Midnight
1682 Words
I lay in bed for hours, staring at the ceiling as the house slowly went quiet. The clock on my nightstand ticked down ten o’clock, eleven, eleven thirty. Every floorboard creak made me sit up straight, half expecting Victoria or my dad to walk in and ask what I was doing.
At eleven forty five, I slipped out of bed and pulled on dark jeans and a hoodie. I’d left my sneakers by the door so I wouldn’t make noise, but my bare feet were cold on the marble floors. I crept down the hall, past my dad and Victoria’s room lights off, only soft breathing coming from inside and pushed open the back door as quietly as I could.
The lawn was dark except for the moon and a single bulb glowing over the studio door. I could see a shadow moving inside before I even got close, and my heart started racing faster.
Leo opened the door before I could knock, pulling me inside and sliding the lock home with a soft click. “I was starting to think you’d back out.”
“Never.” I stepped into the warm studio, the familiar smell of paint and woodsmoke wrapping around me. “So what did you find?”
He led me to a corner where a metal filing cabinet sat next to his easel. Pulling out a thick folder, he laid it on the workbench. “Marcus was keeping a journal. Wrote down everything he uncovered shell companies, offshore accounts, payments to people with criminal records.”
I leaned closer, scanning the pages. Numbers and names I didn’t recognize, but the handwriting was neat and urgent. “What were they doing?”
“Money laundering. Dad’s been funneling company funds through art galleries and ‘charities’ for years. Marcus was going to take it to the authorities.” Leo pointed to a line near the bottom of one page. “The night he died, he told Dad he’d be going to the cops first thing in the morning.”
“So your dad had him killed.” The words came out flat, but my stomach twisted into knots.
“I don’t know for sure. But he had motive—and the money to make it look like an accident.” He flipped to another page, his hands steady now. “And then there’s this.”
It was a photo….Marcus standing next to a woman with dark hair and a warm smile, both of them holding coffee cups and laughing. In the background, a man in a dark suit stood by a black car, watching them with cold eyes.
“That’s Ethan Croft…..Dad’s business partner,” Leo said. “I found out he was the one who recommended cutting Marcus’s brake lines. Paid off the mechanic to keep his mouth shut.”
“Did you go to the police?”
“They won’t touch it. Dad’s donated too much money to too many campaigns. Ethan’s got friends everywhere cops, judges, even city officials.” He looked up at me, his eyes dark and serious. “That’s why I needed help. I can’t do this alone.”
I looked from the papers to his face saw the weight he’d been carrying all this time, the loneliness that had probably been eating him alive. Without thinking, I reached out and touched his hand, my fingers wrapping around his.
“I’ll help you,” I said. “Whatever you need.”
He squeezed my hand back, his thumb tracing slow circles on my skin. “It’ll be dangerous. If they find out we’re digging—”
“I don’t care.”
The words were out before I could stop them, but I meant every one. Something about being here with him, surrounded by his art and his secrets, made everything else feel small. The mansion, the fancy clothes, the rules about who I was supposed to be none of it mattered.
He pulled me closer, his hands sliding up my arms to cup my face. His eyes were fixed on mine, and in the dim light from the single bulb overhead, they looked almost black.
“You don’t even know me,” he said, his voice rough.
“I know enough.”
He leaned down then, and his lips brushed mine soft at first, like he was afraid to scare me off. But when I didn’t pull away, he kissed me harder, more urgent. My hands found their way to his chest, gripping his shirt as he pulled me closer, so close there wasn’t a breath of space left between us.
His lips moved down my neck, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. I tilted my head back, letting out a soft sigh, and he groaned against my skin deep and raw and making me feel like I was going to melt into him.
“Leo,” I whispered, my fingers tangling in his hair. “We shouldn’t”
“Shouldn’t what?” He lifted his head to look at me, his eyes dark with want. “Want each other? Because I do. And I think you do too.”
Before I could answer, a bright light flashed through the window….headlights cutting through the dark.
Leo pulled back fast, his hand covering my mouth before I could gasp. We froze, listening as a car door slammed outside, followed by footsteps crunching on gravel.
“Leo? I know you’re in there!” A woman’s voice sharp, familiar. Elena. His sister. “I saw your light on and someone else’s shoes by the back door!”
Leo’s eyes were wide with panic as he jumped off the workbench and pulled my hoodie down over me. He grabbed a large canvas and propped it up in front of us just as the doorknob jiggled.
“Just a second!” he called out, his voice steady even though his hands were shaking as he adjusted his shirt.
I slid off the workbench, trying to smooth my hair and catch my breath at the same time. The canvas was thin enough that I could see Elena’s shadow moving on the other side of the door.
“Leo, open up!” She pushed the door open further, and I ducked down low, holding my breath. “Don’t lie to me I saw two sets of footprints in the grass. If this is about that new girl”
“Sofia’s my sister now. That’s all she is.” His voice was tight, and I could see his hand clenched at his side. “Drop it, Elena.”
“I’m trying to protect you! Dad’ll kill you if he finds out you’re still poking around about Marcus let alone with her.”
“Poking around? I’m trying to find out who murdered my brother!” Leo stepped forward, blocking the doorway completely. “Now get out of my studio…some of us have work to do.”
Elena stared at him for a long moment, then let out a sharp breath. “Fine. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
She turned and walked away, her footsteps loud on the gravel. Leo waited until he couldn’t hear her anymore before closing the door and locking it behind him.
He turned to look at me, and for a second, neither of us said anything. Then he let out a laugh that was half relief and half frustration.
“Close call,” he said, running a hand through his hair. “Too close.”
I nodded, still trying to steady my breathing. “She almost saw me.”
“I know.” He crossed the room and pulled me into his arms, holding me tight against his chest. “I’m sorry I should have been more careful.”
“It’s not your fault.” I wrapped my arms around him, breathing in his familiar scent. “I’m the one who agreed to meet you here.”
He pulled back to look at me, his hands cupping my face again. “Do you regret it?”
“Never.”
He kissed me then soft and slow this time, like we had all the time in the world. When he pulled away, his eyes were serious.
“Elena’s right about one thing,” he said. “If Dad finds out about us… it won’t be pretty. He’ll do whatever it takes to make it stop.”
“I don’t care.” I leaned into his touch. “We’ll find a way to make them understand.”
Leo smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Maybe. But first, we’ve got to make sure we have all the proof we need. Marcus’s journal there’s more in there than I’ve shown you. Tomorrow night, after everyone’s asleep we’ll go through it together, cover to cover.”
He leaned down and kissed my forehead. “But for now? You need to get back to the house before anyone notices you’re gone.”
I nodded, even though I didn’t want to leave. He walked me to the door and opened it, then pulled me close one more time.
“Midnight tomorrow,” he whispered against my ear. “Don’t be late.”
“I won’t.”
I slipped out into the dark yard, my heart still racing from the kiss and the close call. By the time I made it back to my room, I could still feel his hands on me, still smell paint on my clothes.
I locked my door behind me and slid down to the floor, pulling out Marcus’s journal from under my bed where Leo had hidden it earlier. The cover was worn and soft, the pages yellowed with age.
I opened it to the first page and started reading:
The truth doesn’t always set you free. Sometimes it just makes you stronger.
I turned the page, and a photo fell out Marcus and a woman with dark hair and a small star carved into her thumb. Exactly like mine.
My blood ran cold.
The woman in the photo was my mom.
- Writer
