Chapter 2: Justice
1094 Words
MAEVE'S POV
The café is quieter than usual, with the occasional clink of cups and the low hum of voices blending with the faint jazz playing in the background. The warm aroma of roasted coffee beans wraps around me like a comforting blanket, but it does nothing to calm the storm raging inside me.
I spot my brother sitting by the window, his back to the morning light streaming through the glass. He’s scrolling through his phone, unaware of the world around him, his jaw tight with whatever thought is occupying his mind.
He’s a replica of Dad, down to the sharp angles of his face and the way his lips press together when he is focused.
It is upsetting, sometimes, how much he reminds me of what we lost. Unlike him, I take after Mom- lighter hair, softer features, the polar opposite of his dark intensity.
I walk over and, without thinking, flick the back of his head lightly. “Hey, genius.”
He startles, glaring up at me as he rubs the back of his head. “Really, Maeve?”
“Really,” I deadpan, slipping into the chair across from him. “You are so easy to mess with. How can you be so into your phone like that?”
He mutters something under his breath but doesn’t hide the small smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.
“Did you order for me?” I ask, nodding at the coffee cup in front of him.
“Nope. Thought you might actually be on time for once.”
I roll my eyes, flagging down a waiter to place my order. When I turn back to him, he's leaning back in his chair, his arms crossed, studying me with that laser focus of his.
“Alright, Maeve,” he says. “What is this all about? You said Asher Kingston came to see you. Are you sure?”
I hesitate, rolling my eyes as I grip the edge of the table for support. The words don’t come easily, but I force them out. “Of course, I am sure. His face is not one I am likely to forget.”
His reaction is immediate. His entire body stiffens, his eyes narrowing like a predator catching the scent of danger. “Why? What did he want?”
“Take a wild guess,” I say, keeping my tone even.
“What the hell was he doing at your hospital, Maeve? What did he say? What did he want?” His voice is sharp, filled with anger and disbelief.
I glance around, lowering my voice as I recount everything- how Asher came in claiming he was experiencing memory gaps, how he mentioned an estate he couldn’t stay away from, and my growing suspicion that it is our family estate.
When I finish, he sits forward, his elbows resting on the table, his fingers steepled under his chin. “Let me get this straight,” he says slowly. “He has just been going back to the scene of the crime like some kind of… what? A guilty ghost?”
“Something like that,” I reply. “It is not uncommon. Trauma can manifest in a lot of ways.”
“Trauma?” He scoffs, his lips curling into a sneer. “You think he is traumatized? The man who destroyed our family? Gee, I wonder why.”
I exhale, running a hand through my hair. “I don’t know, okay? But it is possible. Guilt can be just as powerful as fear or grief.”
He shakes his head, disbelief written all over his face. “He doesn’t get to feel guilty, Maeve. He doesn’t have the right. Not after the mess he left us with. Not after the way he left you. You were a kid who saw her parents die brutally and I don't see you having memory gaps. What a f*****g asshole! How dare he feel guilty and come asking for help?”
“I am not saying he does,” I snap, my voice rising. “But this isn’t about what he deserves. It is about what we can do with what he has given us.”
“Which is what? A vague story about blackouts and an estate he can’t stop visiting? That’s nothing.”
“It is a start,” I counter.
He leans back, crossing his arms over his chest. “And what do you plan to do with that start, huh? Play therapist until he spills his darkest secrets?”
I fall silent, my gaze dropping to the table.
His voice softens, but there is still an edge to it. “You are right, we do have a chance here, Maeve. A chance to get justice for Mom and Dad. Don’t tell me you are going to waste it.”
“I can’t just- l” I start, but he cuts me off.
“Yes, you can,” he says firmly. “You are in a position of power now. Use it.”
“It is unethical, Vince,” I argue. “I am his doctor, not some vigilante seeking revenge.”
“You are also their daughter,” he retorts, leaning forward again. “And they deserve justice. Don’t you think they have waited long enough?”
His words hit like a punch to the gut. I sit back, staring out the window, watching as a couple walks by, their kid between them, laughing and holding hands. A life we used to have. A life that was stolen from us.
“You are asking me to betray everything I have worked for,” I say quietly.
“I am asking you to do what is right,” he says just as quietly. “For them. For us.”
I close my eyes, the weight of his words pressing down on me.
He is right. As much as I hate to admit it, he is right.
Finally, I open my eyes and look at him. “Fine,” I say, my voice steady. “I will pay him a visit. Try to convince him to come back for another session.”
A slow smile spreads across his face, but it is filled with something darker. “That’s my sister.”
I stand, grabbing my bag. “Don’t get used to it,” I mutter, but there’s no real bite in my words.
I can't believe I am going to go beg my parents’ killer
Hopefully, Asher is desperate enough to fall for my pleas.
- Writer
