A/N: Happy belated New Year readers! I hate to sound like a broken record, but I'm truly sorry for taking so long to update. I started a new job, got COVID along with my entire family over the holidays, endured another lockdown...It's been a lot. Rest assured, I've fully recovered as has my family thankfully.

After a long wait, the next chapter is finally here. Enjoy!

Chapter 57: I, Bartholomew

Hey Upper East Siders, Gossip Girl here. After today's most recent bombshell in the courtroom, we're left with more questions than answers, and we're not the only ones looking for some honesty. Chin up, E. It's time to face the music, and this tune may sound more familiar than you think.

"I don't want to go."

After much convincing, Evelyn sat in the limo, parked outside the skyscraper she called home for the past couple years. Tonight, the penthouse was obscured by low rolling clouds, yet she could sense its stature looming over her.

"You have to face him eventually," Ozzy said. "It's better not to drag it out."

Evelyn felt his arm weigh down her shoulder. She welcomed the weight. It was a grounding force through all the chaos that surrounded her.

Evelyn knew she had to face the situation at hand. This time, there was nowhere to run. There was no time to let things blow over. She had tried to push the trial aside all semester, but it was all for naught. For the first time, Evelyn realized that there are things you couldn't run away from. Any attempt to run away did more harm than good.

"Text me when you get home?" Evelyn said.

Ozzy waited in the car until she disappeared in the elevator chute. Each floor lit up like a steady crescendo. Evelyn's hands became balmy, her thoughts raced so fast they were incomprehensible. What could she say to him now?

The penthouse was shrouded in darkness and shadows. Lily had extended her spa week due to the stress of the trial. Eric was likely in his room. Which left…Bart.

She now felt uncertain calling him father. Something she took for granted for the past years was now being challenged, and she wasn't sure she wanted to know the answer. She wasn't sure if she could accept the answer.

Only one lamp was lit in the living room where two familiar figures sat in silence, slouched in the chairs, faces weary.

"Aunt Kim?" Evelyn said. "What are you doing here?"

Aunt Kim snapped up from her seat. "I came to see how you were doing of course. I heard you've had quite the day."

Bart sat on the couch and took another drink. His cold blue eyes pierced her.

"That's an understatement," Evelyn said. "I'm sorry if I worried you."

"It's okay," Aunt Kim said. "Ozzy told me you were with him, so I didn't worry."

Evelyn looked past her aunt. She stepped towards Bart and cleared her throat.

"Is it true then?"

He didn't respond.

"What was said at the trial today. Was it true?"

"Evelyn, please—"

"Don't 'please', me," Evelyn said. "You've kept me in the dark for long enough about this. Is it true?"

Bart's words were crisp and curt. "Yes."

Evelyn turned to Aunt Kim. "Did you know?"

"Somewhat."

"So, everyone knew before me?" Evelyn said. "Did Chuck know too? This is unbelievable."

Aunt Kim held her forearm. "Evelyn, I know you're upset—"

"Upset? I'm not just upset. I'm angry. Humiliated. Do you know what it feels like to learn something private you didn't know so publicly?"

"Well I—"

"No, you don't."

Evelyn shrugged out of her aunt's grip and stood over Bart. "Are you my father or did you always know I was Jack's?"

"Evelyn, please. Now's not the time—"

"Of course, now's the time. If he's not my father, then why am I here?"

Bart swayed as he stood, a shadow over her. "If you find this arrangement so uncomfortable for you, then go. I won't hold you here."

His words crackled like ice cubes made upon contact with water.

"Maybe I will."

He swayed as walked to the staircase. He gripped the railing to steady himself. "Fine. You know where the exit is then since you think you know everything."

Her eyes became blurry as she watched him disappear up the staircase. His words not only pierced her, but his distance froze her.

Aunt Kim embraced her and rubbed her upper back. "It's okay, Evelyn. He didn't mean what he said. He's just very upset, and besides…"

"Besides what?"

"Don't listen to what your father says. You're not going anywhere tonight. Understood?"

"I can't stay here, Aunt Kim."

"Oh yes you can. I'll be here, and are you going to leave poor Eric alone?"

"Fine." Evelyn sniffled. "But I'm not talking to him."

"That's your right," Aunt Kim said. "Now it's time for bed. A good night's rest should help."

"Aunt Kim?"

"Yes?"

"Do you think…Jack is my father?"

"Although today I learned that I can't know for sure, I don't think so."

"How can you know?"

"Because. You're far more alike than you are different."

Spotted: E learning that the truth hurts, but what hurts even more is facing the consequences.

