A/N: Hey everyone! How have you all been doing? I'll be honest, I've had my ups and downs over the past couple months, and I have really struggled to find motivation lately. Has anyone felt that too? I hope you all are keeping safe and coping as well as you can. Some days are truly better than others!

Without further ado, here's the next instalment that will provide a much needed escape from all of that. Enjoy!

Chapter 50: Dead Bass Walking

Hey Upper East Siders, Gossip Girl here, and I have the biggest scoop ever. Word has it that Big Bart Bass was seen walking out of his Park Avenue penthouse with a new accessory he received for Christmas this year: handcuffs. A man who owned some of the tallest buildings in Manhattan is now facing the prospect of being sent up the Hudson River. Perhaps all good things do come to a sobering end after all.

Evelyn paced the length of the kitchen island while their Christmas dinner lay abandoned on the dining room table. Half of the cold turkey was carved up, the foie gras congealed, and their half-drunk glasses of red wine were an afterthought.

Evelyn checked her phone for the time. Almost two hours had passed since her dad was arrested. Although she had reminded herself of this fact a dozen times in the elapsed two hours, it hadn't felt any more definite or real each time she said it.

And yet, the police officer's statement was the truth as they knew it in that moment. Her father, Bartholomew Bass, was arrested for arson resulting in the murder of her mother.

All of these years she thought that her birth was responsible for her mother's death. It was validated from the likes of Aunt Kim and her father himself. Was she led to believe a lie? Or could both statements be true? Was there enough room for more than one answer?

The longer she paced, the longer her list of questions grew.

"Can you please stop pacing? You're making me dizzy," Chuck said from the armchair facing her.

Chuck pinched the bridge of his nose with one hand, the other balanced a glass of scotch. He had one leg crossed over the other revealing his favourite pair of purple stripped socks.

Evelyn paused her pacing. She uncrossed her arms, her hands slapping her sides. "And do what? Sit here and do nothing?"

"And what exactly does pacing accomplish?" Chuck asked.

"It helps me think."

"That's a dangerous thing to do right now."

"You've been sitting there drinking in silence for the past hour. You're telling me you're not thinking about what just happen?"

"I didn't say I wasn't thinking about it," Chuck said. "I just said that it's dangerous."

"I can't help it. I'm just…I-I don't know what to think."

Chuck swirled the amber liquid in his glass. The liquid rose higher and higher, reaching the rim of his glass, threatening to spill over.

"It's best not to think," Chuck said. "A curious mind is a treacherous thing."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Chuck locked eyes with Evelyn. He didn't answer immediately. His gaze on her was probing, as he tried to find the right approach to express himself.

"Thinking leads to questions, and questions don't always lead to the answers you want to hear."

Evelyn took two hesitant steps toward Chuck. "Is there something you're not telling me?"

"I know about as little as you do," Chuck said. "I've been asking myself the questions you've been thinking of from your pacing."

With their lives having diverged to different parts of the island, Evelyn never wondered if Chuck had reservations about his father once he quit Bass Industries. She was so wrapped up in her own petty matters that the coincidence didn't even occur to her. Perhaps Chuck was more aware of their family secrets then he let on.

"And what do you think?" Evelyn said.

Chuck took a long drink. "I think a few skeletons in dad's closet have been discovered."

Evelyn shook her head. "No way. There's no way he—he…you know to mom."

"How can you know that?" Chuck said. "You were in the womb, and I was too young to remember."

"You think he did it?" Evelyn said.

"I think if it's surfaced after all these years, it's possible."

"I can't believe this. How can you be so quick to take this accusation as truth?"

"How can you not question what just happened tonight?" Chuck said.

"I am question it! I've been questioning it for the past two hours! I'm just not jumping to conclusions."

Evelyn rubbed her tired eyes and combed her fingers through her hair. How could Chuck think dad was guilty automatically? Did he have such little faith in him all this time that he couldn't be trusted at all?

"Chuck, what does this mean? For us."

Chuck looked at his finger printed tumbler and pursed his lower lip.

"It means everything is going to change," Chuck said.

The elevator pinged, and Evelyn raced to see who it was. Lily appeared alone, and the only sign of shock from the evening was her exasperated sigh.

"Where's dad?" Evelyn said.

Lily removed her leather gloves. "He's at the police station."

"Surely, this is all a misunderstanding, right?" Evelyn said.

Lily patted Evelyn's hand. "Of course, it is, dear. It's just standard procedure that he has to spend the night at the station."

"A night?" Evelyn said.

"I have to wait until tomorrow morning to pay his bail, so he will be released tomorrow morning at the latest."

"And then what?"

"We'll find out in the morning," Lily said. "I know it's been a stressful evening for us, and it's getting late, so let's try to get some sleep, okay?"

Chuck drained his glass and stood. "I couldn't agree more, Lily."

He started for the elevator, pressing the button.

"Wait, where are you going?" Evelyn said.

"I don't live here. I can come and go when I please."

"That's not answering my question."

The elevator doors opened. "Evelyn, just go to bed."

"No! I'm not tired, and by the looks of it, neither are you."

Chuck stepped in the elevator and pressed the ground floor button.

"Go to bed," Chuck said. "I'll see you in the morning."

"Chuck—"

The elevator door shut.

"Just let Chuck be, Evelyn," Lily said as she walked up the stairs to bed. "He has his way of processing things. Now get some rest."

Evelyn watched Lily disappear to the bedroom and let out an exasperated groan.

Evelyn threw on her coat and checked her phone. No messages. She pressed the elevator button and dialled one of her most frequently called numbers. The ring tone droned on and on until it went to voice mail. The elevator pinged and Evelyn hopped in and pressed the button for the door to close.

Chuck wasn't the only one who had his way of processing things. So did she.

Ozzy zipped up his grey hard sided suitcase without difficulty. The zipper glided its way around the rounded corners, meeting at the top handle. Ozzy was all packed up, and it wasn't even ten yet. It was a new record.

Packing was a welcome distraction from the news his mom relayed him that evening. His father was moving to New York. His father. The one he remembered meeting at two of his more reckless and insolent moments.

Ozzy picked up his luggage and carried it downstairs to the front door. His mom had already packed and set her luggage by the door, and Dash had finished his packing earlier that afternoon.

As soon as he set down the luggage, the doorbell rang.

"Mom," Ozzy called.

His mom appeared at the top of the stairs in her silk pajamas. "Who could that be at this hour?"

Ozzy opened the door, revealing two police officers.

"Hey, kid. Is your mom or dad home?" The taller officer said.

Ozzy didn't respond. He focused on the badges that shined under the porch light.

"Uh…yeah," Ozzy finally said. "Just a sec."

His mom had found her plush robe and stepped downstairs.

"Mrs. Montgomery?"

"That's me. How may I help you officers?"

"Is your husband home?"

"Um, yes. Why?"

"We need to speak with him."

His mom nodded, her hand gripping the door handle tight. "Very well. I'll let him know you're here. Please, step inside."

His mom disappeared upstairs, and Ozzy stepped beside their luggage to make room for the officers. The one officer looked at the suitcases suspiciously.

"Going somewhere?"

"St. Bart's. For the holidays," Ozzy said. Under the officer's gaze, he felt the need to over explain his answer to avert any suspicion they might have of him or their family.

His mom returned with Philip behind her. They spoke to each other in hushed tones. Dash also peered at the scene from the top of the staircase.

"Philip Montgomery?"

"Yes?"

"You are under arrest for corporate espionage with connection to Bartholomew Bass at Thorpe Industries."

Any worries or contemplations Ozzy had regarding his father's return were completely irrelevant now. Philip arrested? Corporate espionage? It felt as if the sky opened up and a meteor hurtled down on their house.

His mom's eyes were wide, her had gripped onto Philip's wrist. "Officers, there must be some misunderstanding."

"No ma'am," the taller officer said after reading Philip his Miranda rights. "We need to take him into police custody for questioning."

"Wait! I'll come with you," Ozzy's mom said.

"You can come to the police station in a different vehicle, ma'am," The shorter officer said.

As Philip was escorted out of the house, Dash stumbled down the stairs. They watched the officers guide him to the back seat of the police car. They didn't force him into the car. They opened the door in service, and Philip obeyed the ritual. It was too dark to see Philip's pale face looking back at them. Red lights flashed on the top hood of the car, and after a few moments, the car pulled away.

"What just happened," Dash said. It was more of a statement than a question, neither of which Ozzy nor his mother could answer.

"Okay, boys. I'm going to change and go to the station to see what's going on," Ozzy's mom said.

"I'm not staying here," Dash said. "I'm coming with you."

"Dash, there's no need to worry," Ozzy's mom said. "I'm sure this is all a misunderstanding, and once your father has been questioned, he'll be acquitted."

"I'm coming with you," Dash repeated.

His mother turned to Ozzy for support. She was looking for him to counter Dash's point, to say that they'd stay home and wait, which was the more agonizing option.

"Dash is right," Ozzy said. "I think we should all go. Together."

After a moment's pause, his mom finally met his gaze. "Fine. Get your coats and wait for me in the car. If you're not there and ready, the car leaves without you."

In his haste, Ozzy threw on his coat and jumped in the waiting car, his phone forgotten on his desk.

Chuck sat in the Bass limo while parked on the corner of Ninety Fifth Street and Fifth Avenue. The familiar green awning with the one thousand, one hundred and thirty-six building number etched on its sides was both inviting and excluding. Chuck held his phone in his hand, his screen reflecting Blair's cellphone number. All he had to do was press the green call button.

Chuck pinched his tear ducts and began to rub the lids of his eyes. All of this time he wondered, no suspected, that Bart had done something all of those years ago, and tonight he was proven right. Yet, Chuck felt no glee or satisfaction for the validation of his suspicions. He felt empty. He felt as if he just discovered that all of his designer suits in his closet were knockoffs. Everything he had believed in, everything he stood for, had all been a lie.

Chuck gazed at the solid brick building. It wasn't a tall skyscraper that his father would have invested in. It was a mature Upper East Side building; its residents were investment bankers, artists, and philanthropists known for their old money and esteemed pedigree. He always thought he was a colleague, an equal to them. He had grown up in similar circumstances, had he not? He went to the same schools they did, had as much money as they did, had opportunities like they did. He remembered he once told Nate that he relished the pleasures money gave him. He wouldn't have been exposed to that pleasure unless his father had committed arson to catapult them into these circles. Suddenly, that money felt devalued, counterfeited.

Chuck had been involved enough in the gossip scene through the years to know that they weren't the first family to go through a scandal. He didn't have to look too far for an example. The Captain was charged for embezzlement and fraud a couple years ago. He was serving time while Anne rebuilt their reputation and family standing again with help from the Vanderbilt's. But the Basses didn't have the Vanderbilt's. They didn't have anyone.

Chuck looked at his phone again, his thumb hovering over the green button. When he first heard the news, the only person he thought about telling was Blair. She would understand the gravity of the situation. She'd want to take on his problem as her own and find a way to solve it.

Chuck gripped the handle and paused when he saw the doorman open the front doors. He wheeled out a bell cart stacked with Blair's Louis Vuitton luggage. Chuck furrowed his brows and drew down the window for a better view. In his haste to leave the Locke and Key Christmas party, he didn't think to ask Blair if she was leaving the city for the holidays. Perhaps she had planned to visit her father in France for Christmas?

Eleanor appeared with Cyrus with another bell cart being pushed behind them. Eleanor called Blair to hurry up and ducked into the limo. Blair appeared, still outfitted in the same green dress she wore to the party, her tote bag filled with magazines. She looked happy.

The back of Chuck's head thudded against the head rest. His first instinct was to stop her, convince her to stay and weather this storm with him. After all the stress of campaigning and studying for final exams, the last thing she needed was another mess to clean up.

