Chapter 127

Nathan

I watched in horror as Olivia’s face contorted in confusion, her voice wavering.

“What do you mean, Colin?” she asked.

I could feel the tension in the room thicken. I knew my father well, and this was one of his manipulative games. I should have known that it would come to this. Without my mother here to scold him, he was a loose cannon.

And it seemed as though Jenifer wasn’t putting in any effort to control him, either. If anything, I suspected that she was egging him on, although for what reason I couldn’t be sure.

“When I picked you up the other night,” he began, looking at Olivia with a smirk, “you had dirt under your nails, that mysterious box in hand, and you mentioned Jenifer. I’m just curious.”

“I-I didn’t mean anything by it,” Olivia stammered, looking back and forth between Colin and Jenifer while the rest of the guests watched in amusement. “I was only trying to make conversation.”

“Conversation?” my father asked, cocking his head to the side. “The conversation should have been revolving around why you were sneaking around at night, driving your car into a ditch, and holding that strange… box with dirt all over your hands. But I didn’t ask, did I?”

Olivia’s face turned beet red. Seeing her caught off guard, every protective instinct I had flared up. Before she could say anything else, I squeezed her leg under the table and intervened.

“Dad,” I said, trying to keep my voice calm and even, “this isn't the time. We'll discuss it later.”

Colin’s eyes met mine, a sneer forming on his lips. “Indeed, we will.”

The rest of dinner was a blur. My thoughts raced, trying to piece together what was going on here. Something strange was happening between Jenifer, my dad, and my mom. I could sense it. Why did my dad feel the need to call Olivia out at dinner, in front of so many guests? Even for all of his abrasive personality, he didn’t just… do things like that. He had poise.

The moment we were done, I pulled my father aside into his study, hoping for clarity.

“Why did you do that in front of everyone?” My tone was accusatory. I was angry. Furious, even, for Olivia’s sake. She didn’t need this kind of upset.

He scowled, his usually composed face darkening.

“Olivia is the traitor’s daughter, Nathan. She might be conspiring with our enemies. She might be…” He lowered his voice, his eyes flickering over to the door. “...working with witches. I recognize boxes like the one she had. They’re made to hold remains, keep their life energy preserved so they can be resurrected.”

I swallowed. My father thought that Olivia’s father, Gamma Kamran’s, remains were inside that box. But they weren’t. It was filled with Alvin’s severed hand.

I almost wondered if it would be better if we admitted to my dad what we had done with Alvin, but I knew that he would be just as furious. He never trusted witches, and only ever saw those who worked with them as traitors and sneaks.

“Well, since you have nothing to say, I can safely assume that my son is either a complete moron or has been jaded by the traitor’s daughter,” he said, puffing his chest out and straightening to his full height once more. “It’s settled. I’ll be putting her in confinement.”

Anger bubbled up inside of me at the mention of confinement. It was something that hadn’t been done for decades. There was a place out in the woods behind the town, a place where traitors used to be sent to ‘think about’ their actions.

It was essentially a hole in the ground, with a constant guard. The prisoners would be exposed to the elements, fed sparingly, and guards often abused them since no one was around to stop them. Most people who were left in confinement came forth with their confessions within a week.

Those who didn’t… died.

“She's pregnant, dad!” I growled, clenching my fists at my sides. “You can't put her in confinement! I won’t allow it!”

As if on cue, the door creaked open, and in stepped Jenifer, her voice dripping with mock sweetness.

“What if it's not your kid she has in her belly?” she asked, sneering. “Would you still care?”

I felt my face heat up with rage. “It is my child, Jen. The Council has the paternity test. And even if it wasn't, I… I love Olivia. That child would be mine in every way that counts.”

I was lying. I knew that. But at this point, I had held up the lie that the baby was mine for so long that it felt true to me. For all intents and purposes, that kid was just as much mine as it was Olivia’s.

Even if we never had anything more than a friendship between the two of us, I still wanted to be like a father to that kid.

Jenifer’s lips twisted up into a smirk, but she said nothing. She didn't need to. The implication was clear.

My dad’s voice sliced through the tension. “If you're so sure of her, then keep Olivia under control.”

“She doesn't need controlling,” I spat back. “But I’ll protect her, no matter what it takes. I just didn’t think that I would have to protect her from my own kin.”

The room was thick with unspoken threats and accusations. I was left alone, my father and Jenifer departing with an air of superiority. Their words echoed in my mind.

Why were they so adamant about confining Olivia? And what was Jenifer's role in all this?

I had to investigate. I heard the sound of Jenifer and my dad descending the stairs to rejoin the party, which had moved to the parlor by now. As I stepped out into the hallway, I could hear the sounds of laughter and music emanating out. I was alone.

With these thoughts plaguing me, I made my way stealthily to Jenifer's room, hoping to find something that would provide answers. It felt wrong to probe like this, but after everything that had happened tonight… it felt necessary.

As I slipped inside, I heard the sound of haunting piano music lifting through the quiet air. I knew that it was Jenifer playing; and I was relieved for it, not just for the sweet sound of the music, but also because I knew that she was occupied downstairs.

I glanced around the dark room, finding mostly the usual trappings of a girl’s bedroom. A hairbrush, laced with long black hairs, sitting on the vanity. Dresses hanging in the closet. A few books, their pages curled and their spines creased, stacked on the bedside table.

There was nothing. Nothing of note.

I frowned and began to make my way back to the door to rejoin the party. But then, on the edge of the bed, I spotted a shirt. My heart raced; it looked eerily similar to the ones my father wore.

Just then, the music stopped. I heard applause, followed by a feeling of haste settling in my stomach.

Questions swirled in my head. What was it doing here? What connection did Jenifer and my father share?

Before I could process the information, footsteps approached. Jenifer's voice floated through the air, and I hurriedly moved towards the door, hoping to leave undetected.

But as I slipped out, she caught my arm, her eyes sharp and probing. “What were you doing in here, Nathan?”

“Looking for Olivia,” I replied quickly, avoiding her gaze.

“Olivia’s in the parlor with the others.” Her voice was filled with suspicion.

Without another word, I left, the weight of her stare heavy on my back. The evening's events played over in my mind. The confrontation at dinner, the mysterious shirt, and Jenifer’s cryptic words.

Something wasn't right. I needed answers, not just for my sake, but for Olivia and her unborn child. Whatever was unfolding, I vowed to get to the bottom of it.

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To be continued.