Blair woke up to the sound of a wailing alarm. She rolled over and felt cold rumpled sheets beside her. She sat up, looking around for an alarm to snooze, but she remembered that she didn't set an alarm. The last thing she remembered from the night before was scheming with Chuck over a gin martini. Blair pressed her fingers to her throbbing temple. A few gin martinis.

Blair dragged herself out of bed and found Chuck in the kitchen. He was dressed in a grey suit and purple bowtie, his phone pressed to his ear. The alarm continued to wail, but Chuck seemed unaffected by it.

"Thank you for fitting us in on such short notice," Chuck said. "Yes…Great. Thank you."

"Morning beautiful," Chuck said and kissed her on the cheek.

Blair scowled. She felt anything but beautiful in her haggard and sleepy state.

"Don't you hear that alarm? Or are you now deaf?"

"Which alarm?"

After a brief sting of silence, the alarm wailed again.

"That alarm," Blair said pointing to the smoke detector. "What did you do?"

"Must you always assume it was me?"

"When isn't it you?"

"Now actually. The building is running a test. Should be finished soon."

"This is a test," A gruff voice sounded over the intercom. "Please do not panic. This is a test."

Chuck smirked. "See?"

Blair ignored his victorious smirk and moved to the coffee maker, her back facing him.

Chuck checked his watch. "I have to be off to make that appointment."

"At the hospital?" Blair said.

"Yes."

There was a sparkle in his eye, a renewed vigor and determination that made Blair proud and slightly nervous. She didn't want him to get his hopes up for everything to fall apart again.

"Are you sure about this?"

"Of course. Unless." Chuck's gaze shifted to doubt. "Unless you don't think it's a good idea?"

"It's a good idea," Blair said. "One of our best. I just…hope there won't be any surprises along the way."

"We'll take it as it comes," Chuck said.

"I wasn't talking about you. I meant for your family. If this goes sidesways, it'll directly affect them."

Chuck checked his phone again. Since he learned about his mother's affair, he decided to address it as a cold fact and hadn't spent a moment wondering about its implications.

"That's a risk I'll have to take," Chuck said finally. "I'm not just doing it for me you know. It's no longer about getting revenge on Jack. Considering recent revelations, this will benefit the whole family."

Blair hoped he was right. If it didn't, Blair suspected it could break the Bass family for good.

"I'm off."

"Let me know how it goes," Blair said.

Blair sipped her coffee once Chuck had left and wondered if this scheme was a good idea after all. They've managed risky schemes before, meddled with people's lives, but this time was different. This time, they were meddling with people's lives they cared about most. The consequences for failure were real.

Blair's thoughts were interrupted with a phone ring. Blair groaned at the sound and picked up.

"Blair, it's Liz. Did I wake you?"

"No. I already received my wakeup call."

"Oh good. I have some good—no wait—great news to share with you."

Blair frowned. "What is it?"

"Your article. The one about the uniform for the spring season?"

"I remember it."

"It's gone viral. Visitor traffic has blown through the roof. It's been shared almost eight thousand times."

"Oh really? That's great—no. That's fantastic!"

"It's the most read article we've had on the site," Liz said.

"Wow. I-I don't know what to say."

"Say hello internships!" Liz said. "Really this is the stuff they look for. I'm thinking we need to follow-up with a second part ASAP to keep our new readership engaged. Can you write a follow-up article by the end of day tomorrow?"

"Of course."

"Great. Keep me up to date on your progress and let me know if you have any questions."

Blair hung up and leaned back in her chair. Viral? She always knew she had superior instincts when it came to fashion, but she never expected the internet masses to be smart enough to follow them.

The smoke alarm wailed again, but this time, Blair wasn't fazed. She stood up, hopped from one foot to the other while clapping her hands. She looked up to the ceiling and whispered, "Thank you."

Queen B's blog may be going viral, but can she keep it up? Speaking from experience, you're only as good as you last blast, and if you don't have more soon, everyone will move on.

The trial continued at the steady pace of a drumbeat. Every day, a new witness took the oath, was examined then cross examined while the jury took notes.

After Jack's explosive testimonial, as described in detail by the tabloids, Bart was somewhat relieved that the next witness that was called to the stand was Philip. Frank thought it was necessary to bring on Philip to cast doubt on Bart's financial motivations to set the fire. Since Philip was Bart's longest partner, investor, and friend, no one could speak better or more highly of Bart when Bass Industries was at its infancy.

Frank took careful steps toward Philip, the polished floors creaking underneath each step. The creaks sent throbs to Bart's temple. His head throbbed from a lack of sleep and steady supply of scotch.

"How did you meet Mr. Bass?"

"We met at school. College. We both joined the entrepreneurship society in our sophomore year."

"Before you went into business, were you friends?"