Blair waited for the door man to store all the luggage in the back trunk, and only scolded him twice to be careful. She then disappeared into the limo.

"Arthur? Take me to Midtown please," Chuck said.

Their limos parted in opposite directions. Chuck reasoned that it was better this way, that perhaps she was better than him, she always had been, and the last thing she needed to slow down her momentum was him.

Evelyn rapped the front door of the Montgomery household. She stood at the solid mahogany front door, waiting. The wind had picked up that night, and it pierced through her winter coat. Evelyn rang the doorbell twice more. She didn't hear the thunder of footsteps approaching the other side of the door, the clicking of the lock unlatching, or the swoosh of the door swinging open.

Evelyn leaned her forehead on the cold wood and said, "Come on."

She rang the doorbell again. No answer.

Evelyn stuffed her hands in her pockets and stepped through the flowerbeds toward the window. She peered inside. The drawing room was untouched, and all the lights except the front hall were turned off. No one was home.

Evelyn stepped back onto the walkway and returned to the street. She removed her phone from her pocket and dialled Ozzy's number. It rang and rang and rang all the way to voice mail.

Great. Just when she needed him most, he wasn't around. Why did she think that now they were together for what, five hours, that would change things? Maybe jumping into a relationship with Ozzy had been a mistake.

Evelyn walked the sidewalk, as light snowflakes began to fall. The wind whistled; the traffic had slowed.

Evelyn always had felt the instinct to run. It felt natural and necessary to run away from her problems, and tonight she felt no exception. However, this time was different. This time, there was nowhere to run toward. Nowhere to hide. Nowhere to wander and forget.

She couldn't wander the streets of New York like she did when she found out about Dash's infidelity. Every passing building was a reminder of her father's legacy, a reminder of the accused crime that would cast doubt on his innocence. She couldn't tuck away the memories she had with her father. Instead, she found herself indulging in them, using them to sift through what was truth and what was a lie. There were more truths than lies in her memories. Could that justify that her father wasn't a bad person? She wasn't sure if that's how it worked.

Evelyn walked and walked, and she pondered everything she had come to know and understand about her father. What was true? What wasn't? The longer she walked, the cloudier her judgement became.

Evelyn's toes grew numb, and she started to feel a tingling pain with each step. She couldn't run anymore. She just had to face the situation for what it was: her father was arrested tonight. He may have murdered her mother.

It was a terrifying thought. Was her father a…killer? How could she feel safe at home if he was responsible for her mother's death? A mother she always wanted and felt robbed of?

Evelyn reached for her phone and made one last call. She dialled Chuck's number, and it went to voicemail after two rings. Great. First Ozzy was nowhere to be found, and now Chuck was avoiding her.

Evelyn raised her hand in the air, her fingernails now blue, in an effort to hail a cab. As the nearest cab whizzed past her, her phone vibrated in her pocket.

"Nate?" Evelyn said.

"Evelyn, where are you?"

"I'm…out for a walk."

Nate sighed. "What's your closest intersection?"

"Park and East 90th Street. Why?"

"Stay there. I'm coming to pick you up."

"Nate, that's not necessary. I'm hailing a cab. I was planning on going home."

"That's just as believable as you going for a walk on a December evening," Nate said. "I heard what happened to your dad. I've been trying to get a hold of Chuck, but he's not answering my calls."

"Join the club," Evelyn said.

"I just wanted to check in on you too. Eric texted me that you and Chuck left."

"Nate, that's really nice of you, but you don't have to," Evelyn said. "I'm fine really."

A black town car rolled up to the curb. The window rolled down, revealing Nate with his phone pressed to his ear. Evelyn pocketed her phone and approached Nate, her arms crossed.

"Nate. I told you I'm fine."

"It doesn't help to tell yourself that," Nate said. "Trust me."

"What would you know about your father being arrested in the middle of your Christmas dinner?"

"My dad was arrested for embezzlement and fraud a few years ago."

"Oh…I'm sorry."

"Don't be. I turned him in."

Evelyn's eyes widened.

"It's a long story," Nate said. "But that's for another time. Get in. It's freezing."

Evelyn opened the door to his car and relished the feeling of heat thaw her frozen feet.

"How did you find out?" Evelyn said.

"Breaking news reports about twenty minutes ago," Nate said. "And Gossip Girl of course."

"She's as punctual as ever," Evelyn said.

"For a story this big? She would never miss it," Nate said. He typed a message on his phone and turned his attention to her. "How are you really doing?"

Evelyn rubbed her hands together. "I'm…spinning really. One minute we're having our Christmas dinner, the next police officers show up to take my dad away."

"Is he still at the station?"

Evelyn nodded. "He has to stay overnight."

"My dad said the first night is always the toughest."

"It'll be his only night, Nate," Evelyn said.

Nate was ready to rebuke this but decided against it. "You're right. It's just one night…for now."

Nate checked his phone and let out a scoff.

"What is it?"

"Chuck texted me. He's fine. He's in the city drinking his sorrows away."

"Where is he?"

"At a bar in midtown. I'll go check on him and make sure he gets home okay."

"We're supposed to go to Aunt Kim's tomorrow morning. Together."

Nate covered his warm hand over her cold one. "I'll make sure he's packed and ready."

The car rolled to a stop in front of her building. Nate gripped her hand, halting her from leaving the car.

"Listen, I know what you're going through right now. I've been there, and it's going to take some time to process. From my experience, it's best if you can get away from this for a little bit. The air is clearer in Connecticut, isn't it?"

"Sure, it is," Evelyn said, cracking a small smile.

"Getting away isn't the same as being alone," Nate said. "So, if you find yourself feeling alone, just give me a call."

"Thank you, Nate," Evelyn said. "I really appreciate that."

"Let me get the door for you. Your hands are freezing."

Evelyn stepped out of the car, her feeling starting to return to her feet in tingly bursts.

"Thanks again, Nate," Evelyn said. "Seriously."

Evelyn was enveloped by Nate's protective embrace. Evelyn at first was surprised by the affection, but she soon embraced him back.

"Text me when you get Chuck home," Evelyn said.

"I'll even send you a picture," Nate said.

Evelyn grinned. She knew he would.

Spotted: N and E in a tight embrace just hours after E and O become official. Is there already trouble in paradise? When O's away will this Bass play?

"Blair darling, we're about to land," Eleanor said shaking her awake.

Blair lifted her silk face mask and squinted as sunshine streamed through the cabin windows. She blinked a few times to adjust to the light. Then, she sat up in her fully reclined seat and yawned.

"You practically slept through the whole flight," Eleanor said.

Between studying for finals, campaigning for Locke and Key, and packing furiously last night for this surprise trip, all Blair had to do was roll back her seat, put on her face mask, and she was out like a light.

"That's never happened to me before," Blair said, stifling a yawn. "What did I get, six hours of sleep?"

"Not enough!" Cyrus said.

The clouds began to dissolve around the plane as they continued their descent. Soon, Blair saw the Champs-Élysées Avenue leading to the Arch de Triomph. The Seine river ebbed and flowed around the city. The sight caused Blair to smile dreamily. While New York was her home, Paris was her dream.

And to think she was so angry the night before that Eleanor sprung this trip as her surprise Christmas gift? She had to leave the Locke and Key Christmas party early, barely an hour after Chuck left.

The plan jolted as it touched down, the brakes flapped from the wings, as the engine powered down. As the plane taxied to the private arrivals' terminal, Blair turned her phone back on.

She knew everyone would still be asleep in New York, but it didn't hurt to check in on Gossip Girl. Manhattan was the city that never sleeps.

"Harold is here and waiting for us at the terminal," Eleanor announced.

"He better have coffee and croissants waiting for us," Cyrus said. "I'm starving!"

Blair texted Dorota that they arrived in Paris safely before logging on to Gossip Girl. She barely scrolled halfway down the page when a caption caught her attention.

Word has it that Big Bart Bass was seen walking out of his Park Avenue Penthouse with a new accessory he received for Christmas this year: handcuffs. A man who owned some of the tallest buildings in Manhattan, is now facing the prospect of being sent up the Hudson river.

"Oh my God," Blair gasped.

"What is it dear?" Eleanor said irritated from a lack of sleep and Blair's theatrics.

"Bart Bass was arrested last night."

"Wait, who?" Cyrus said.

"That's impossible," Eleanor said.

"It says it right here," Blair said, showing Eleanor the article. Attached to the article was a picture of Bart in handcuffs as he was about to duck into the back of the police cruiser.

"That's absolute nonsense," Eleanor said.

Cyrus inspected the photo. "What was he arrested for?"

"It says first degree arson."

Eleanor turned her gaze away from the phone, her face as stiff as stone.

Blair wanted to tell the pilot to turn the plane around and go back to New York. Any dreamy feeling she had for Paris dissolved. How could she be here when everything was imploding in New York? Where was Chuck? How was he doing? Was he okay?

Blair dialled his number, careless at what hour it was in New York. It rang and rang and went straight to voice mail. She tried two more times, and Chuck didn't pick up.

"Isn't that Chuck's father?" Cyrus asked.

Blair nodded; her gaze transfixed on the phone.

Cyrus reached over Eleanor and placed a reassuring hand on hers. "Chuck's going to be fine. I'm sure he is surrounded by his family right now."

"With all due respect Cyrus, you don't know Chuck like I do. This…this is a really big deal."

She could only imagine where he could have ended up. If she was lucky, he could have stayed in town to drink his sorrows away. If he were following tradition, he would have left Manhattan last night without telling anyone where he was going.

The plane halted at the gate. The flight attendant unbuckled his seatbelt and moved to open the door.

"I'm sure Chuck is aware of the gravity of the situation. Think of it this way. Chuck wouldn't want you to worry."

"How can I not worry? I'm in Paris when I should be there with him!"

"Didn't you two break up?" Eleanor said.

"Briefly," Blair said.

Cyrus unbuckled his seat belt. "Blair, there's nothing you can do."

Blair shook her head. "I'll fly back. Right now. I won't get off this plane until it turns around."

"Don't be ridiculous!" Eleanor said, glaring at her. "Your father is waiting in the airport for us. Don't make him wait any longer than he has to."

"But—"

"No buts," Eleanor said. "Pick up your things and let's go."

Blair clenched her phone in her hands. She was stuck. She couldn't fly back, and she couldn't stop worrying. Worst of all, she couldn't stop the guilt she felt. Had she not given Jack the blueprints, none of this would have happened.

Blair composed a message and sent it to Chuck.

I just heard what happened. Are you okay? Please call me.

"Blair," Eleanor said. "We don't have all day."

Blair stuffed her French Vogue in her carry-on tote and dragged her feet off the plane.

Bart massaged the indentations on his wrists in the limo the next day. The air felt fresher when he descended the steps of the police station that morning. Perhaps he noticed it more after his cold and sleepless night spent in his holding cell. He spent the night tossing and turning. The starched and itchy blanket twisted him into a tangled knot. The white painted brick walls made the cell feel dank in darkness while only a small square window indicated the time of day.

After instructing Arthur to return home, Lily asked with reservation, "How was it?"

"Long."

"It was a long night for me too," Lily said.

His thoughts circled back to them throughout the night. The brief spell of sleep was interrupted by a nightmare. He was running down Fifth Avenue dressed in his favourite suit while carrying his briefcase. He kept looking back to see who was chasing him, but all he saw were clusters of faceless people. He kept looking back after turning corner after corner through a maze of side streets. Finally, he ran into the person who was chasing him. They both crashed to the pavement, his briefcase cracked open. Green papers rained down on him, and when he looked up, he saw Misty looking down on him.

"How are the kids?" Bart asked.

"As good as can be expected," Lily said. "Nate left a message saying Chuck returned back to their apartment for the night while Evelyn and Eric are having breakfast at home."

"Good. That's good."

