Page 55 of The Bad Brother

“He sent me a video of her sucking his dick two weeks before our wedding,” I tell her bluntly.

“I figured it was just Ethan being... Ethan , but when I ran into him at the club as few weeks ago, he told me how sorry he was about it and that he knew breaking off the engagement cost me my trust fund. That’s when it clicked.

He did what he did with Hanna and sent me that video so I’d break off the engagement and lose access to my trust fund.

Hurting me— costing me —has always been the goal.

” The laughter that’s been bubbling against the back of my throat surfaces on a soft scoff.

“You should’ve seen his face when I told him that there was no marriage clause attached to my trust fund and that I gained full access when I turned twenty-five.

I told him that our grandfather had seen him for who he really is before he died and that my inheritance had been three times the size of his.

” The corner of my mouth kicks up in a humorless smirk.

“In hindsight, that little reveal is probably what earned me a razor blade across the back.”

Sloane stares at me for a moment before she stands.

Rushing over to the island where she left her bag, she rummages through it for a few seconds before finding her phone.

Walking toward me while scrolling through it, she stops in front of me, offering me the phone before she sits back down.

Taking it from her, I look at the screen to find a video, already playing, the images flickering across it making me sick to my stomach.

A woman on her knees in front of my brother while he roughly thrusts into her open mouth.

If not for the fact that the woman in the video has dark hair, I’d swear it was the one he sent me of him and Hanna.

“He made that video the night of our engagement party,” Sloane tells me quietly. “The woman was my supposed best friend.”

“Amy Williams.” Unable to stomach anymore, I close the phone and hand it back to her. “She was my prom date the night I was crowned king.”

For a few moments, all we can do is sit here and stare at each other while the puzzle pieces click into place between us .

Finally, Sloane reaches for my hand. “How did you meet Tank?”

“He was Cal’s deputy,” I tell her quietly. “He was the one who read me my rights when I was arrested. He testified against me at my trial. Told the judge that he was the one who found the laptop used to message Lyla under my bed when they searched my room.”

“And?”

“ And I was convicted. The judge sentenced me to two years but I’d already served six months, waiting for my trial date so that meant I had eighteen months left.

” I give her a small shrug. “Tank volunteered at the prison, teaching boxing, a few times a month. I started taking classes. I was angry at him for his part in getting me locked up so any chance I had at hitting him, I was going to take.” The memory pushed what feels like a real smile onto my face.

“He cleaned my clock pretty good more than once but I kept coming to class until finally, I put him on his ass. Along the way, we got to know each other—like each other. After about a year, he asked me outright if I did it. Told me that if I did it, he needed to know. Explained to me that I’d already been convicted.

I was already serving time and they couldn’t punish me twice.

I told him the truth. That I had no idea who Lyla Strong was until the day he and Cal dragged me off that football field in handcuffs. ”

“He believed you.” It’s not a question. It’s a statement. One that tightens my chest and makes it hard to breathe.

“Yeah.” I nod, flicking her a quick glance before I look away.

“He told me that Ethan was the one who told him to look under my bed because that’s where I liked to hide stuff but Tank knew that wasn’t true because he’d already found a stash of Playboy s and a few letters from a girl I was seeing under a false bottom in one of my dresser drawers.

He didn’t think much of it at the time but during the trial, the prosecution showed pictures of the box I supposedly hid the laptop in.

It had about an inch of dust on it. If I was getting in and out of that box, every day, for almost a year, to hide the laptop I was using to message Lyla?—”

“There wouldn’t have been any dust on it,” Sloane finishes for me.

Instead of answering her outright, I just nod. “When I was finally released, Tank was there to pick me up and even though just about everyone told him he’d regret it, he brought me here. Gave me his name. Gave me a family.”

“Ethan admitted to me that he’s the one who stabbed Orton Redford.” She practically whispers it. Like she’s afraid he might be listening. “He doesn’t know it but he did.”

“What?” Heart pounding in my chest, the thud of it so heavy it almost hurts, I shake my head. “How? What?—”

“I asked him, outright if he did it,” she tells me in that same quiet tone. “He denied it, of course. Claimed he didn’t even know who Orton was, but then later, he called Orton an old man. I never mentioned his age. How would he know unless he’s actually seen him?”

“You shouldn’t have done that,” I tell her on a definitive head shake. “Ethan is?—”

“Dangerous. I know.” Nodding her head, Sloane gives me a wobbly smile. “So, what are we going to do about it?”

I can hear it in her voice—she believes me.

Even though I was convicted of doing horrible things to Lyla Strong and despite the fact that everything I just told her defies logic, Sloane believes me.

And even though I want more, I want her to stay—I want her —I know better than to ask for it because laying it all out for her, from beginning to end, was a reminder of what my brother is capable of. What he does when he sees me happy. When I start to build a life. When I try to start over.

He destroys it.

Lifting her hand to my mouth, I kiss the inside of her wrist. “Now you leave, Peach,” I tell her quietly. Lowering her hand, fingers still laced together, I offer her a half smile of my own. “And I let you.”