Philip nodded slowly. "I wouldn't say close friends, but acquaintances."

"So how did you get involved with Bass Industries?"

"Bart approached me with the idea. He needed capital, and at first I said no. I thought it was risky, and I wasn't quite sure what I wanted to do with my life."

"What changed your mind?"

"I got to see the vision."

"What do you mean, see the vision?"

"Bart asked me to meet him up at the very building that's at the center of all this. He showed me the financials, we toured the place, it was pretty rundown mind you, but I was able to see the potential that not only this building had, but the ability to transform one purchase into multiple, creating a prestigious brand that people would want to live in, or in the cases of our hotel branch, stay at."

"If you were a sophomore, why would he approach you to be an investor?"

"My grandfather started a company called Union Steel which grew under my father's leadership until it merged with another company to make United Steel, one of the largest Steel companies in the world. My eldest brother inherited the company and continued to run it to this day, so a lot of the money my family made was either donated to charities or invested. By that time, I had access to my trust fund and some of my inheritance, so I could decide how I wanted to use those limited funds. I thought it was wise to start investing."

"Did you use a portion of those funds to invest in Bart's venture?"

"Yes."

"How much did you invest?"

Philip's smile was anxious. "Most of it."

"That's quite a gamble. Why did you take such a risk?"

"You have to take risks to succeed. I wasn't in line to take over my family's business as I have two older brothers, so I saw this as an opportunity to craft my own opportunity."

"So, you must have had trust in Bart's vision and ability to pour your entire safety net into the venture."

"As much as you can."

"Can you elaborate?"

"You can't know one hundred percent if a venture's going to turn out. It very well couldn't have worked out, but I sensed that it would."

Bart's temple continued to throb. It was interesting to hear Philip's perception of events from that time. They'd never discussed or reminisced about it. They were always looking forward.

"How would you describe Bart as the founder of Bass Industries during that time?"

Philip didn't immediately respond. He paused, and with each second that passed, Bart felt his credibility was waning. Weren't they interviewing Philip to build up his credibility?

"I'd say he was very industrious and driven. Resourceful, but always a good listener. He always learned quickly."

"So were you just an investor initially?"

"Initially, yes. But a few years later, I was invited on by Bart to be the financial controller."

"Were you the financial controller during the month of May 1991?"

"Yes."

"Can you explain to us what your role was?"

"I took care of the financial assets, statements, and overall cashflow during that time. I also built up our financial processes and procedures and worked very closely with the insurance adjusters after the fire."

"How close did Bart work with financials?"

"He had complete trust in me to take care of it. We'd have our meetings and go over how our financials were looking on a regular basis."

"Did he ever express any concern about the financial outlook?"

"He always asked questions, but nothing out of the ordinary. He was always confident that we'd be able to turn a profit."

"Were you confident?"

"I was actually. By ninety-one, I saw a large period of growth ahead if we stayed disciplined."

Frank turned to the judge. "No more questions your honor."

Bart's shoulders relaxed. Philip had no reason to lie. Everything he said was true.

Eloise stood and made her way to the center of the court room.

"Mr. Montgomery, you said that you and Mr. Bass had regular financial meetings during the months leading up to May in 1991. Is that correct?"

"Yes. We had weekly meetings."

"What would you discuss in your financial meetings?"

"It depended. We'd discuss anything from our liquidity to the balance sheet."

"Did Mr. Bass ever show…concern over the company's financials leading up to and including the month of May in 1991?"

Bart licked his cracked lips. He was dehydrated, but he didn't want to reach for water, take an indulgent sip, for thinking the press might pick up on it, construe that his sip of water was a sign of reprieve during a difficult question.

"I don't understand the question. Can you be more specific?"

"Did Mr. Bass ever show concern that his property, his only property at that time, wasn't profitable?"

Philip bobbed his head, clearly unsure if he remembered the truth correctly. "I wouldn't say it was anything out of the ordinary."

"But you said he was confident. If he was confident, he had no reason to doubt that this risky venture wouldn't work out. Did he ever express doubt in the profitability of the building?"

Bart could only hear the scribbles and snapshots of photographers behind him. His eyes felt heavy, his neck stiff.

"As the CEO of Bass Industries, I would expect him to show concerns of our profitability. We were relying on investor capital during the early years, and it was important to show that we could turn a profit, but it was my job to point these out to him and together we'd find solutions to cut costs, make our business more robust and efficient, so we could make a profit, and later a greater profit."

"What was the biggest obstacle to making a greater profit?"

"The building was older, and it needed repairs and upgrades to match the new codes that were enacted into law."

"If a building is older, don't many real estate development companies tear down the building and build a new one?"