It was surprising really. He knew Chuck was prone to hoping the jet to a faraway place in times of crisis. Evelyn was equally emotionally distant. He didn't expect them to be anywhere close to home.

"This certainly throws a wrench into our holiday plans," Lily said. "But we'll manage." She covered her hand over his wrist.

"What do you suppose we do?"

"We carry on like normal. I imagine you'll have a call with Frank this morning, and then you'll have to be off for Connecticut with Evelyn and Chuck. Our flight for Miami leaves in a few hours." Lily checked her phone. "Serena should be arriving in Miami momentarily."

Pretending like the events of last night didn't happen was like sticking a band-air over a gushing wound. His arrest was gushing all over the headlines; hemorrhaging over gossip sites. There was nothing he could do to cauterize the wound there. If anything, a Band-Aid was the best solution for their holiday plans because Band-Aids placate and protect wounds. They don't heal them.

"I was thinking the same thing," Bart said. "The bigger of an issue we make this, the more worried the kids will get."

"Exactly. It's Christmas Eve, so it's not like the case will proceed for the next couple days anyway. We just need to keep calm and have your legal team start planning next steps."

Bart caught Arthur's curious gaze in rear-view mirror. Bart pressed the button above his head to close the partition between the driver's seat and the back seat.

Lily moved her hand to fit in between his. Bart held her soft, delicate hand, appreciating how reassuring it was to have Lily believe him.

"We're going to get through this," Lily said.

"And if we don't?" Bart said.

"We will."

"You're confident."

"Why wouldn't I be? This is all a big misunderstanding, and we are fortunate to have the resources to attend to this situation."

"That we do."

Bart doubted Lily had ever encountered a problem where she couldn't pay to get out of it. When it came to the justice system, money carried less value. Maybe this time, money wouldn't be enough.

"Chuck? Chuck? Come on dude, you have to wake up."

Chuck rolled onto his side, discovering that he had slept on a couch that left a sore throb in his lower back. As he moved, his body ached. He felt a kink in his neck pulse as he readjusted his position on his side while his head felt as heavy as a cinderblock.

Nate sat on the coffee table in their apartment, his body blocking the light that poked through the blinds behind him. His jaw was set, his expression watchful. The trash bin from their bathroom was at his feet, close enough for Chuck to roll his head forward and aim if needed. Judging from what Chuck could smell, it wasn't needed.

"Some of us are trying to sleep here, Nathaniel."

"You can sleep later. You have to get up now," Nate said while checking his phone.

"Why? Did daddy dearest get released from jail?"

"Yes, but you're supposed to be ready to leave for Connecticut in an hour."

Chuck wrinkled his nose. Their holiday jaunt to Connecticut was supposed to happen today. Chuck assumed it was off because of Bart's arrest.

"I'm not going," Chuck said.

"Chuck, come on, man. Don't be like that," Nate said. "Your family is waiting for you."

"Tell them I'm not feeling well."

"We both know that you have your secret cure to alleviate that," Nate said.

"I don't have all my ingredients on hand," Chuck said.

Nate sighed and got up. He then moved to the window and opened the blinds in a swift motion. Sunlight poured into the apartment, beaming on Chuck's limp form.

Chuck scrunched his eyes shut. "Jesus Nathaniel. What happened to your holiday cheer?"

"It went to hell like yours did last night. Now get up. Seriously. All you have to do is show up. Where else do you possibly need to be for Christmas?"

Chuck slowly found his way to a sitting position. "We're not the Swiss family Robinson type."

"It doesn't matter. Don't you see? You're not alone like I was when your father was arrested. I would have killed to have someone else with me. You have Evelyn, Eric, Serena, Lily, and your Aunt."

For so many years, it had felt that it was Chuck and Bart alone. There was no extended family that he knew of, no grandparents to take care of him while he grew up. He wasn't just pushing himself away from a duty to his family. He was pushing away from a duty that never existed before. It never occurred to Chuck that he had to be there because there was nowhere to be.

It was one thing for Chuck to long for family that he could love and depend on. It was another thing to realize he had it and had to navigate what it was he was supposed to do with it.

Chuck rubbed his eyes. "I need coffee. Lots of coffee."

The Montgomery household was as still as a painting when Ozzy woke up the next morning. Yesterday's long and trying night at the police station felt like a nightmare to Ozzy. It wasn't until he saw the luggage at the front door abandoned that it sunk it. Their trip was off, Philip was arrested, and an impending arraignment would decide if there was enough just cause to warrant a trial.

Ozzy brought his phone down from his desk and noticed that there were several missed calls from Evelyn. Did she hear the news? She must be worried.

He dialled Evelyn's number and it rang a couple times before going to voice mail. That was strange. It wasn't like her phone line was busy or anything. He tried again, and after one ring, it went to voicemail.

Dash appeared, dressed. He poured himself a bowl of cereal and sat across from Ozzy.

"Did you sleep?" Ozzy asked.

Dash shoveled a heaping spoon of cheerios into his mouth. "Like a log. You?"

"Same. Dead to the world."

Dash checked his phone and continued eating. For someone whose father was arrested the night before, he seemed untroubled by the situation.

"Holy shit," Dash said dropping his spoon.

"What?"

Dash made sure to swallow his food before he answered. "Bart Bass was also arrested last night."

"For what?" Ozzy said.

Dash's eyes scanned his phone screen in a back and forth motion. "First degree arson…resulting in the death of his wife."

Ozzy fell back against the booth. "Holy shit."

So, this was why Evelyn was calling him last night. She wasn't concerned about Philip's arrest; she probably had no idea that Philip was arrested last night. It was her father's arrest that she was worried about. He was in such a hurry to leave for the police station that he forgot his phone.

"Does it say anything else?"

"Not much, but there's a picture."

Dash presented the photo to Ozzy. Sure enough, it was a picture of Evelyn's father with his hands behind his back, handcuffed, walking toward the waiting police car.

The timing seemed somewhat suspect to Ozzy. He'd visited Bass Industries a year ago to learn what a day in the life looked like for Philip. He learned then that Philip and Bart had worked closely together for years.

"You don't think this is a coincidence, do you?" Ozzy said.

"What do you mean?"

"The fact that your father and Bart Bass were arrested on the same night."

Dash swirled his spoon in the remaining milk at the bottom of the bowl.

"I don't know what to think," Dash said.

Ozzy picked up his phone and tried calling Evelyn again. No answer. He tried calling the Bass house number and it rang and rang until it went to voice mail. He was too late. Evelyn had already left for Connecticut, and now she was avoiding him.

Ozzy's mom appeared dressed as if she were going to court. She wore a black pencil skirt with a matching blazer. Underneath, she wore a black turtleneck, making her auburn hair pop.

"Good. You're both awake," His mom said while peeling a banana away from its stem. "I'm going to the police station this morning to see to it that Philip gets released. I have a list of things I need you both to do now that we're staying home for the holidays."

"You might run into Lily Bass while you're there," Dash said.

"What do you mean?"

"Philip wasn't the only person in our neighbourhood to get arrested last night," Ozzy said.

"Bart Bass?" His mom said.

Dash presented the picture.

His mom shook her head. "That's awful."

"Yeah," Ozzy said. "Coincidental too."

"There have been greater coincidences," his mom said. She handed them a list of chores. "Divvy up the duties however you want, but I need you both to pitch in today. Philip and I should be back after lunch."

Dash snatched the list before Ozzy could look at it. "Dibs on not doing the bathrooms," Dash said.

There was one task that wasn't on the list that Ozzy knew he needed to do. He needed to make things right with Evelyn. Again.

The turkey was overcooked that night. As Aunt Kim carved its breasts at the head of the table, the marbled meat started flaking into smaller, frayed pieces. Everyone watched as the knife carved a jagged line through the meat in a silence that was more stifling than the air that was trapped in a balloon.

Until dinner was called, Chuck, Evelyn, and Bart had found refuge in different rooms of the house. Bart spent most of the afternoon in the kitchen either on his phone or speaking in hushed tones with Aunt Kim. Evelyn was stationed in her room, and Chuck lingered in the hallways, paying careful attention to the family photographs mounted on the walls. Regardless of how much or little room physically separated them, they repelled away from each other like magnets.

"The turkey is delicious, Kim," Uncle Travis said.

Aunt Kim grimaced as she chewed the meat. Chuck pushed the meat around on his plate while Evelyn drowned her turkey in gravy.

"It's very good," Bart said as he chewed. Evelyn learned that he always liked his meat well done, so a compliment from her father was hardly a vote of confidence on her cooking.

Aunt Kim took a long sip from her wine. Another tense silence enveloped the table.

"So, Evelyn," Aunt Kim said. "How did your final English project go?"

Evelyn finished swallowing. Despite drenching the turkey with gravy, it stuck to the back of her throat like paste. "It went well. We presented our visual essay on the last day of classes, and we got an A."

"That's wonderful," Uncle Travis said. "Well done, Evelyn."

Aunt Kim sawed her turkey with her knife, her lips pursed in concentration. Her brows knitted in irritation when Uncle Travis spoke.

"What's a visual essay?" Chuck asked wrinkling his nose.

"It's making an argument with pictures, video, and voice over instead of words."

"Sounds like an excellent short cut," Chuck smirked.

Evelyn rolled her eyes. "Believe it or not, it was actually harder than writing an essay."

"I'll take your word for it," Chuck said.

"How was your term Chuck?" Aunt Kim asked.

"Passable," Chuck said.

"It wasn't your best term?" Uncle Travis said.

"I have always performed consistently in academics," Chuck said. "I'm passable."

"There's more to college than perfect grades," Aunt Kim said. Uncle Travis still looked perplexed.

"Evelyn, would you pass the gravy please?" Bart said.

Evelyn tried her best to avoid her father the whole day, but it was difficult when he was sitting right across from her. Evelyn handed him the gravy, doing her best to keep her attention on his plate.

"How's work been, Bart?" Uncle Travis asked. "Is Christmas a busy time?"

Aunt Kim now glared at Uncle Travis. Chuck looked like he was ready to laugh at Uncle Travis' obvious misstep, and Evelyn wanted to bury her head in her hands.

Something deep in their family had shattered the night before, and now they were walking among sharp pieces of glass left behind. Some people like Aunt Kim watched where they were going carefully, her eyes trained on the floor for sharp pieces while Uncle Travis ran through it carelessly.

"Not really," Bart said. "Work's been good. Steady."

"Is it just as steady when you don't work for someone else?" Chuck asked.

Bart's gaze hardened. "What are you implying?"

"Being your own boss means you have to make your own decisions, right?"

"Yes."

"And some of those decisions may mean life or death, don't they?"

"Only in a strictly financial sense," Bart said. "Many factors are involved when making important decisions."

Aunt Kim's gaze flickered between Bart and Chuck as if she were watching a live tennis match.

"I'm sure there are," Chuck said.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Evelyn buttered her bread before tucking her knife under her plate.

"I'm not sure if it's an implication anymore," Chuck said.

If the comment wounded Bart, he made sure he didn't show it. He just blinked, his gaze as cold as ever. He didn't grip his knife and fork with an impulse of anger. He didn't have the pallid complexion of anguish. He had the most unsettling reaction of all: indifference.

"It's easy to rush to a judgement on something you know nothing about," Bart said.

"And it's just as easy to live a lie," Chuck said. He turned to Aunt Kim. "I hate to break up this festive celebration, but I've lost my appetite."

"Chuck," Evelyn said. "Stop it."

Chuck dropped his napkin on his chair. Aunt Kim also sprung to her feet, trying to get him to stay.

"I'm sorry to leave so abruptly, Aunt Kim," Chuck said. "I came, I tried, and I can't just sit here and pretend everything is normal when it's not. I need some time to myself."

Evelyn followed Chuck to the front hallway. "I can't believe you're leaving. Again."

