⭐ EPISODE 7: THE DISCOVERY
871 Words
The Faded Lie
The photograph felt like a burning forgery in my hand. Young Kane, smiling—a frightening, vulnerable sight—next to a man who looked impossibly familiar. But it wasn't the man's face that stunned me; it was the inscription, the word that felt like a direct punch to my core: "Prefects."
Two favorite Prefects. Love, Dad.
I raced to my laptop, my fingers flying over the keyboard. I didn't need to check student records this time; I checked the Rosewood High Archives website. Scrolling through old yearbooks, my breath hitched.
There he was.
The man in the photo, the man Kane called "Dad," wasn't just some alum. He was Mr. William Blackwood, Rosewood’s legendary former Head Prefect, who went on to be a distinguished politician—the very name that hung in a gilded frame outside the Principal's office, a symbol of Rosewood's pristine tradition.
And next to his picture, a name that made me gasp: Marcus Blackwood. Kane's older brother. Also a former Prefect.
The realization hit me like a physical force. Kane wasn't a random failure; he was the Blackwood Disgrace. The only son who couldn't—or wouldn't—follow the path of perfection laid out by his father and brother. His darkness wasn't just a persona; it was a furious rebellion against a legacy.
My blackmail wasn't about a lighter anymore. It was about exposing the Blackwood family's greatest secret to the school that worshipped their name.
The Second Night
I left for the garage early, fueled by fury, not fear. I didn't bother with a flimsy lie for my parents. I just said I was going out. I needed answers, and I needed them now.
I found Kane in the same dark corner, his massive frame hunched over an engine. He didn't look up when I entered.
"You're early, Prefect," he grunted, not a question, but a statement of my growing desperation.
I didn't open a book. I walked right up to him, the photo clutched in my hand, my voice vibrating with controlled anger.
"Who is the man in this picture, Kane?"
He froze. His movements stopped entirely. The silence in the garage was deafening. Very slowly, he straightened up and turned to face me. His cold eyes narrowed on the faded paper in my hand.
He didn't need to look at it closely. He knew exactly what it was.
"Where did you get that?" His voice was low and menacing, a different kind of anger than I had ever heard from him—a protective, personal rage.
"It was in the hat. The one you gave me last night." I thrust the photo at him. "The inscription says, 'To my two favorite Prefects: Love, Dad.' And the man in the picture is William Blackwood. Your father. The famous politician. The Head Prefect."
The Blackwood Disgrace
His mask shattered completely. His jaw was locked, his eyes blazing with a pain so deep it was almost unbearable to witness. He snatched the photo and crumpled it in his fist.
"Don't ever speak his name here," he warned, taking a violent step toward me.
I stood my ground, my anger finally overriding my fear. "Why? Why the charade, Kane? Why the delinquency? Why do you have to graduate so badly?"
He let out a harsh, defeated sound that might have been a laugh. "Because the deal isn't about my grades, Audrey. It's about his. My father's political career rests on his perfect legacy. If his youngest son fails to graduate from his beloved Rosewood, it will be spun as a massive failure of character—a political scandal."
He took a deep, shaky breath, the only time I had seen him lose control. "I have to graduate. It's the only way my family—my father—will keep giving money to the people who need it in this city. It's a blackmail deal between him and me. The only reason he hasn't cut me off entirely is that he needs me to keep the secret. And now, you're part of it."
Cliffhanger
The revelation stunned me into silence. His darkness wasn't purely self-destructive; it was a consequence of a brutal family expectation. He was a prisoner of his own legacy.
My anger dissolved into a confusing mix of pity and fierce determination.
"What about the Principal? Does he know?" I whispered.
Kane just stared at me, his eyes dark and wounded. "Every student has a perfect file in that office, Audrey. Every Prefect. Every legacy." He moved closer, placing his hands on the wall on either side of my head, trapping me again. "But in the shadows, every family has a secret. And you and I? We're the same now. We're both rule-breakers protecting a lie."
He didn't move to kiss me or touch me, but the sheer, possessive intensity of his gaze was a claim more powerful than any touch.
"Now," he ordered, his voice thick with a dark, desperate need, "teach me calculus. I need to be perfect."
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