"Not necessarily. That requires huge capital that we didn't have."

"So what was the plan to overcome this obstacle?"

"Upgrade the building. The neighborhood itself was experiencing a rebirth, and the structure of the building was sound and built well. It just needed upgrades like the electrical work, plumbing, and aesthetic fixes like the lobby being renovated."

"How long would it have taken you to complete these upgrades given the investor money you had at the time?"

"We were quoted for a year and a half total, but deadlines are never met in construction."

"How long did it take for the new building to be built?"

"About eighteen months."

"Not a bad trade off. That meant you were able to increase the rent and recoup lost profits?"

"Yes, but we were lucky that the New York State Legislature passed a series of changes to the rent regulation laws that allowed landlords to legally increase rents on stabilized apartments, especially once a tenant moved out. This made it much easier remove the rent increase caps, so we could charge rent at whatever price we wanted."

"By the time this law passed, the new building was built?"

"Yes."

"Did you need to fill the building with new tenants?"

"That's correct."

"It takes years for legislature to become law in many cases. Were you or Mr. Bass aware of this law?"

"Not that I remember. I don't remember us being aware of anything outside the business at the time."

"Not even your families?"

"Objection your honor. Speculation."

"Sustained."

"Did you and Mr. Bass ever talk about your families?"

"Of course."

"Did you have any idea that Mr. Bass and Mrs. Bass were having marital problems?"

"I thought they were hitting a rough patch. It didn't seem more serious than that."

"Was Mr. Bass typically light on details about his personal life?"

"He was business appropriate with sharing details about his personal life if that's what you mean."

"Did you ever meet Mrs. Bass?"

"Yes."

"What was your impression of her?"

"She was lovely. Kind. Had a great sense of humor."

"When was the last time you saw Mrs. Bass?"

"I-I don't remember. I think it was New Year's Eve."

"No further questions."

"Are we going to catch every red light today?" Evelyn said.

Evelyn slumped in her seat and rubbed her tired eyes. She tossed and turned all night, unable to think of anything but the mess the trial had left in her lap and the chill words father spat at her the night before.

"Seems likely," Eric said. He stole a tentative glance at Evelyn, unsure whether to say anything more.

"You know…" Eric said after a long pause before the next light turned green. "You can always talk to me if you need an ear."

Evelyn turned to Eric and grinned. "I know I can count on you. Thank you."

They arrived at school to the usual crowds milling around the courtyard. Evelyn slung her backpack over her shoulder and prepared for the whispers, pointing, and looks. She was prepared for the leers, taunts, and cruel jokes. She'd already weathered those storms before, and although she didn't want to again, she now felt more prepared.

As she closed the limo door, she saw Chuck waiting at the front gates, hands in his pockets.

"What are you doing here?"

Chuck smirked. "Can't I come visit my dear sister at my alma mater?"

Evelyn folded her arms across her chest. "I thought you swore off educational institutions?"

"I didn't swear off educational institutions. I've just taken a leave of absence. Big difference."

"Why are you really here Chuck?"

"I told you. I came here to see you."

Ozzy appeared, stepping out of the Montgomery car parked behind Chuck's limo. "Hey. What's—" He stopped when he noticed Chuck.

Chuck eyed him up and down and returned his attention to Evelyn. "We have an appointment to make. Come on."

"Appointment?" Ozzy said.

"It's a family matter," Chuck said, glaring at Ozzy.

Evelyn's eyes narrowed. "Well, whatever you have to say Chuck, you can say in front of Ozzy."

Chuck readjusted his sleeves, a look of irritation marking his face. "I'll explain in the car."

"Hold on. You've been MIA for months, and now you want to see me and have anything to do with me? It doesn't work like that."

"Look, I wouldn't be bothering you if it wasn't important. This is not only important but time sensitive."

"But I have school."

Chuck smirked. "Please sis. Like that's ever stopped you before."

Evelyn locked her gaze with Chuck's. She weighed her options. She could be proud and stand-up Chuck, or she could go and possibly confront something she wasn't sure she wanted to know.

"Fine, but you have to explain everything before I do anything. And I'm not agreeing to any appointment either."

"I will on the way."

Evelyn turned to Ozzy. "Can you tell the headmistress that I went home sick?"

Ozzy didn't answer immediately, his wary gaze on Chuck. "Okay. Just let me know if you need anything."

Chuck threw his arm around Evelyn and said, "Thanks, but she won't be needing that."

Evelyn shrugged his protective arm off and followed him to the car.

"Where are we going?"

Chuck watched the rain streak across the windowpane.

"Chuck. You said you'd explain," Evelyn said.