"Believe it," Chuck said, as he found his coat in the front closet.

"Where exactly are you going to go?"

"I'm not sure yet," Chuck said.

"Look, I know you're mad at dad, but are you really just going to leave me alone with him?"

"You're not alone. You'll be with your Aunt and Uncle."

"They're yours too."

Chuck wrapped his scarf around his throat. "Semantics."

Meanwhile, Aunt Kim turned to Uncle Travis at the kitchen table and said, "This is all your fault."

They began arguing without realizing Bart was the only person left seated at the table. Aunt Kim shushed Uncle Travis and rushed to the door. Evelyn stood alone; the door closed.

"Where's Chuck?" Aunt Kim asked.

"He's gone," Evelyn said, storming past Aunt Kim.

Evelyn returned to the table where another Christmas meal lay abandoned like a crime scene. Evelyn gripped the ears of her chair and squeezed.

"Let him be," Bart said. "He has never been one to depend on."

Evelyn looked at her father directly for the first time since he returned from the police station. He seemed sincere and considerate. His words came from a place of practical knowledge, and Evelyn couldn't dispute his assessment of Chuck's character.

And yet, she couldn't be sure anymore if he could be believed or trusted. He could be putting on a face, manipulating this situation to produce a certain outcome, or he was just so good at lying that he himself believed his own lies to be true.

Evelyn now understood that their family was like a string of pearls. They were delicate yet firm and difficult to grip onto. All it took was for someone to snap the string for the pearls to roll away in different directions.

Bart watched the snow fall from the frosted window of his lawyer's office a week later. The snow fell in thick wet flakes, and the wind spun the falling snow into endless circles. New Yorkers clutched their hats and held up their scarves over their noses to brace themselves against the harsh and whistling wind. The heaps of shoveled brown snow spilled onto the streets making parking even more difficult than usual. Cars idled longer at intersections where the potent smell of engine fuel lingered like a toxic cloud.

Their meteorologists called for a snowstorm over New Year's Eve this year, and for once their prediction came true. But the biggest storm wasn't outside. It was inside his lawyer's stuffy office full of paper and ruddy faced lawyers combing through the details of his upcoming case.

Bart massaged his wrists at the mere memory of the cold handcuffs that bound his arms behind his back. He reflected on his cold and difficult stay at the police station, feeling the itchy blanket irritate his skin and the smell the dankness of the enclosed space. What was most difficult about that night was the silence. Unperturbed silence. This was when his thoughts ran wild, and he replayed the evenings events on loop.

"Bartholomew Bass, you're under arrest for first degree arson that resulted in the death of Misty Bass."

Although he heard the words, he couldn't comprehend them in that moment. He was more interested in the shocked faces around the table.

"Officers. This must be some kind of…misunderstanding," Lily said. She placed her hand on Bart's arm. "My husband is not a criminal. Perhaps you're mistaking him for someone else?"

"No ma'am. We have a warrant for the arrest of Bartholomew Bass."

"That's impossible," Evelyn said standing up in front of her father as a shield. "My dad would never commit a crime. Right dad?"

When she turned to seek confirmation from him, assurance that such an accusation wasn't true, he didn't say anything. He couldn't.

He couldn't even look at her.

"Chuck?" Evelyn turned to her brother for an explanation.

"Just let the officers do their job," Chuck said. "If it's a misunderstanding, then they'll let him go."

Chuck's jaw was clenched, his gaze distrustful. He knew. He knew this was no mistake. This was no accident. He looked at him in the same way Bart looked at his own father. Full of hatred and disappointment.

He found the strength to stand on his wobbly feet. This was it. He'd been running from this inevitable fate for years. Decades. He thought that if he ran fast enough and far enough, that this would disappear like the sun on the horizon.

The taller police officer stepped forward and snapped the handcuffs on his wrists, locking them tight. "You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be provided for you. Do you understand the rights I have just read to you? With these rights in mind, do you wish to speak to me?"

Evelyn peered over the officer's shoulder for reassurance. She wanted to hear him say that this was all just a dream. It was nothing to worry about. But he couldn't. Not this time.

"I would like to speak with my lawyer."

Any hope and innocence that remained in his daughter extinguished in that moment. He would never forget the way she looked at him in that moment. Perplexed. Horrified. Disappointed. All of those months they'd spent together would be for nothing. Now that she was about to learn the truth, he would lose her, Chuck, their family, forever.

"Bart?" Frank's voice brought him out of his vivid memory and into the present. "We were just talking about our strategy moving forward for the arraignment this afternoon."

"Go on."

"When the judge reads the charges filed against you, the defendant, that's you, will have to choose to plead guilty, not guilty, or no contest to those charges. Are we still in agreement on the plea?"

"Not guilty."

"Good. After that, the judge will review your bail and set dates for the proceeding. You'll have no problem paying the bail, so while we await the trial, you'll be able to stay at home and…get some things sorted out."

Bart understood what Frank was really saying. He was suggesting that Bart should prepare in the event that he will be serving time. He would have to prepare his assets, property, and family matters.

"Frank. Be honest with me. Do you think I have a shot at this?"

"It depends on the evidence presented, the jury selected, and the trial itself," Frank said. "You're still innocent until proven guilty, so don't you forget about that."

A grand jury's opinion regarding his guilt or innocence now meant little to him. His children had already arrived at their verdicts. There would be no amount of convincing to show them his innocence. Perhaps he should stop convincing himself too.

"I think you have it the wrong way around," Bart said. "With accusations like mine, I'm guilty until proven innocent."

Frank scratched at his beard. "Then we'll just have to prove your innocence then."

Evelyn curled up on her Aunt's plushy couch as the credits began to roll on the TV screen. She yawned and readjusted her fuzzy blanket over her shoulders. She couldn't remember the last time she watched a movie in the afternoon.

What once was promised to be Evelyn's favourite holiday of the year, became the most somber. Aunt Kim tried to restore the jubilance and traditions in their house, but no one was feeling very festive. Uncle Travis was unusually transient, Chuck had left to drink his sorrows God knows where, and her father was one step away from house arrest in Manhattan.

Evelyn wasn't sure what made her feel worse. Learning what her father allegedly did, or the unknown of what was to come.

Evelyn felt her phone buzz under the blanket. She picked it up and rolled her eyes at Ozzy's name displayed on the screen. She ignored the call.

"How was the movie?" Aunt Kim said as she breezed into the family room.

"Predictable."

"There's a comfort in predictability isn't there?"

Her Aunt Kim would know. She always watched the newest Hallmark channel holiday movies that featured the same plot, the same conflicts, and the same outcomes.

"Where's Uncle Travis?"

"He's…working."

"On New Year's Eve?"

"It's still a work week."

Evelyn supposed she had a point. It was strange though. There was something different about Uncle Travis. She knew he travelled quite a bit for work, but he was even more absent than usual. His interactions with Aunt Kim on Christmas day felt cold, forced. She hadn't seen him since.

Aunt Kim's eyes were glassy.

"Aunt Kim." Evelyn sat up. "Are you okay?"

"Yes, yes. It's nothing for you to worry about."

"You saying that makes me worry more."

"There's nothing to worry about! I'm more worried about you. We haven't had the chance to talk about what happened with the holidays and all. How are you feeling?"

"I'm…okay. I'm just…lost. Confused. I have so many questions."

"For your father?"

Evelyn nodded. "I've been living with him for almost two years, and I never thought he could be capable of this. I mean, if he did this, what else could he have done? I-I don't know what to think."

"If it makes you feel any better, you aren't the only one."

"It feels like it."

"Have you spoken with your father since…"

"No. I just…don't know what to say right now. I don't even know what to think. Has Chuck?"

"I don't know, but I have my doubts."

"What's going to happen, Aunt Kim?"

"Well. It seems like there's going to be a trial. I'm not sure if your father can pay bail or if he will face prison time. It'll be left up to the jury to decide."

Evelyn's hands were as cold as ice. "I just don't understand. How did this happen? This supposedly happened so many years ago. How did it come up now?"

Her Aunt's eyes found the hardwood floor. "I don't know."

"Do you think my dad…did it?"

"I don't know."

Evelyn rubbed her hands over her face. That question kept her awake at night. Did her father commit arson? Did he commit other crimes? Why would he do it? How could he lie, and omit such a crime for so many years without remorse?

Evelyn tossed the blanket off her body. She started rubbing her hands together to warm them up. She turned to the hallway where she put on her winter coat and laced up her boots.

"Where are you going?"

"For a walk."

"Come back before it gets dark," Aunt Kim said.

It was the same phrase she used to tell her when she was small. She'd tell her that when she'd be out all afternoon playing with her neighbour, Katie. They'd play the likes of hopscotch, basketball, and Harry Potter. They'd take adventures on the neighbourhood nature paths, bike around the neighbourhood, dare each other to take difficult bike jumps made out of lumps of dirt.

Simpler times.

Evelyn opened the door, and a strong gust of wind and snowflakes burned her cheeks. This was her reality now.

Dozens of journalists and paparazzi swarmed the steep steps of the New York Criminal Court House that snowy afternoon. Bart marched up the steps while his legal team acted as his army flank who shielded him from the flashing cameras, leading questions, and imposing bodies that tried to elbow their way toward him.

The New York Criminal Court was an imposing building with Grecian columns and three rooftop statues balancing the scales of justice. Bart barely noticed any of this as he kept his head down, his gaze focused on each step. He would normally marvel with the impressive building, but the flashing lights were too distracting.

The courtroom was modest in size. The walls were covered with cherry wood panelling with the judge's seat centered at the front of the room. Two flags stood on both sides behind the judge's chair.

Bart mimicked Frank's bow before opening the door to pass the bar. He took his seat behind the bench on the left side. Frank opened his briefcase while Bart noticed the prosecutor was already seated behind the bench on the right side of the room. She wore black rimmed reading glasses, her black hair streaked with silver. Her lips were puffy, like many of Lily's friends were, and nose was long and defined. From a side profile, she looked almost bird-like to Bart.

She nodded in their direction. "Frank."

"Eloise," Frank said and nodded back.

"All rise. Court is now in order."

Bart stood and unbuttoned his suit jacket. The bailiff opened the door where a balding man with stark Vulcan eyebrows appeared with a thick file folder under his arm. He sat down on his leather desk chair and opened his file.

"Please be seated," the judge said. He then cleared his throat. "Alright. Mr. Clerk, you can go ahead."

The clerk stood in front of the judge and read from his document. "188756 DR 0598 New York City County vs. Bartholomew Bass. This is an arraignment your honour."

"Thank you," The judge said. "Proceed."

The bailiff guided Bart to the center of the bar. Frank stood beside him.

The clerk continued, "Mr. Bass, this complaint charges that on May 24 1993 in New York City first degree arson was committed that resulted in the death of Misty Bass."

"Thank you, Mr. Clerk." The judge turned his attention to Bart. "Sir, if you get charged with another offence while this trial of open, you will be held for ninety days without bail. Madame DA, are there any requests beyond the bail warning?"

"We request that the defendant does not leave the state or country, as in line with probationary rules."

"Okay. Mr. Bass, you'll meet with a probation officer after the arraignment and sign those conditions. You'll be required to not commit any more crimes or misdemeanors or leave the state or country. Are there any other requests Madame DA?"

"No, your honour."

"Okay then. Bartholomew Bass, how do you plead to this charge? Guilty, not guilty, or no contest?"

"Not guilty."

"You may be seated."

Bart sat down as Frank finalized the details of the trail dates and locations. Once the dates were finalized, as well as reiterating Bart's rights and the overarching proceedings of the trial, the clerk marked the conclusion.

"This case is set to continue on January fourteenth for a pre-trial hearing at eleven in the morning. The defendant should report to the probation officer in the building in order to sign the conditions before leaving this afternoon. Thank you."

