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Chapter 819:

The private lounge was a cave of black leather and crimson velvet. Cole collapsed onto the central sofa and reached for the crystal decanter on the side table. Macallan. Twenty-five years. He unscrewed the top and drank directly from the bottle.

The whiskey burned his throat. He welcomed it. He drank again and again, until the bottle was half-empty and the edges of the room began to soften.

Lucas lowered himself into the opposite chair. He did not turn on the main lights. “Cole, what the hell happened to you? You’re bleeding. Let me call my doctor p>

“She signed.” Cole’s laugh was wet and broken, and he ignored the offer of a doctor. “The divorce. Twelve billion in assets. Gone. Poof.” He waved his hand, nearly dropping the bottle. “Like it never mattered p>

Lucas exhaled slowly, deciding not to press the issue of medical attention for now. “That’s a lot of money, Cole. But it’s just money. The Compton Group can absorb p>

“It’s not the money.” Cole’s voice cracked upward, shrill and desperate. He set the bottle down with a crack that threatened the crystal. “Don’t you understand? She never wanted me. Not for a single day. Not for a single hour p>

He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, his face in his hands. “Three years. I thought she loved me. I thought she was obsessed with me. I thought —” His shoulders shook. “I thought I was the one with the power. I thought I was withholding affection, punishing her, teaching her a lesson p>

𝘋i𝘀c𝗈𝘷𝗲𝘳 𝘩id𝖽e𝗇 g𝖾𝗆𝘴 𝘰𝗻

Lucas was very still. “And p>

Cole looked up. His face was streaked with tears and whiskey, the skin around his eyes swollen and red. “She married me because I look like my brother. Caleb. The twin who died in Switzerland seven years ago p>

Lucas’s expression did not change, but his hand tightened on the arm of his chair.

“Caleb saved her life. Pulled her back from a cliff. Died in an avalanche trying to protect her.” Cole’s voice was monotone now, reciting facts that had burned themselves into his memory. “She thought I was him. Or close enough. A replacement. A substitute.” He spat the word. “That’s what she called me. A living memorial. A defective copy p>

He grabbed the bottle again, but his hand was shaking too badly to drink. Whiskey sloshed onto his already-ruined trousers.

“I let Alycia Beasley destroy her. I let her steal June’s money, poison her, drive her to —” Cole’s throat closed. “I killed our child. Did you know that? I hung up the phone when she was bleeding out. I was at a charity gala. With Alycia p>

Lucas stood. He walked to the bar and poured two fingers of whiskey into a clean glass, brought it back, and pressed it into Cole’s trembling hand.

“Drink this. Slowly p>

Cole threw it back in one gulp. The glass shattered when it hit the floor. He did not notice. He was staring at the wall, seeing nothing, seeing everything.