He never promised a full explanation. He only promised to explain the purpose of the appointment and why he believed Evelyn should take the test. Anything beyond that was not relevant to mention, not to mention a spoiler for his plan.

"We're going to the hospital."

"Why?"

"You have an appointment."

"How could you arrange an appointment without me knowing?"

Chuck turned and smirked. "We are family, and you're still underage."

Evelyn collapsed against the leather seat. "Just great. We can't keep anything private in this family, can we?"

Chuck opened the mini fridge. "I'd beg to differ. Sometimes we keep things too private for too long. Would you like a drink?"

"No thanks. What is this appointment for anyway?"

"I thought that's obvious in light of recent events. You're getting a paternity test."

Evelyn's eyes widened. "Are you out of your mind? I'm not getting a paternity test."

"Why not? Don't you want to know?"

"No."

"That's surprising. You usually like to know the answer to everything."

"That's because I'm the last to know anything," Evelyn said. "I'm not getting that test, so you may as well tell the driver to turn back. I could make it to second period."

Chuck realized he may have overestimated Evelyn's willingness to participate in his plan. He overestimated how the trial had been affecting her, and how this news had shaken her in a way it couldn't shake him.

"Why don't you want to know?" Chuck asked, his tone softening.

"Because I just don't."

"Are you scared that Jack could be your father?"

"I don't even know Jack."

"It's perfectly reasonable to fear that outcome. He's not…the fatherly type."

"Neither is Bart."

Bart. He thought he was the only child to call him by his first name. This surprised him. He didn't think Evelyn would shed their father's title so quickly.

"Look, the intention of this test isn't to prove anything to the world least of all Bart or Jack. You need to take this test to know for sure for you."

"Can a test prove that? Chuck, I never doubted who my father was. I never gave it a second thought. But even with a test, I'm going to wonder…question at times if the test was right or wrong. I just want certainty and there's only one answer I'm certain that I'll accept. I can't risk hearing the other answer."

"If you don't take the risk now, you'll never know the truth," Chuck said. "Sis, if you don't do this now, you'll continue to go through life fearing things you can't control. You can't live like that."

Evelyn traced a few figure eights into the leather with her finger. A couple tears trickled down her face.

Her voice was quiet when she finally spoke, head down. "What if I'm not your sister, anymore?"

Chuck reached forward and placed his hand over hers. "You'll always be my sister. Literally or figuratively. We'll still be bound by blood either way."

Evelyn nodded. "Even when you're being a rude and self-absorbed ass?"

"Even more then."

"Fine. Let's get it over with."

Chuck grinned. He never doubted her grit, determination, and ability to overcome her fears. It was something he admired about her.

Whether it was Bart or Jack who was her father mattered little to Chuck. What he would do with either result mattered most. He had a plan for either outcome.

"I'm scared though," Evelyn said.

"Be scared if you were going through this alone," Chuck said. "You're not alone."

Kim was the next witness that was called to the stand that morning. She wore a black suit with a ruffled lavender blouse. Her hair was slicked back in a tight bun, her posture poised, gaze focused.

She was the last witness called to be the stand from Frank and his team aside from Bart himself, and he was relieved that she was the last witness the jury would hear from before his own testimony. Unless she had been putting on an act the entire time, Bart thought that Kim would do whatever she could to help his case, which he couldn't say he believed had this trial happened years before.

Frank began his line of questioning about the nature of her relationship with Misty. He started with their childhood and moved up to their college years. Then he asked questions about when Kim met Bart, the nature of their relationship that coincided when Kim lived with Misty and Bart the year before Chuck was born.

"Where were you on the night of May twenty-forth nineteen ninety-three?"

"I was in Connecticut."

"What were you doing there?"

"I had just moved to a town outside of Hartford called Southington with my fiancé a couple months before. We went out for dinner that night at this bistro called La Cantina. We then went out to see a movie."

"What movie did you see?"

"Groundhog Day."

"You were in another state as the events of this evening unfolded?"

"Correct."

"When did you hear the news that your sister was in the hospital?"

"I received a call from Mr. Bass around four in the morning."

"What did he say?"

"He said that my sister was in the hospital. She was going into early labor and there were complications."

"Did you go to the hospital that night?"

"Yes. I told him I was on my way and left immediately. I got there in a couple hours so about six in the morning."

"What happened when you arrived at the hospital?"

"I had trouble finding the right department. I thought she was in the maternity ward but was in emerg. When I finally got there, she was in emergency surgery."

"Did you see your sister at all when you were at the hospital?"

Kim looked down at her hands. "I didn't."

"Did you see Mr. Bass at the hospital?"

"Yes."

"What was he wearing?"

"He wore a suit. I don't remember the color or any detail about it."