"Court dismissed," the bailiff said. They waited for the judge to leave. Then, the bailiff turned and guided Bart through the bar entrance, and all Bart could see was a sea of unfamiliar faces. The room was packed. There were so many people watching that spectators spilled out into the hallway.

Despite such a stiflingly full room, Bart had never felt more alone.

Ozzy heard the dull drone of the dial tone ring in his ear that afternoon. He walked down the stairs, past the unpacked luggage, his cellphone pressed to his ear.

"At the tone, please record your message."

"Hey Evelyn, its Ozzy. Just calling to see how you're doing…again. Are you going to be back in the city tonight for New Year's Eve? I don't think much is happening here, so if you have any ideas, I'm all ears."

As Ozzy wandered into the kitchen, his mom and Philip's stern whispering ended. They sat at the kitchen booth which was covered with scattered legal documents.

"Hey honey," his mom said. "Remind me, do you and Dash have plans tonight for New Years?"

"Not yet, but with Dash that could change," Ozzy said.

"Just let me know if it does."

Ever since Philip was served for corporate espionage a week ago, his mom had become increasingly forgetful. She'd forget her cellphone at home when she was running errands. She forgot her credit card at the payment terminal when Ozzy went grocery shopping with her. She even forgot to take a boiling pot off the stove yesterday. Ozzy doubted that she'd remember anything that he'd tell her.

"Should we order in then?" Ozzy asked. "Unless you have plans tonight?"

"Oh? Oh, yes. That's a good idea. Would you like pizza, Philip?"

Philip looked up from his papers. "Sure."

"Can you order a pizza or two, honey?"

"Sure," Ozzy said.

They were supposed to be on a beach in St. Bart's right now. He would be swimming, Dash drinking while working on his burn. His mother would be sitting under the beach umbrella to keep her skin from aging pre-maturely.

Not to mention that his father was moving to New York City. His mom was scant on the details, but he knew his father was coming sometime in the New Year. He didn't know when, how, where, anything. He hesitated to ask his mom about it at all. She could barely remember her own name at the moment.

Ozzy checked his phone again. No new messages. He hadn't heard from Evelyn since the night of the arrests. He got the message. She was angry. Whether she was angry at him or the world he couldn't be sure, but he needed to do something. If he didn't, she'd slip away like last time.

It didn't help that his mom was outsourcing things for him to do every day. Every time Ozzy started thinking of getting away for a bit, there was something else she needed him to do.

Ozzy dialled the number for Nick's Pizza, hearing the call go through after two rings. It startled him. He had been sent to voicemail so many times that week, that he was surprised that he actually got through.

In his room, his suitcase sat at the foot of his bed, unopened. He had let it sit there for days, a testament that it wasn't a task his mom nagged him to do. Perhaps it was time to start unpacking.

Chuck hunched over the bar of Angel's Share as he swirled his glass of scotch. He drained his glass and sighed. He looked up at the tv screen where they were playing a news report.

"Bart Bass, former founder and CEO of Bass Industries, faces trial for a count of first-degree arson. Bass attended his arraignment hearing and pleaded not guilty to his charges. The trial is expected to begin sometime in the New Year…"

Chuck knocked the neck of the scotch bottle with the glass. Scotch gushed out of the bottle, some of it splashing on the counter.

Chuck would be lying if he didn't suspect that his father did something nefarious to have been so successful all these years. He grew up poor, and successfully achieved the American dream. His success story, although inspiring, was far too unbelievable to be possible. How did he make his first million by twenty-five?

Arson.

That was the answer. That was the way to level the playing field, to overcome his lack of resources and collateral that the elites Chuck grew up with were all born with.

He had spent over a year trying to find the truth when the truth was in the wrong person's possession. And now, his whole future and their family name was about to be destroyed. Which friends would desert him now that their family was blacklisted? What career path would he take? Who would even hire him now?

Chuck took another drink. It was easier this way. There was nothing he could do. There never was. All that was left was the empty bottle.

"Is this where the sons of convicted billionaires come to languish?"

Chuck gripped the bar. He knew that voice. He had been avoiding that voice for the past few days.

He swayed as he turned to see Blair taking a seat beside him.

"Blair. What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be in France with your fathers?"

She placed her purse on the bar. "I was, but I came back early. You would know this if had bothered to check your messages. Since you didn't, I decided to come find you. You weren't as easy to find this time."

"Did you consider whether or not I wanted to be found?"

"No because no one, not even Chuck Bass, doesn't want to be found." Blair rested her hand on his forearm. "I heard what's been happening. I'm sorry."

"For what? Dear old dad being exposed as an arsonist?"

"No. I'm sorry that you have to go through it. This isn't your fault."

"Yes, it is. I should have stopped Jack when I had the chance instead of leaping into his thorny embrace."

"Chuck. Stop it. Your uncle manipulated you. He manipulated me. He's the one behind this arrest, isn't he?"

Chuck shrugged. "Probably."

"Well, if he's behind it, it may mean that it's not true. He could just be framing your father."

Chuck chuckled darkly. "My father? Don't be so quick to think he's innocent, Blair."

"You think he did it?"

Chuck looked into her doe eyes. "I've asked him for the truth several times, and he has yet to give me a straight answer."

"Let's not jump to conclusions. We don't know. How about instead, we go back to my place? Sober you up a bit?"

Chuck hugged the bottle to his chest. "I'm not done yet."

Blair pried the bottle from his embrace. "We'll take it with us. You did pay for it after all."

Chuck slumped against the bar. His nails dug into the bar.

"Come on, Chuck." Blair wrapped her arms around his broad shoulders, her breath hot against his ear. "Please."

Chuck was silent for a couple minutes.

"Fine."

Chuck swayed as he stood. He wrapped his arm around Blair's shoulders, leaning against her to stand upright. Blair led them to the front doors, with Chuck stumbling into two stools along the way.

Once in her waiting car, Chuck slumped against Blair. He turned his head and buried his face into her hair while his arm was still wrapped around her. He breathed in her comforting signature scent. A mix of vanilla and Chanel No. 5.

"Blair?" Chuck whispered in her hair. "Thank you."

Evelyn wandered down the street and found herself knocking on her neighbour's front door. She hadn't called ahead to see if anyone was home. She hadn't considered if her neighbour wanted to see her since it had been so long since they last spoke. Now, she waited and listened to the thudding of footsteps rush to the door.

"Evelyn?" Katie said, out of breath. "This-this is such a surprise!"

"I'm sorry I didn't call ahead. I'm in town, so I thought I'd come over to see if you were here."

"Of course. Come on in," Katie said. She opened the door as wide as it would allow.

"Are you sure I'm not disrupting anything?"

"Not at all. My parents are out grocery shopping, but they should be back soon. How have you been?"

The first word that came to Evelyn's mind was tornado. She felt as if she'd been swept up into a tornado, and she was tumbling around in the wind tunnel ever since.

"I've been better."

Katie's honey brown eyebrows knitted together. "Hot chocolate?"

"Please."

Evelyn followed Katie to the kitchen at the back of the house. Evelyn had spent many hours in Katie's house. Sleepovers, birthday parties, and rainy summer days were all triggered from the spicy smell of cinnamon that always wafted through the house.

"Wow. You guys renovated the kitchen?" Evelyn said.

"Finally. After years of my mom wearing down my dad, he finally caved. She finally has her dream kitchen complete with her farmhouse sink and butler's pantry."

The kitchen reminded Evelyn of a country house with its sage coloured cabinets, exposed wooden beams, gleaning marble counters, and the wooden centre island that looked like a butcher's block.

"It looks amazing," Evelyn said.

"Enduring the renovations wasn't so amazing. We barbecued so much that I'm completely sick of it. Seeing another burger again would be too soon."

Evelyn took a seat at the centre island as Katie prepared Evelyn's hot chocolate.

"What else is new with you?" Evelyn asked.

"Not too much," Katie said. "I applied to colleges, and I'm waiting to hear back once school starts again. There's the usual drama at Southington, but you're not missing much there. People are all up in arms that Maisy Wallis—you remember her? She was supposed to host a New Year's Eve party tonight, but she backed out at the last minute. Now, everyone is scrambling to find out what to do. What about you? It's been ages since we last talked. I'm sure your life is far more interesting than mine."

"That can't be true," Evelyn said. "You were the one who came up with the idea of taping the door shut to prevent Ms. Devens from teaching math in fifth grade."

Katie chuckled. "I thought she was going to kill us after that one."

"And yet, you never had to take the blame for it."

"Yeah, that's not one of my prouder moments."

"It was still interesting!" Evelyn said.

Katie served Evelyn her hot chocolate and poured a cup of hot water into hers. She popped in a peppermint tea bag in her cup and took a seat beside Evelyn.

"But for real though. What's happening?"

Evelyn watched the bubbles pop from the foam of her hot chocolate. "This is between us, okay?"

"Of course. Do you want to do our secret handshake to confirm it?"

Evelyn grinned. "I don't think that's necessary."

"Good because I don't think I remember all of it."

"Me neither," Evelyn said. She took a sip of her hot chocolate. It burned the roof of her mouth.

"Just before Christmas, my dad was arrested."

Katie's eyes widened.

"It's all over the news, so it's not exactly secret. It's just been a big shock."

"Of course, it's a shock," Katie said.

"I don't know. It's just ever since then, I've just been spinning."

"What does Dash think about this?"

Dash? What would Dash have anything to do with this?

"Dash and I broke up."

"Wait, really? But I thought things were going so well."

"They seemed to be. Until he cheated on me."

"That…bastard."

"That was a couple months ago. Trust me, I was angry for a long time. I did some terrible things too, but that's behind me now."

"I'm so sorry, Evelyn."

"What for?"

"For what you're going through. You didn't ask for any of this."

Evelyn shrugged. "It still happened."

Katie shook her head. "So, what's going to happen with your dad? There's going to be a trial?"

Evelyn sipped her now cooled drink. "Yes. I don't know the details, but there will be a trial. He could potentially be facing jail time."

"Wow. I wish I had something I could say right now…"

"There's nothing to say. What can you do, Katie? Promise that it's going to be okay? Promise me that this isn't going to hurt? Promise me that my family will recover from this? You can't promise any of that."

"Is there anything I can do?"

Evelyn shook her head. "Just being here is helpful. With all of the happy memories we had growing up here. That's what I need."

"Well…if I remember correctly, my mom's top-secret chocolate chip cookies always made you feel better."

Evelyn grinned. "That they did."

"Well, would it cheer you up if you finally had the chance to learn our sacred family recipe?"

Evelyn felt the burden of worry lift from her shoulders. She was so caught up in her own thoughts, worries, and unsettling family mysteries that the most liberating thing for her was to escape it all, however momentarily it may be. She needed something to alleviate all of that.

Evelyn now understood why she found her way over here. She was searching for comfort and escape and there was no better burrow than the cinnamon-scented memories from her childhood.

"That's exactly what I need."

Ozzy carried a pizza box into Dash's room. Their parents were still in a deep discussion in the kitchen, so Ozzy took one of the pizzas up to Dash's room.

Dash sat in front of his TV screen while he played Call of Duty on his Xbox. He clicked the buttons on his controller furiously.

"Dinner is served," Ozzy said. He opened the pizza box, and a warm steam of cheese and sauce wafted in his room.

"What did I do to get delivery today?"

"Our parents are still working downstairs. They've taken over the kitchen."

"Still working on the case?"

"Yeah."

Dash dropped his controller beside the pizza box. Ozzy had noticed that Dash had seemed like he was above the case since it came into their lives. To Dash, it wasn't some extraordinary event, but a mild speedbump.

Dash took a slice and began picking off the mushrooms.

"You think your dad can make a good case?"

Dash shrugged. "I don't know much about it."

