Chapter 263: What Really Happened To Joanne

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My chest heaved, tears burning at the corners of my eyes, but I refused to let them fall, not here. Not now.

"If you’re going to be mad at anyone, be mad at me," I said, my voice shaking but steady enough to carry the weight I needed it to. "I know you two don’t hate each other, you just hate the fact that I can’t choose between you both. I’m the one who woke up and started falling for both of you, it’s me. So be mad at me, not each other. Not over petty stuff like flashlights and cars and who’s driving. Just... stop. Please, don’t that get in the way of finding out the truth. This is our priority...and when we figure this out, we will resolve what’s going on between us."

Silence enveloped the room, so complete I could hear the snow whispering against the window outside.

Adrien’s expression softened first, the sharp edges of his anger melting away as he stepped closer, his voice rough but gentle. "Noah..."

Ethan’s hand found my shoulder, warm and steady. "Hey. This isn’t on you. None of it..."

Adrien reached out too, his fingers brushing my other arm, the touch light but grounding. "He’s right. This isn’t your fault. Not you, never you..."

But it was though...even if I had no control over who I fell for.

We stood there for what felt like a long moment, connected in the dim room, sharing the same charged air while the weight of everything pressed down on us. Then Adrien began pacing the small space, his boots softly thudding against the worn carpet. He stepped on a loose floorboard near the bathroom door.

It creaked. Loudly.

Adrien paused, tilting his head. He pressed down again. The board lifted slightly at one end, just enough to catch the light.

Ethan crouched beside him, flashlight beam cutting through the dust. "Wait—"

Together they pried it up, the wood groaning in protest. Underneath, wedged tightly in the narrow space between the joists, was a small, rolled-up sheet of paper. Adrien unrolled it carefully, his fingers steady despite a slight tremor.

It was a pencil sketch, detailed and almost loving of a woman’s portrait. The lines were soft but precise, and her eyes looked hauntingly familiar. My breath caught in my throat.

"That’s... the painting in the bathroom," I whispered, the words barely getting past the sudden lump in my throat. "The one above the sink mirror. It’s the exact same woman."

We moved as one, all three of us drawn to the small framed painting on the wall like magnets. I lifted it off its hook with careful hands. The back was sealed with old brown paper, brittle and yellowed. Adrien tore it open, the sound loud in the quiet room.

Taped inside, small and unassuming, was a black flash drive.

No one spoke. The air felt thicker, heavier, like the motel itself was holding its breath along with us.

We didn’t waste time celebrating or second-guessing. We slipped the painting back into place, pocketed the drive, and quietly snuck out the way we’d come, the snow swirling heavier now, coating our shoulders and muffling our footsteps as we piled into Ethan’s car—Adrien in the back, me up front, the flash drive feeling like a live wire in Ethan’s pocket.

We drove straight to Ethan’s house in silence, the only sounds being the wipers pushing snow off the windshield and the low hum of the heater battling the cold. No one argued. No one joked. The weight of what we might find sat between us, palpable.

Once we were inside Ethan’s room, door locked behind us and laptop open on the desk, Ethan plugged in the drive with fingers that weren’t entirely steady. The video file was labeled simply: For whoever finds this.

We pressed play.

Logan Seymour appeared on the screen, haggard, unshaven, eyes darting as if he expected the door to burst open any second. The timestamp read the day he died. His voice came through rough and exhausted but clear enough to send chills down my spine.

"If you’re watching this," he said, "then Keith Fell got to me. And if he got to me."

He swallowed hard, the sound audible even through the speakers.

"I was Joanne Fell’s lawyer six years ago. She came to me because she suspected her husband was having an affair. With Helen Valentine..."

I blinked in shock.

They told me and Adrien they met last year during a parent-teacher conference. They lied. It seemed like it started long before Joanne died.

The floor felt like it tilted beneath my feet. I could feel Adrien go rigid beside me, his shoulder brushing mine like he needed contact to stay upright.

Why...why would they lie about it?

Logan continued, the confession spilling out as if he’d rehearsed it a hundred times in the dark.

"Joanne was fed up and she wanted a divorce. Full custody of Adrien. Keith was bankrupt, living off her vineyard fortune and family money. When I let it slip that she was leaving him, he came to me with a deal. Help him ’get rid of’ her, and he’d make sure I kept permanent control of the Seymour car dealership—even after Ethan came of age. I’d still run it. And I agreed."

Logan’s voice cracked, raw and broken.

"I called Joanne to meet me at the café that night she died, I told her I wanted to discuss the divorce proceedings face to face. I knew Mr. Carlby had already tampered with her brakes. After the crash... I got the dealership. Keith got everything. He wasn’t bankrupt anymore...he was able to save his company with her money. He became a billionaire faster than I could fucking blink...then he married Helen years after she died, so it wouldn’t bring up suspicion."

He laughed then, a bitter sound that sent chills up my spine.

"I got greedy. Gambling debts. I borrowed millions. I tried to blackmail Keith for more money, threatened to tell everything if he didn’t pay. I knew he’d kill me for it. I almost welcome it. My life’s been one long string of disappointments and failure s. I was never the son my parents wanted. I treated my nephew Ethan like garbage because I thought it would make him stronger, turn him into a leader, not a follower like me. He has a good heart..."

Logan’s gaze pierced the camera, eyes glistening with what looked a lot like regret.

"I know I’m a horrible person. I know I deserve this. But Joanne... she was kind and I regret what happened to her. She was just a good woman forced to be married to the devil. I made this video as a final fuck you to Keith Fell. Because if I go down...that fucker better goes down too. So to whoever’s watching this, the evidence that can bring Keith down is in your hands now. Do it. Not for me. For Joanne."

The screen went black and the room was completely silent.

My hands shook so badly I had to clasp them together to make them stop. Ethan looked pale under the light of the laptop screen, like he might be sick. Adrien, he just stared at the frozen frame, his expression hollow, as if the video had scraped away everything he ever believed about his father.

No one moved and no one spoke.

The truth had finally hit us and it had shattered everything