"Did his suit look at all dirty?"

"No."

"Did it smell like anything?"

"No."

"No more questions your honor."

Eloise stood and rounded the bench.

"Mrs. Ainsley, when you arrived at the hospital, you said you saw Mr. Bass. Is that correct?"

"Yes."

"Did you speak with Mr. Bass?"

"Yes."

"Can you recall the nature of the conversation?"

Kim shifted in her seat. "As you can imagine, it was a very stressful moment—"

"Of course," Eloise said. "What did you say to Mr. Bass?"

"Well…I was angry, and when I'm angry I don't completely remember what I say."

"You were angry at Mr. Bass?"

"I was angry at my sister being in the hospital. I was scared that she was going to, well, pass."

"Did you place blame on Mr. Bass?"

"No. I was angry that he wasn't with her when it happened. You see—"

"Where did Mr. Bass say he was?"

"He said he was at the office until he had a meeting with an investor."

"Did you believe that he was at the office?"

"You said that you lived with Mr. and Mrs. Bass a couple years before in nineteen ninety one. How late would Bart work then?"

"It depended. If he didn't have meetings with investors in the evening, he'd be home by seven or eight."

"And if he had meetings with investors, when would he return home?"

"Anytime from ten to after midnight."

"Did you ever notice any tensions between Mr. and Mrs. Bass when you lived with them?"

"A little bit, but nothing out of the ordinary."

"Can you define ordinary?"

"Having disagreements on small everyday things like if you leave your socks on the floor, or not putting a plate in the dishwasher once you've finished with it. That kind of stuff."

"Were you aware that Mrs. Bass had an affair?"

"When?"

"Were you aware that Mrs. Bass had an affair before her death?"

"Yes."

"When did you find out?"

"A month before the twenty fourth of May."

"How did you find out?"

"When my sister told me that she was planning to leave her marriage."

"You didn't see any signs?"

"There were signs, but I didn't heed them. I was focused on my own affairs."

"How did you react to your sister telling you of her plans?"

"I wasn't happy. I told her that she was making a big mistake."

"She was making a big mistake leaving her marriage?"

"No. She was making a big mistake leaning on someone outside her marriage to escape the problems within it."

"What were the problems with her marriage?"

"Objection your honor. Conjecture."

"Sustained."

"Did she say there were problems with her marriage?"

"Yes?"

"What were they?"

"She felt that Mr. Bass was putting more devotion into Bass Industries than herself or their family."

"Mrs. Bass was concerned that Mr. Bass cared more about his company than their relationship?"

"Yes."

"If he cared that much about Bass Industries, would it be plausible for him to protect it at all costs?"

Frank rose from his chair. "Objection your honor. Speculation."

"Sustained."

"When you told her that she was making a big mistake, what did she think about that?"

"She asked me to leave."

"Did you speak with her again after that?"

"No, unfortunately."

"Did you speak to Mr. Bass at all after that conversation?"

"No. I considered it, but I didn't think it was my place to get involved."

"Did you ever see Mr. Bass's building before the fire?"

"No."

"Did Mr. Bass ever show a tendency for jealousy?"

"No."

"If he found out about of the affair, is he capable of doing something about it?"

"Objection your honor. Speculation."

Eloise stepped up close to Kim. Her steps were deliberate, and she rested her arm along the ledge of the witness box.

"Did you file a lawsuit against Mr. Bass in nineteen ninety-five for the custody of Evelyn Misty Bass?"

"Um, well, yes—"

"In the lawsuit, you claimed that Mr. Bass was not capable of raising his infant daughter. Is this true?"

"Yes because—"

"So you felt that Mr. Bass was not fit to be a parent?"

"No."

Eloise paused, giving Kim the much-needed time to explain.

"Mr. Bass was in mourning. He was not well, and I thought that he couldn't give the live his daughter needed in those formative years. I thought it was my duty to step in."

"And what about his son? Was he not well enough for either child?"

"It's different. His son was aware of him, was familiarized, and had a rapport. It would have been too hard to uproot him. With his daughter, I thought he couldn't see past what happened that night to truly care for her in the way she needed. I thought I was the best person capable to give her the life she deserved."

"You thought you could care for this child more than her own father."

"At the time, yes."

"Do you still think that way today?"

Kim paused. "I'm not so certain."

Eloise turned to the judge.

"No further questions your honor."

Evelyn counted the ceiling tiles in the hospital waiting room. Each speckled tile was aligned neatly in rows, each square slightly yellowed from age. Evelyn counted the tiles for the tenth time, counting the top and side rows like a mathematics timetable.

"How much longer do we have to wait?"

Chuck checked his watch. "Should be another ten minutes to process the results."

