hell won't. He's still stuck on his stupid fucking vendetta because I fucked June first.
I ring the video intercom, and a maid's face appears on the video screen. I don't recognize her, but her eyes light up when she sees me.
"Ah, Mr. Miller!" she exclaims. "Any luck in finding June?"
She thinks I'm Parker, and her words fill me with worry. Where the fuck is June if even Parker's looking for her?
"Not just yet," I reply. "Let me in, please."
Luckily, she doesn't ask how I got there or where the car is and just buzzes me through. I walk up the round driveway to the estate, admiring the beautiful house Dad and Rachel's hard-earned money paid for.
It seems like Parker's away today, and I'm grateful for that. I want to believe he's out looking for June just like I am, but I don't trust him anymore. Maybe I never fucking did.
I greet the enthusiastic maid who also seems concerned about June. With her help, I turn the house on its head. I look for June everywhere, even in the attic, where Parker's sheet-covered paintings are. I don't miss the spectacle in the main hall. Our family portrait is ruined, and I know Parker's the one who did this. After he left our apartment, I saw what he did to the painting he made of us. He creates beautiful things... but he loves to destroy them, too. I guess he's always been like that.
I remember the butterfly we'd kept in my mother's old jewelry box. The memory is so old, it feels fragile and fleeting in my mind. But some things are still so clear. Parker's idea to pin down the insect. To hurt it. Not to let it get away. It was all his idea. And I went along with it even though it made me fucking sick.
And then I remember Junebug, my sweet Junebug, going to save the butterfly in the middle of the night. The memory feels different now. I can still feel the butterfly's spindly legs in my palm as I crushed it. I didn't want to hurt it. I just wanted to relieve it of its misery. It wouldn't have lived, anyway. My sweet, idealistic June wanted to let it go, but it would never have recovered from what Parker and I had put it through. It would be eaten alive by something stronger than it. But I didn't have the heart to tell June that. Better to feed her some bullshit white lie and pretend I was the monster, not my brother. My brother, who learned how to hide his dirty, dark secrets better after that, hiding the animals he loved to hurt in places June couldn't find.
As the maid, Patty, and I turn the house on its head looking for my stepsister, I think of the beautiful raven-haired girl whose face my twin has ruined. She looked so much like June. Frighteningly so. And Parker had done that to her, carved her face up like a grotesque smile. Her life was ruined. Gone in an instant because she made a single mistake by trusting my brother.
I grit my teeth together, groaning in frustration and running my hands through my hair when we can't find June anywhere.
"Mr. Miller, do you think she's okay?" Even Patty looks nervous now, and I don't know what the fuck to tell her. My father's constant mantra rings out in my head—Familia ante omnia. He would want me to protect Parker at all costs. But after what June told me yesterday, I'm wondering just how twisted Dad was. And whether I should believe anything out of my twin's mouth...
"I'm going to keep looking," I mutter. "But if there's nothing in a few hours, I want you to call the cops. Understand?"
She nods, a grave expression on her face as she clutches a hand to her chest. "Miss Wildfox... Do you think she's okay, sir?"
I don't answer, and tears spring to her eyes as I reach out to comfort her awkwardly. "I'll make sure she's okay. I'll find her and bring her back."
Patty nods just as we hear the front door opening. Our eyes meet, and she knits her brows together.
"I'll go check," I say hurriedly. "Remember, Patty. If something's off, call the cops."
She nods and disappears down the hallway, her shoulders hunched. I take the grand marble staircase back into the main hall, and my whole body tenses when I come face-to-face with my twin.