprehend and process any of this. So many people were a part of the mess that was called my life, all of them trying to help and interfere and meddle with my business.

I'd thought I'd come to terms with this new reality, with the new identity that ran through my veins. I was wrong.

Suddenly, it became too much. Too much of Connor, too much of me, too much of everything, really. I didn't think much as I got up and marched through the dimly lit bar, weaving my way through top tables and chairs until I reached the courtyard. The midday sun hit me instantly, burning my skin and making me close my eyes while I retreated into the shadows of the adjacent office building.

The canopy offered some relief, and I thanked the heavens that people seemed to have been busy in their offices in the middle of the day, just so I could have a moment of silence outside. I shook my palms, somehow hoping that would help the tingling sensation in my fingers.

It didn't do much, though. No matter how often I wiped my hands over my shorts, they always came out sweaty and shaky, just as trembling as the breaths I took.

It was ironic, really. I knew I was outside; I knew there was no reason to feel claustrophobic — and yet, I felt like the walls were closing in on me. So much relied on me keeping my shit together, on me doing the right thing, on forgiving my mother and acting like she hadn't just shattered my world.

Footsteps approaching from the backdoor of the bar made me shake my head, trying to rid of the panic clogging my throat. I didn't want Florence to see me like that, didn't want to give anyone another reason to feel bad for me.

"I know you hate me." His voice surprised me enough to look up. Connor leaned against the wall next to me, one foot angled at the wall while he stared out into the empty courtyard. "I'm not your biggest fan, either."

My heart was still thundering in my chest, my hands still jittery and sweaty, and yet I couldn't help the laugh from my lips.

"It's true," he continued. "You've always been so arrogant, always got what you wanted while being rude as fuck to everyone. I mean, you got Florence Nyx. Twice." Connor chuckled humorlessly, his gaze now finding mine. The pain in his eyes was evident as ever, so evident that I couldn't help but feel for him, too. "You know, Sebastian always compared me to you. Always said you were the better driver, you were the better man. You got the car, got the girl, got the trophies... all things he wanted for himself, or wanted me to get for him. I always thought it was just because we were the same age and in the same sport. Turns out I was wrong."

I swallowed. Never in my life did I think Sebastian would hold my career over Connor, compare me to him. It felt preposterous. But now that reality had shifted, it didn't seem so unreal anymore.

"It wasn't about you. You could've won the championship and it still wouldn't have been enough."

"Maybe." Connor nodded. "Doesn't change that I wasn't the son he wanted."

"Neither was I."

The silence hanging between us confirmed what both of us knew: Nothing would've been enough for a man like Sebastian. And while I didn't give a shit about him or his goals, I didn't have to grow up with him. Connor was raised by him, had lived with him until he was old enough not to. Honestly, I was surprised he was as sane as he seemed, considering he'd lived with a psychopath most of his life.

"You think there's another one of us out there?" Connor asked with a smirk, relieving some of the tension. "Maybe it's Liam Drexler."

"Don't even joke about that," I retorted, unable to hide my amusement.

"We should do a DNA test to be sure. He's suspiciously dumb, and a huge asshole."

"He also has a face I want to punch into."

"Yup. They got that in common." Connor grinned, his shoulder bumping into mine.

"They sure do." I sighed and looked up at the sky, watching the clouds cover the blaring sun. It was damn hard to wrap my head around this mess, around the fact that I now had a half-brother who wasn't as bad as I'd thought he was.

The only one I'd ever identified as family was my mother, before Florence came into my life and changed my view of everything completely. Even ten years ago, she'd taught me that family wasn't just blood. It was loyalty, connection, and love. Didn't matter what DNA said when you knew you'd do anything to keep a person safe. That's what family was.

"I have something to tell you," Connor said, the smile on his lips disappearing.

"Don't tell me Michael is our grandfather," I quipped, trying to keep the conversation alive. I really didn't want to get back into serious business.

And for a brief moment, it worked. Because for the first time in ages, I heard Connor laugh. A full-on belly laugh that echoed in the empty courtyard and made him sound so much more real than he ever did. He'd always seemed like a shell of a man, never allowing himself to be who he truly was. It was surprisingly nice to see him happy, even if for just a moment.

"Unfortunately not." Connor shook his head and reached into his back pocket, retreating a folded piece of paper. He let it dance between his fingers, much like I enjoyed doing with any pen I came across. Yet another thing we had in common.

"What is it?" I asked, observing him.

"It's the phone number we're trying to trace. The one that leads to Sebastian's accomplice."

I furrowed my brows. "And why are you bringing it here?"

"Because I have a suspicion. The other day, I just looked at the digits and somehow... I don't know. It seemed familiar. I just need you to confirm."

"Why not show me sooner?" They had never revealed the number with the information he or Amara had given to us. It wasn't relevant, was what they'd said.

"I wanted us to be alone. There's so many people involved in this, so many to witness how our lives fall apart. If I'm right about this, then it's best if it's just the two of us."

The longer I talked to Connor, the more I realized we were so much more alike than I'd thought. We'd both lived a life in the spotlight with people sticking their noses into business that didn't concern them. We'd both experienced firsthand how easily a simple piece of paper could destroy our entire belief in life.

Maybe this would be another one of those moments. Another memory demolished by the power of ink on paper.

He handed the note over to me, a wary look on his face. Never in my life did I think I was glad Connor was with me when I found out yet another truth about my past. But as I unfolded the piece of paper and stared at the number written in sloppy handwriting, I couldn't help but be thankful.

Because I recognized the number instantly. It was ingrained in my brain. I'd seen it on my phone countless times, had dialed it daily for years.

"I'm right, then." Connor sighed, his voice making me look up at him. The expression on his face was exactly why I was thankful that it was him who'd shown this to me, because he didn't even try to hide his emotions. He didn't feel bad for me, didn't pity my predicament. He was simply furious, his intentions fueled by the desire to bring our piece of shit of a father down.

I didn't know what to say, think, or feel. All I could do was stare at the familiar phone number in my hands, the digits practically screaming at me for being a blind idiot.

"We should pay him a visit." Connor fished a key out of his pocket, the yellow-and-black Ferrari pendant glimmering in the sunlight. "What do you say? You up for a road trip?"

Author's Note

Alright, folks. I know this one's on the shorter side of chapters, but I mean... It's all about balance, right? Lol

Any ideas who they're visiting? And any thoughts on the relationship they're starting to build?

Stay safe, y'all!

Lots of love,

Jane