She ran her tongue along the inside of her cheek and felt the area that was swiped with a cotton swab. Her mouth tasted chalky, and the inside of her cheek felt slightly dry.

"Did Dad ever talk about Mom with you?"

"Never."

"Me neither," Evelyn said. "I always assumed it was because she died."

Chuck folded his arms across his chest. "There was a time where I thought he blamed me for her death."

"Really?"

"He told me Mom died giving birth to me. I thought for a long time I was the reason she died."

"You don't have to worry about that now because clearly I was a factor."

"Don't put that on yourself. It wasn't your fault."

"I can't help but feel like it was. I mean, look where we are right now, Chuck."

"Look. I put that guilt on myself for years, and it did nothing but give me pain. Don't make the same mistake. It's not your fault."

"How long did you think it was your fault?"

"Until I found out about you."

Evelyn sunk in her chair. "It was like I didn't exist."

It was like time had stopped after Chuck was born. There were no memories, photos, or mementos from that time. That time was blacked out, burned from existence.

"Again. Not your fault."

Evelyn started pacing.

"Do you think he would ever have told you about me had you not found out?"

"I don't know."

Evelyn's pace quickened.

"Then why find me at all after all these years?"

"I always thought it was guilt."

Evelyn stopped. Was it guilt or shame that brought her father back into her life? She began to wonder if her father had always been ashamed of her. Ashamed and doubtful that she was even his.

"It's not like he'll tell us," Evelyn said, her voice full of bitterness.

"I always thought he never got over Mom's death. But maybe it's always been more than that."

"Like what?"

"In light of recent events, I wonder if Dad has never gotten over the betrayal from Mom and Jack."

Evelyn felt a pang of sympathy for her father, but it was quickly replaced with resentment. What did that have to do with her? What they did wasn't her fault, so why take it out on herself and Chuck all these years?

"Maybe, but that still doesn't make it right with everything that's happened to us."

"Of course, it isn't right. I don't think it'll ever be right."

"What did you think when you found out about Mom and Jack?"

"I didn't."

"You didn't think about it at all?"

"Here's some advice, sis. Don't think too much about these things because you'll have more questions than answers. From my experience, Bart will never give you the answers you need."

"But it's all playing out in court right now. Shouldn't we have a right to know these things before they become public?"

"Think of it this way. Without the trial, you wouldn't have found out anything about this. You've learned more this way."

"But it shouldn't have had to happen this way!"

"I know. But it's happening, and there's nothing we can do to stop it."

A nurse appeared with a clipboard. After calling on the names of several patients, she called Evelyn's name.

"Your results are ready at the reception desk."

Evelyn and Chuck returned to reception where a light envelop with Evelyn's name, address, and phone number were printed on the cover. The envelop felt heavy in her hands, and she passed it off to Chuck quickly without a glance as they left the hospital.

Evelyn sat across the dining room table and watched Chuck thumb the envelop corner to corner repeatedly. She squeezed her arms across her chest, her legs twisted one on top of the other.

Chuck checked his watch.

"Hungry?"

"No."

Chuck paused his shuffling of the envelop. "That's a first."

Evelyn's gaze dropped to the floor. The answer for once and for all remained in Chuck's hands, and she was torn between wanting to tear open the results and burning them.

The elevator pinged. Aunt Kim appeared with a new suede bag slung over her shoulder. She approached them and was startled when she noticed they were seated in the dining room, in the dark.

Aunt Kim flicked on the lights. "Oh my God, you scared me. Why are you both sitting in the dark?"

As the sun set, neither had the energy nor will to turn on the light.

"We're waiting for Bart," Chuck said.

Aunt Kim eyed Evelyn. "How long have you been waiting?"

Evelyn shrugged.

"About an hour," Chuck said.

"Are either of you hungry? It's almost time for dinner."

"No thank you," Evelyn said.

Aunt Kim rested her warm hand on Evelyn's sharp shoulder blades. "Evie, what's the matter?"

Evelyn pointed to the envelop. Just as Aunt Kim was going to pick it up, the elevator dinged again.

It was Bart. He waltzed up to the bar card and poured himself a drink. He was unaware that any of them were sitting in silence, watching him. He poured a full glass of scotch and drank it like it was water on a hot summer day.

"Quenched your thirst, father?" Chuck said.

Bart didn't startle. He rubbed a cocktail napkin against his prickly stubble and stuffed his hands in his pockets.

"What is it this time, Chuck?"

Chuck held up the envelop.

"This time it's personal."

"What's that?" Bart asked.

"Test results."

"For what?" Aunt Kim said.

"Evelyn's paternity."

Aunt Kim snatched the envelop from Chuck's grasp. "Why on Earth for?"

"To know the truth," Chuck said. "There's no other way to get it around here."

"That's ridiculous," Aunt Kim said. "Right, Bart? Bart?"

Bart inspected the glass tumbler in his hand with intense focus.

"Did you open it?" Bart asked finally.

"No," Chuck said. "We were waiting for you."

Chuck turned to Evelyn, who was still seated, her limbs twisted around her body like a firm fisher's knot.

"Would you like to do the honors sis, or should I?"

"Evelyn, you don't have to do this," Aunt Kim said. She turned to Chuck. "You put her up to this didn't you?"

"I was looking out for my sister."

"This is looking out for her? Look at her. She's in nothing but pain!"

"Can the pain be any worse than being lied to for her whole life?" Chuck said.

Aunt Kim looked to Bart who looked back at the bar cart. Chuck took this as his cue to open the envelop. Chuck used a gold letter opener to tear the envelop open.

Evelyn felt her stomach tighten; her heartbeat began to race. What ifs started to flicker in her mind like an old projector, each piece of film showing a split second of doubt each different than the other.

Chuck unfurled the paper and read silently, his eyes moving from left to right.

"Hmm."

"Let me see it," Aunt Kim said.

"No need to worry, sis." Chuck smirked. "You're still a Bass whether you like it or not."

Aunt Kim snatched the paper from his hands, doubtful of Chuck's proclamation. Her shoulders sagged with relief when her eyes scanned the middle of the page, and she held it to her chest.

"I knew it."

Aunt Kim brough the crinkled paper to Evelyn who didn't feel relief. She still felt angry.

"I told you there was nothing to worry about," Chuck said.

Evelyn shoved the crumpled paper into his chest and stormed to her room.

Chuck read the crinkled paper once more. There it was, with concrete percentages and all, the proof that loomed large over their family since Jack took the stand.

Aunt Kim hovered over Chuck. Her lips were curved in a deep frown, her hands rooted at her hips.

"What were you thinking?"

Chuck smirked. He never failed to be amused by a huffing outburst. It reminded him of a clown.

"I was thinking that since my own father neglected to tell myself or my sister about anything regarding the fire or our own mother's affair, that I needed to find out myself."

"You shouldn't have done that."

"Why not? I assumed you may have wondered yourself…You probably had a better chance of knowing this possibility than all of us did."

Aunt Kim dropped her gaze.

"The decision should have been left up to Evelyn."

"And it was. She agreed."

Aunt Kim turned to Bart. "Well? Do you have anything to say for yourself?"

Bart set his empty glass on the bar cart. "I'm feeling rather tired actually."

"Tired? Am I the only one feeling wired after this?"

Bart tucked his hands in his pockets. Chuck slouched in his chair and propped one ankle on top of his knee.

"It appears that way," Chuck said.

"Always avoiding problems," Aunt Kim muttered. "Must be a family gene."

She marched toward Evelyn's room, leaving both Bass men in the penthouse. Chuck couldn't remember a time when they had this space to themselves. There was always someone lounging about from Eric, Serena, Lily, and Evelyn. They filled the room with air, and without them, it felt like they were living in a depleting balloon.

"Is this a part of the plan?" Bart finally said.

It was. It became much less valuable part of his plan now that Evelyn wasn't Jack's daughter, but it was still useful, nonetheless. It would serve as a needed distraction. When Chuck felt he would most need Jack to be distracted, this little news, manipulated or authentic, would serve that need perfectly.

"A new part."

"Hm."

Chuck sat up. His father's tone sounded like an alarm of doubt.

"Do you have a better idea?"

Bart sighed. "I don't have the time or energy to invest myself in your unyielding pursuits."

His words felt like a slap across Chuck's labors over the past few months. After all his trials, tribulations, and efforts in reclaiming Bass Industries for their family, and this is the appreciation he got?

"Keeping yourself out of prison is proving to be a lengthy task then," Chuck spat.

"That it is. Good night, Chuck."

He thought his father would be happy that someone was stepping up to reclaim their family name, proud even. But in their half-lit penthouse, a shadow covering most of his father's face, Chuck wondered if his father would ever feel any of those things.

Perhaps his efforts were for naught. If Jack boxed out his family to own Bass Industries, what could stop his father from doing the same? His father built Bass Industries from the foundation up and did whatever it took to make it succeed.

If Chuck wanted Bass Industries to stay in the family, he was going to have to protect it from his family. Perhaps it was the only way to keep the seams from tearing everyone apart completely.

Evelyn was curled up on her bed when her bedroom door squeaked open. She strangled one of her pillows to her chest, her arms creating a tight brace around the pillow. