when he drops Mackenzie’s thick stack of papers onto the table next to the file. I haven’t so much as opened it since the night this clusterfuck started. So much has happened, and I haven’t had a chance to do shit, let alone read whatever lies she’s surely written in there.
“Where the hell did you get this?” I demand through a narrowed gaze.
Dan shrugs, a cold gleam in his eyes. “I figured someone should read it at least. You had it sitting on the coffee table.”
It’s on the tip of my tongue to berate him, but I honestly don’t even have the strength to do so. I’ve been up for almost thirty hours now and the short ten-minute nap I took earlier isn’t going to cut it. My brain isn’t processing the way it normally does.
My lips thin into a grim line. “Fine, is there something you’d like to share before I open either of these?” I ask with a cold, underlying tone.
Dan shakes his head, keeping his lips sealed on his findings. “You know where to find me.”
With that, he departs, leaving me to the file and a tense silence. With a heavy sigh, I eye the file. I’m a numbers and facts guy. It only makes sense that whatever is in that file will most likely make the most sense because it’s factual. But whatever is written there, in the thick stack? That could go either way.
I want to know the truth. I need it. But a part of me isn’t quite ready to despise Mackenzie any more than I already do. But at this point, I was sure there was no avoiding it.
Rubbing my bottom lip contemplatively, my gaze darts between the two stacks on my desk. With a sigh, I gravitate toward Mackenzie’s and turn to the first page.
I’m not disappointed.
Not in the least.
In fact, I’m speechless.
Three minutes.
Three minutes or more is all it takes to create life.
Nine months that life grows into years of a beautiful creation.
Seconds, minutes, days, years—I had it all with my sister. The sibling I shared more than blood with. We shared the same thoughts, the same birthday, and the same face. There wasn’t much we didn’t share. She was me, and I was her. And I’d like to believe one day that could’ve been enough for our relationship.
So, you see, seconds, minutes, days, years—it doesn’t matter how long you’re given because all it took was one night and she was taken from me. Murdered in cold blood. Ripped from me forever.
Twins don’t just share the same face or similar DNA. They share the same soul, the same life. You can’t kill one without killing the other. And that was the mistake they made.
They left me alive.
And written from here on is all the proof you’ll need to find them, to incarcerate them. To make them pay for sins that are long overdue.
My name’s Mackenzie Wright, and this is the story—scratch that—these are the events that led up to the murder of my sister. The story of five wealthy young men getting away with murder.
A deep pit settles in my stomach when I stop reading to flip the page. I know deep down, whatever I read on the next page, will change everything I know about Mackenzie and everything I’d ever believed about us.
Suddenly, every mistake I’d ever made before now slams into me.
I squeeze my eyes shut, and I’m suddenly transported back in time. Nine years ago, to be exact. The night that could’ve changed everything.
Past
I’m just finishing up another lap when I feel a looming presence near the other end of the pool. I flip, using my feet to push off the tile wall, and turn in the pool. Wiping the water out of my eyes, I pause, staring up at a disheveled Vincent. He’s standing at the lip of the pool, and he looks like he wants to jump in and never resurface.
There’s a heaviness in the air. I use swimming as a way to process and compartmentalize. Some people meditate; some people turn to drugs and fucking women. I like to swim. That is my vice. But the clear head I just had a few seconds ago is now gone. With a sigh and a silent curse, I climb out of the pool.
“How bad is it?”
When he doesn’t say anything, and I turn around to look at him, I know it’s bad. Ever since I’ve been back from vacation, the guys have been acting different. It looks