Ozzy chewed on his crust. Given everything he knew about Dash, he expected him to be alarmed, or in the very least, mildly worried.

"So, this doesn't worry you at all?"

"Of course, it worries me," Dash said. "I just don't want to think about it. Overthink about it. That never helped me in the past."

Ozzy understood. If Dash didn't legitimize the thought by not thinking about it, then the idea of his father's impending trial with its variable outcomes that included possible jail time didn't exist. If it didn't exist, then it wasn't something he needed to worry about.

Ozzy took a second slice. They ate in silence for a couple minutes.

"So, how's Evelyn taking it?" Dash asked. "With her father's conviction…I have to say, that one doesn't look too promising."

"I think she's okay. I haven't really heard from her, but I know she's with her Aunt laying low."

"That's probably the best place she could be right now," Dash said.

Despite the uncertainty that surrounded them, Ozzy was trying to adjust to the new normal that was his relationship with Dash. For the first time in at least a year, they had a civil, non-combative conversation about Evelyn. The territory remained sensitive, and Ozzy didn't want to overshare.

"Did you hear if there was anything going on for New Year's tonight?" Ozzy asked.

"Yeah. There were a couple parties, but I'm not feeling it."

Dash not in the mood for a party? That's when Ozzy realized that Dash was not okay.

"Yeah me neither. It doesn't feel like a great time to celebrate," Ozzy said.

Dash finished his second slice and picked up his controller. He resumed his game.

"Is this your plan then? To play COD all night?"

Dash shrugged. "Why not?"

Although Ozzy wasn't fond of New Year's Eve, he knew it was the perfect excuse to get Dash out of his funk.

"Do you want to play?" Dash asked.

Ozzy searched for the TV remote and turned off the monitor.

"Hey! What the hell was that for?"

"Enough COD. We're going out."

"You do what you want. Count me out."

"Yeah, I can," Ozzy said. He jogged to the door and yelled, "Hey Mom? Dash and I are going out!"

Dash sunk into his desk chair. "Really? You really had to go there with involving a parent tactic?"

"Well, it worked so well for you in the past. Now get up or I'll make you."

"Did anyone ever tell you that you're very unpleasant?"

"No, but coming from you, I'll take it as a compliment."

Dash sighed. "Where are we even going?"

"We're going on a road trip."

Blair poured a glass of water from the filtered water faucet and placed it in front of Chuck. She knew better then to force Chuck to do anything, so she resorted to other methods of influence. She would place the water in front of him without comment or imposing will, and let Chuck choose to pick it up or not.

Chuck drank half of the glass.

While Blair was grateful for her surprise visit with her father, being away from home after learning about Bart's arrest was hard. The first thing she did each morning was check her phone to see if Chuck had responded to any of her messages. With each passing day, the more worried she became. She even called Nate to see if he had any knowledge of Chuck's whereabouts, to which, his information was outdated.

Finally, her father asked her what was on her mind and suggested that she fly back to New York early. She booked the first flight out.

Blair rummaged through the cupboards that Dorota recently reorganized. Maybe she could find something dry for Chuck to eat. Crackers? Dried toast? Nuts even?

Blair found a tin of mixed nuts and poured them into a bowl.

"Blair, this isn't necessary."

"Chuck, I can practically see your liquor light flashing. When was the last time you ate?"

He didn't answer. Instead, he took a handful of nuts.

Blair took a seat on the stool beside him. She also popped an almond in her mouth. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"What else is there to say? My father built Bass Industries on a lie. Now, he not only lost Bass Industries, but my future too."

"You haven't lost your future, Chuck. The future isn't even here yet."

"Yes, I have. I told him that I wanted to run Bass Industries one day. Now, I can't."

"But surely there will be other opportunities? I mean, by the time we're done school, this whole thing will blow over."

"We both know from Nate's experience with the Captain that that isn't how it works."

"That's fair. I just think you shouldn't give up yet," Blair said.

"You know what I don't understand, Blair? I was onto this. I was on the right track. I was getting information from the right people, and I stopped. I got distracted. I could have stopped this."

"How could you have stopped this?"

"I shouldn't have helped Jack last year. I should have pressured him to leave. I should have resorted to more serious measures to force Jack out."

"And how were you going to do that?"

"I would have found a way," Chuck said. "You're not doubting my thirst for manipulation and destruction, are you?"

"Of course not," Blair said. "I just think you shouldn't be blaming yourself so much. This isn't your problem. It's your father's. And yes, it's unfair that it's affected you this way, but there was nothing that you could have done to prevent it. This was much bigger than you."

Chuck drank more water. Silence meant that she had a point he couldn't dispute.

"I didn't think I'd find you before the New Year," Blair said. "You were one Bass in a very large Manhattan haystack."

Chuck smirked. "Did I ruin your New Year's Eve plans?"

"Not really. I was thinking of going to Kati's. She's hosting a New Year's Eve party, but I'm not exactly rushing to get there."

Although Blair was invited to Kati's, she told her that she would still be in France for the holidays. She was banking on finding Chuck by the end of the night at the latest, but now that she did, her thoughts wandered back to where they left off before they parted for the break.

"Not in the mood for a high school reunion?" Chuck said.

"It's a little soon for that don't you think?"

Chuck nodded. "I can think of plenty of other ways to ring in the New Year..."

"So can I," Blair said, feeling her body heat up. "I'm thinking an evening with Audrey and Carey."

Chuck's eyes furrowed.

"Surely you remember one of my favourite movies? Charade?"

"Oh. Yeah. That movie," Chuck grumbled.

Blair held back a smile. Why did he always make it so easy to torture him?

"Come on now. I did find you after searching almost every bar in Manhattan. Surely you can show a little appreciation for it?"

"I can think of better ways to show my appreciation," Chuck said huskily while running his hand up her thigh.

Blair's breath hitched. It had been so long since they've been together. Surely it was too soon to get back together… especially given his current state…but still...his touch was electric…her body ached for him after such a long absence. His hand dipped between her things, inching closer to her core.

"What do you say?" Chuck whispered in her ear.

"I think…"

"Don't think. Don't even think for a minute. What do you want, Blair?"

He started kissing her neck, leaving a trail to her collarbone. Blair's eyes rolled back.

"Chuck…" Blair gasped, his finger now circling her centre. "Are you sure?"

"Just for tonight. We'll figure it out tomorrow."

"Chuck," Blair said. She grabbed him by his hair, so he was forced to look at her. "Take me to bed. Now."

Bart welcomed the quiet serenity of the elevator as he ascended to the penthouse. He felt the pressure in his ears build and as he soared to the highest floor.

The penthouse was equally tranquil. For the first time he could remember, he was residing in the penthouse alone.

Bart poured himself a glass of scotch and drank greedily. He sighed and refilled his glass.

Normally, he would pick up the paper at this time of the evening to catch up on the daily news, but he couldn't bring himself to read tonight. He knew his impending trial would be on the covers of every New York newspaper and gossip column. Frank advised him to avoid news reports at this time.

Bart felt his phone buzz in his pocket. He checked the call display fully expecting to see Frank's name. His closest relationship over the past week had been with his lawyer. Instead, it was Lily's name that was on the call display.

"Bart. I've been trying to reach you all day. How did the arraignment go?"

"It went as well as we could hope," Bart said. "The pre-trial is set for January fourteenth."

"Really? That's so soon."

"It's what worked best for the judge, the prosecution, and us," Bart said. "How's Miami?"

"It's good. It's been quite the Rhodes reunion. We've been thinking about you."

He doubted their thoughts were sympathetic. He hadn't spoken much with Chuck or Evelyn, and when he did, the conversation was tepid at best. He doubted Eric or Serena thought much of his situation other than how it was a bother to them.

"Any plans for New Year's tonight?"

"We'll be going to the country club for drinks and to watch the fireworks. Mother insisted."

Bart had only met CeCe a handful of times, but it was enough to know how persuasive she could be.

Lily sighed. "I don't feel comfortable knowing you're all alone on New Year's Eve. Can't you fly down with the Bass jet?"

"I had to sign probationary terms that state I can't leave the state."

"That's awful."

"It could be worse," Bart said. "I could be on house arrest or in a holding cell."

"Is there anything else I can do?"

"Enjoy the fireworks," Bart said. "I insist. There's nothing that can be done here. If anything, I'll probably go to bed early. It's been a long day."

"Alright. But we'll be back by tomorrow evening."

"I'll make sure the place is cleaned up by then," Bart said.

Lily chuckled. "You clean? I'll believe it when I see it. Listen, I have to go now. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Happy New Year, Lily."

"Happy New Year, Bart."

Bart hung up and stared at the crackling fireplace. The only person whose support he could count on was Lily. She had stood by him during the rest and seemed set to stand by him during the trial. Yet, Bart had a lingering insecurity that she could leave him over this. She had left several husbands behind before for much less profiled reasons. Who's to say she wouldn't leave him if he was convicted?

Bart drained his glass. He rubbed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. It was possible. Anything was.

Blair gasped as Chuck collapsed on top of her. They had barely made it to her bedroom, let alone bed, while ripping each other's clothes off. Once she gave in, she was a woman untamed, tearing off Chuck's shirt, clawing at his skin, urging him to go harder than he ever had before. She felt insatiable for his touch, his taste, the feel of him inside her, all of it.

Chuck rolled off of her. Their chests heaved as they both lied on their backs, catching their breathes. Blair felt reignited, alive, and more satisfied then she had felt in a long time.

Blair rolled on her side to see Chuck's profile, his pale and hairy chest, a smirk on his face. He pulled her into his embrace, her head on his shoulder. She missed this. She had no idea how much she missed this until today.

Blair sighed impatiently.

"Chuck. Do. That. Again."

"What's the rush? I'm going to appreciate you all night."

"Until tomorrow. I know. And then what? We pretend it didn't happen?"

"I didn't say that. You were the one who didn't want to get back together."

Blair saw the opportunity to oppose this. To challenge the validity of the statement. But that would mean they would get into a fight and he would leave. They had already played out that scenario far too many times before.

Instead, Blair tried a different approach.

"Do you want to get back together?" Blair asked him.

"You know the answer to that."

"I need to hear you say it."

Chuck rolled over to face her. "Blair. I want to be with you. I'm always going to want to be with you. That's never going to change. It's you who needed space."

"You're right. I did say that. I meant it then, but things are different now."

"Tell me about it."

"I'm serious. I'm serious about us now."

"Blair. My life is about to become a media circus with my dad's trial in the new year. You do realize that will be a part of the deal now? My family's reputation is trashed. I'm about to become one of the biggest pariahs in Manhattan. I don't want you to have to go through that."

"Chuck," Blair caressed his cheek. "I know things are going to be difficult, but I'll stand by you through anything. I will stand by you through this trial the way you stood by me through the election. I will stand by you because I love you."

"I love you too," Chuck said. He leaned forward and kissed her deeply. He rolled his body back on top of hers.

No matter what happened tomorrow, or the day after, or the week after, they still had tonight.

Evelyn returned to Aunt Kim's with a Ziploc bag full of chocolate chip cookies. She unzipped her coat and kicked off her boots. Her cheeks stung from the bitter wind.

"Hello?" Aunt Kim called from the kitchen.

"It's me, Aunt Kim."

"It's been hours! I was starting to worry."

"I'm sorry to have worried you. I was just at Katie's, and I lost track of time. She finally gave me her family's secret recipe."

Evelyn opened the Ziploc bag and offered her a cookie.

"Please remember to send me a text next time."

Evelyn followed her aunt to the kitchen where a pot of pasta was boiling on the stove.

"Did you eat a dinner of cookies?"

"Maybe," Evelyn said. "But I have room for an actual dinner."

Her Aunt Kim smirked. "I thought so. Sit."

Evelyn sat at the round kitchen table. Aunt Kim served her a plate of creamy pasta with shrimp.

"How's Katie?"

"She's good. Her parents renovated their kitchen."

"Mary finally convinced Marty?"

"Yup. It looks really good. I think you'd like it." Evelyn twirled her fettuccini pasta with her fork and spoon. "Other than that, she's good. Oh, and before I forget," Evelyn reached into the back pocket of her jeans and pulled out the recipe card. She slid it across the table.

Her aunt picked up the recipe card and turned it over without reading it. Her aunt leaned her elbows on the table, her chin in her hand.

"This is really delicious," Evelyn said.

"It's the nutmeg. That's what makes the difference."

Evelyn ate two more mouthfuls as Aunt Kim remained quiet, almost pensive.

"Is something on your mind?" Evelyn asked.

"A few things actually," Aunt Kim said.

"What is it?"

"I'm not sure it's a good time."

"Aunt Kim, didn't you say there's never a good time to tell the truth, so you might as well come clean?"

Aunt Kim sighed. "I did say that."

"Then tell me. It can't be worse than watching dad get arrested."

Aunt Kim looked at her with apprehension. She took a deep breath and said, "Uncle Travis and I are getting a divorce."

Evelyn dropped her fork. "Wait. What?"

Aunt Kim's eyes were glassy. "We've been separated for some time now. I didn't want to say anything to you because I thought…I thought it would be temporary."

Aunt Kim's set down her fork and spoon.

"I know you've been through a lot lately, and I certainly didn't want to pile on. But more importantly, I didn't want to hide this from you for as long as I did. There was just always something else that took more priority."

Evelyn got up from her chair and rounded the table to meet Aunt Kim. She had never seen her aunt so upset. Evelyn did the only thing she could think of. She wrapped her arms around her. She could feel her aunt's clothes were damp with sweat, and she started to let out a strangled cry.

"I tried, Evelyn. I really did."

"I know you did," Evelyn said.

The only person who rivalled her aunt's determination was Blair Waldorf. If she said she tried, then that meant she tried everything she could.

"I just have one question," Evelyn said. "Why?"

"Your uncle and I now have very different ways we want to live our lives."

"What do you mean?"

"He really wanted something I couldn't give him," Aunt Kim said. A new wave of tears streamed down her face.

Evelyn wanted to push further, but her aunt was too despondent for that. She stroked her hair the way her aunt used to just before tucking her into bed.

"So that's why Uncle Travis hasn't been around," Evelyn said.

"Yes."

Uncle Travis hadn't been the most involved father figure in her life. She always thought he meant well, but he was always busy with work. He didn't make half the effort Aunt Kim made. He was physically present in her life, but if she were honest with herself, she doubted he knew what her favourite toy was growing up.

"I'm sorry," Evelyn offered.

Despite being lurched into another revelation, Evelyn wasn't as rudderless. She couldn't be with Aunt Kim crying beside her. Whatever her feelings were on the matter were pushed aside, and she felt nothing but compassion for her aunt. She may have taken her for granted in the past, but in this moment, she saw her as something other than her invincible maternal figure. She was a flawed and hurt human being who needed her.

Evelyn offered her aunt a tissue. Her aunt blew into it and her breathes began to even out.

"Well, this has been an unforgettable holiday," Evelyn said.

Aunt Kim let out a small laugh. "You can say that again." She sat back in her chair and took a deep breath. "I think I'm ready to try one of your cookies now."

Evelyn brought over the bag and put it in the middle of the table. Evelyn finished her dinner while Aunt Kim ate two cookies. Then, Evelyn's phone buzzed.

"Who could it be?"

"It's Katie," Evelyn said. "Hello?"

"Hey Evelyn! It was so great catching up this afternoon."

"It totally was. My aunt says thanks for the cookie recipe. She is devouring two cookies as we speak."

"I'm glad she's enjoying them. I just wanted to let you know that the party Maisy Wallis was supposed to host has now been moved to Jared Whitman's place. Do you remember him?"

Evelyn paused. She was on good terms with Jared before she left. She didn't know him that well, but he was one of two people who happened to always be in her class every year in grade school.

"Yes, I remember him."

"He's a really nice guy, and when he called me to let me know the party was on, I told him you were in town, and he said you were welcome to come too."

"That's really sweet, Katie, but I was just going to stay in tonight."

"I know you said that, but is there any way you'd reconsider? Since you moved away, we barely see each other, and maybe this would be a good opportunity to blow off some steam."

Aunt Kim watched Evelyn intently.

"Katie, hold on a sec." Evelyn held her phone against her shoulder. "Katie said Jared Whitman's hosting a New Year's Eve party, and she invited me."

"You should go. Get some fresh air. See some familiar faces," Aunt Kim said.

The last thing Evelyn wanted to do was to see her old classmates. Who knew if they knew what was happening to her father? Besides, as she looked across the table, there was no way she felt comfortable leaving her aunt to spend New Year's alone.

"I don't want to leave you by yourself on New Year's," Evelyn said.

"I won't be alone. Judy Townsend down the street had invited me to her New Year's Eve Party. I was considering going, but I wanted to make sure you weren't alone first."

"Oh," Evelyn said. "That changes things."

"Do you want to go?"

"I don't know," Evelyn said. She held the phone back to her ear. "Katie?"

"Come on, Evelyn," Katie said. "This is the last chance we'll have to do something together before graduation."

Evelyn sighed. "Fine. I'll come."

"This is a terrible idea," Dash said in the car later that night.

Ozzy looked out the window to see the sleepy streets of Southington County blanketed in a thin layer of snow. Porch lights glowed while the webbed tree branches casted shadows over the untouched snow. Houses sprawled on large rolling hills, the roads narrow with one lane of traffic coming and going in opposite directions.

After moving so many times in his life, many of the places Ozzy had lived in started to blend together. Something about Southington remained distinct yet unassuming.

"How is it a terrible idea?" Ozzy said.

"Where to start," Dash sighed. "It's New Year's Eve. You're showing up at Evelyn's childhood home, unannounced and uninvited with me, her ex, who her Aunt is probably frothing at the mouth to punish."

"I didn't think of it like that."

"Of course, you didn't!" Dash said throwing his hands up.

"Look, I know this is inconvenient for you, but would you rather have stayed home playing COD by yourself?"

"Who says that was what I had planned?"

"C'mon. There was no way you were peeling yourself off that couch until I made you."

"Whatever," Dash said. "What is your plan anyway?"

"Right now, get to Aunt Kim's house and try to reason with her to speak with Evelyn."

"Couldn't a text do that while eliminating the middleman?"

"Yeah, if only she was answering them."

Dash gave him a suspicious look. "What did you do?"

"I don't know and that's the problem," Ozzy said. "The only way I can find out is if I track her down in person."

Ozzy tapped the brake pedal and began turning the wheel into the narrow driveway he had walked up countless times. The house remained unchanged. It was quaint house with a long porch, sheer curtains covering the bay window, each wall wrapped in white siding with a single car garage.

Ozzy turned the key, shutting down the engine.

"Are you sure about this?" Dash said.

Ozzy gripped the car door handle. "Yes."

Ozzy led the way up the slippery driveway and up the front steps to the front wooden door. Ozzy rang the doorbell twice. He shoved his fists in his pockets, the cold air piercing through his coat.

When Aunt Kim opened the door, her eyebrows drew up and together as she looked between Ozzy and Dash. She also wore a coat, as if she were ready to leave.

"Ozzy…Dash. This is quite the surprise."

"Hi Mrs. Ainsley," Ozzy said. "I'm sorry to show up like this. Is Evelyn home?"

"No, she's not actually," Aunt Kim said. Her gaze narrowed as she looked at Dash. Dash's cheeks flushed despite the cold breeze.

"Could you tell us where she is?" Ozzy said. "I've been trying to get a hold of her all week."

"It's been a very stressful week," Aunt Kim said.

"I know. We heard about what happened to Mr. Bass—"

"And we can relate," Dash said. He couldn't meet Aunt Kim's stern gaze.

"How so?" Aunt Kim asked.

"Well, Dash's father was also arrested the same night as Mr. Bass. We were at the police station the same night."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Mrs. Ainsley said, her attention focused on Dash. "You have a lot of nerve for showing up here after what you did."

"I'm here to apologize," Dash said. "I'm really sorry for hurting Evelyn the way I did."

Aunt Kim crossed her arms without response.

"I know you put a lot of faith and trust in me, and I broke that. I don't expect you to accept it, but I truly am sorry."

Aunt Kim produced a stiff nod.

"Can you tell us where Evelyn is?" Ozzy asked.

"She's at a party. She went with Katie."

"Where?"

"Jared Whitman's house. It's on Woodruff Street."

Jared Whitman lived across from Southington Memorial Park in a navy-blue cape cod home. Evelyn had passed his house countless times over the summers on her way to and from soccer practice. As Katie pulled up the long driveway, Evelyn recalled the smell of fresh cut grass, memories of kicking a blue and white starred soccer ball with her teammates, angling towards goal. She liked the way the wise trees danced in the wind above her as they shielded her from the sun while watching over her at the same time.

As she stood in the living room by the red brick fireplace, all of her teammates she'd grown up with were now strangers. She felt as if all the trees had been cut down, and she was exposed, standing alone in the middle of the field.

It was impossible to ignore how much had changed since she left New York. Some faces had changed, some bodies had sprouted, hair dyed. She gripped her red cup and took a generous drink of punch.

Katie bounced toward her, holding one cup in each hand.

"I'm so so glad you came," Katie said, offering Evelyn one of her cups as a refill.

Evelyn finished her previous drink and fit the new cup into her empty cup. "It's crazy to be back here again. So much has changed."

A loud roar of cheers echoed from the kitchen where the kitchen table was repurposed as a beer pong table.

Katie rolled her eyes. "And yet, so much hasn't."

Jared emerged from the kitchen with a look of amazement on his face. He had grown at least a foot since Evelyn had seen him. He was now lanky with shaggy brown hair. He still wore his Bills jersey.

"You should have saw the trick shot Chris just made! He threw it behind his head, blindfolded, and it bounced off Tom's chest, and it went in the last cup!"

"No way," Katie said, perking up suddenly.

"It was incredible. Once in a lifetime incredible," Jared said.

"That's so cool," Katie said.

Evelyn took a closer look at Katie. She was holding back her wide smile, her attention never diverting from Jared.

Another loud cheer boomed from the kitchen causing Jared to jog back to see what he missed.

"Katie," Evelyn said.

"Yes?"

"Do you…like Jared?"

"What? Of course not," Katie said while avoiding her gaze. She proceeded to take another long drink.

"Katie, there's nothing to be ashamed of. Jared's a nice guy."

"I know," Katie said. "I just…don't know what to do about it."

"Well, it's usually best to start talking," Evelyn said. "Why don't you check out the beer pong game?"

"I've never paid attention to how beer pong is played," Katie said.

"Then Jared could give you some pointers," Evelyn said.

"What about you?"

"I'll be fine. Go," Evelyn said, giving Katie a gentle nudge.

Katie took determined steps to the kitchen. Evelyn surveyed the room seeing many vaguely familiar faces she didn't particularly want to converse with. She took a seat at the end of the nearest sofa that faced the front windows. She kept drinking steadily and checked her watch. It was one hour away from midnight.

She scrolled through her messages, seeing Ozzy's name pop up the most in her call history. She dropped her phone in her lap. He could call as much as he wanted, but she didn't want to pick up. She was angry at him for not being there when she needed him. She didn't know if it was fair to feel that way, but she still felt it. It was easier this way. He couldn't possibly understand what she was going through. And he certainly couldn't be dependable.

But maybe there was some else she could depend on.

Evelyn held her phone against her ear.

"Hello?"

Evelyn heard the thudding bass through the phone. "Nate?"

"Evelyn? Hold on a sec, I can barely hear you," Nate shouted.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have called—"

"Just hold on a sec," Nate shouted.

After a few moments, the thudding bass ceased. "Is everything okay?"

"Yes, I mean, yeah nothing tragic or anything. I just wanted to take you up on that offer about feeling less alone?"

"You're not by yourself right now are you?"

"No," Evelyn said. While she was in a house full of people, she felt as if she were sitting in an empty room. "I'm at a house party right now with all these people I used to go to school with."

"Not your scene is it?"

"Not anymore," Evelyn said. "I'm sorry for holding you up."

"Don't worry about that. Have you talked to Chuck?"

"Not since he left. Have you?"

"In and out. He's okay, just blowing off some steam."

"Where are you spending New Years?"

"At 1 Oak. It was last minute, but you know how overrated this holiday is."

"So overrated," Evelyn said.

"When do you get back to the city?" Nate asked.

"In a couple days. I'm kind of dreading it."

"The first few days will be tough, but you'll be able to pull through," Nate said.

"I hope so."

There was another loud cheer from the kitchen.

"What was that?"

"The world's most exciting beer pong tournament apparently."

"Oh really?"

"Really. One guy described the winning shot of last game as a once in a lifetime shot."

"See, now that's not possible, because I'm the one who made a once in a lifetime beer pong winning shot."

Evelyn rolled her eyes. "Sure, you did."

"There were witnesses!" Nate said. "I bounced the ball on a moving ceiling fan above the table, and it went in."

"There is no way you did that. That's impossible!"

"That's why it was a once in a lifetime shot," Nate said.

Evelyn felt the alcohol started to make her joints looser, and she started to sway. She was so consumed in her conversation with Nate, she didn't notice two people enter the house.

"I'll have to see that trick shot to believe it," Evelyn said.

Suddenly, she felt someone grab her phone out of her hand. She sprang up from where she was sitting, swaying to find her balance. When she looked up, she saw the two people she least expected.

It was Dash and Ozzy.

Chuck woke up to the clinking of crystal glasses. He squinted when he opened his eyes, his body heavy against the silk sheets. Chuck stretched his arms over his head and yawned.

"How long was I asleep for?"

"Almost an hour."

Blair carried a bottle of Dom Perignon in a pewter bucket. She set it on her bedside table.

"I thought you were trying to sober me up," Chuck said. He sat up, his head heavy and throbbing against the headboard. Her sobering schedule was starting to take effect.

"That's still in effect. I just thought I could make an exception since it's nearing midnight."

"How generous of you," Chuck said. "Wait a minute…something's different. That's a vintage Perignon. Nineteen ninety-four to be exact. You only toast with vintage if it's something serious."

"Aren't we a serious enough reason, Chuck?"

"Of course, but there's something else. What's on your mind?"

"I may have had an idea," Blair said.

"Please tell me it's something carnal."

"Not quite. I started thinking about how you said to me that you felt like you should have done more to stop Jack from taking over Bass Industries."

"Go on."

"Well, it's obvious that Jack is the one who started this whole mess to begin with right?"

"Right…"

"And since there's nothing we can do about your dad's trial, I was thinking of what we could do to be helpful."

"Which is?"

"What if we take down Jack?"

Jack. He had been vowing revenge on his Uncle for the past year and couldn't find a way then. But now, maybe he could? Maybe he could get back at Jack. Somehow find a way to strip him of running Bass Industries, so he could.

"Blair. This isn't high school. Jack is a master at this stuff. He even fooled us, remember?"

"Of course, I remember. We made mistakes then, but we know better now. And with his attention split between your father's trial and running Bass Industries, he'll be more vulnerable. Now's the best time to strike."

It had potential. It would take a significant amount of time and energy. He would have to abandon his studies for the term in order to take on such an endeavour.

"Are you sure you want to be involved, Blair? What about you? Your responsibilities? Your goals?"

"Are you suggesting I can't multitask, Bass?"

"Of course not."

"Good. Because I already have my plans in order. Besides, I know I'm one of the reasons Jack became CEO at Bass Industries in the first place."

"He'd been planning a return for years, Blair. It's not your fault," Chuck said.

"Still. You don't have to go through this alone. We can do this together. Instead of fighting with each other, we can focus our duplicity on others. Who better than your Uncle Jack?"

"Funny the things you do remember," Chuck sighed.

"I'm serious, Chuck. You don't have anything left to lose by trying this."

Chuck was pensive. He didn't have anything left to lose, did he? All that was left was their family fortune which might take a hit depending on how long the trial, bail, and repatriations may cost. Why should he stay stuck lamenting how much he didn't do before when he could be doing so much more right now?

"Alright. But if you want out at any time, you tell me okay, Blair? We don't know how messy this is going to get. No trying to protect my feelings or whatever. Just be honest."

Blair nodded. "I will."

Blair popped the bottle of Dom and poured them each a glass. She handed him his glass, and she hopped on the bed beside him.

Blair checked her watch. It was the last minute to midnight. Blair raised her glass in toast.

"To love and to war," Chuck said.

They clinked glasses as the clock struck midnight.

Bart watched the fireworks burst across the river from his office when the clock struck midnight. Some fireworks exploded colourful blasts that sparkled and fizzled while others sputtered gold sparkles.

He was fortunate that their building was far enough away from Time Square to avoid the ball drop spectators cheer and kiss while Bing Crosby's Let's Start the Year Right played. He was so high up that he couldn't see the specks of people stumbling around the island in celebration. From his perch that was closer to the clouds than the concrete, there was no celebration of the New Year. No phone calls. No cheering. No midnight kiss. Nothing.

Bart stepped away from the wall like windows and stumbled to his desk. His glass and empty decanter of scotch were atop of his amassing legal documents. He checked his phone for any messages, a call perhaps, a reminder that someone was thinking of him.

There were no messages.

Bart picked up his glass and drained the last of his scotch. He held the glass in his hand, seeing where his fingerprints marked the glass, and which fingerprints overlapped each other.

He rubbed his face with his hands and sighed. He loosened his tie, unbuttoned the top buttons of his shirt. He didn't imagine starting the New Year this way. Most people were jubilant, hopeful at the year to come. All Bart felt was dread.

He was a dead Bass walking. Pariah to all. Lone ranger to one. And the battle was only beginning.

Ozzy held Evelyn's phone in his hand. On her screen, the call display read: NATE ARCHIBALD MOBILE. He ended the call abruptly.

"What are you guys doing here?" Evelyn said.

Ozzy kept his gaze on her phone. It felt as if all of his joints in his body had locked. "You can pick up the phone for Nate Archibald, but you can't pick it up for me?"

Evelyn crossed her arms. She said nothing. She couldn't even meet his gaze.

"I'm going to get a drink," Dash announced.

Ozzy considered asking Dash to get him one but refrained. His gaze was locked on Evelyn, as he tried to figure out what had caused this rift between them. Evelyn gave him no context or clues.

"I don't know why you've been pushing me away this week but ignoring me and being mad at me isn't helping either of us." Ozzy took one step closer to her. "Talk to me."

Evelyn lifted her gaze, her eyes now glassy. "Where were you last Friday night? I went to your house and I tried calling you, but you weren't around. I needed you then, and you weren't there."

"I was at the police station, and I left my phone at home," Ozzy said.

"Wait, why were you at the police station?"

Ozzy noticed he was in a living room were small groups of people had quieted down. "It's a long story. Let's go somewhere a bit quieter, so I can tell you."

"Okay," Evelyn nodded. She set down her drink and sniffled. Ozzy held her cold hand in his and led her upstairs. He opened the first door on the right, an unoccupied bedroom, and flipped on the light switch.

Ozzy sunk into the quilted double bed. "The police came to our house that night to arrest Philip for corporate espionage. We followed him to the police station, and he was discharged the next morning. Things have been crazy ever since."

"I didn't know that happened," Evelyn said sinking into the bed. "I'm sorry."

"Dash is pretending like he's fine, and my mom's you know, being forgetful again. It's just been crazy," Ozzy said. "Look, I'm sorry I wasn't there. If I could go back, I would have been waiting or at least remembered my phone. It just all happened so fast."

"I'm sorry for shutting you out," Evelyn said with a sigh. Her shoulders slumped, her gaze in her hands. "I just didn't know what to do, and when I couldn't find you, I didn't know who I could turn to. I just felt really alone."

Her shoulders began to shake. Her face was blotchy, her tears began to trail down her face. Ozzy wrapped his arms around her and kissed her temple, wishing he could just shake the pain away from her.

"Ever since that night, everything's been getting worse and worse."

"How?"

Evelyn took a deep breath and sniffled. "Christmas was an awkward disaster. Chuck went AWOL, my father may have killed my mother, I was mad at you all week, and Aunt Kim just told me she was getting a divorce tonight!"

There were so many thoughts packed into that sentence that Ozzy didn't know where to start.

"I'm just so scared about what might happen. I don't want to go back to the city. I don't know how I can still live under the same roof as my dad, and who knows what social disaster is waiting for me at school," Evelyn said.

"That's a lot of what could happen," Ozzy said. "But it isn't what's going to happen."

"It will happen. I know it."

"So, what are you going to do then, move back to Southington?"

Evelyn grimaced.

"And here I thought all of these people were your friends?" Ozzy said.

"Were. Everyone's moved on," Evelyn said, smoothing out the creases of her dress.

"Listen, I don't think you should avoid going back to the city, and I'm not saying that because I live there now."

"Then why?"

"Because the longer you avoid this, the more you'll regret it," Ozzy said. "I know you have a history of running away from painful situations, but they always catch up with you."

"And you don't?"

"This isn't about me," Ozzy said. "All I'm saying is that I know, and I think you know, that you can face this head on. You won't be facing it alone. From now on, you can count on me. No need to call the likes of Nate Archibald for a stand-in. I'll sleep with my phone on my pillow if you need me too."

Evelyn's worried face broke into a slight grin. She turned to face him, putting her hands in his.

"Thank you for driving here to see me."

"I had to get your attention somehow," Ozzy said. "I knew if I didn't do something, I could lose you again. I didn't want to take that chance."

"Well, it worked."

"Admit it, you were surprised."

"Maybe a little," Evelyn said.

"You want to hear another surprise?"

"Like what?"

"Well, you aren't the only one getting dumped with news," Ozzy said. "My dad's moving to New York."

"Really? That's…that's—"

"A surprise? I know. I don't know what to do with it either."

"When is he moving?"

"No idea. Sometime in January I think."

Downstairs, they could hear the fifty second countdown begin. Evelyn jumped up and noticed the pink wallpapered walls, plush beige carpet, the nightstand stacked with hardback library books. She let out a laugh.

"Where are we right now?"

"A random house party in the suburbs?"

Evelyn pulled him up and looped her arms around his neck. Ozzy ran his hands down her sides, settling on her lower back.

The sounds of their old classmates' raucous voices boomed, as the countdown neared the teens.

"Are you ready?" Ozzy said, as the fleeting seconds of the year faded away.

Evelyn leaned on him, her fingers tangling in his curly hair near the nape of his neck. "I am now."

Aristotle once wrote, "It is during our darkest moments that we must focus to see the light." With focus, we can see clearly what is most important to us. Family. Love. Revenge. But as this year ends, another one begins. With focus, we can see that the darkness at midnight will pass, and a new dawn will always break.

And what's breaking next? That's one secret I'll never tell.

Xoxo Gossip Girl

A/N: And there you have it! Chuck/Blair agree to focus their duplicity on others, Bart prepares for his pre-trial, and Evelyn/Ozzy work through their first fight. Lots happened in this chapter, and I look forward to hearing your thoughts!

So what's happening next? The next chapter will be titled "Crime and Non-Punishment".

Thanks for reading and stay safe (and sane) everyone!

Till next time,

XOXO EZ11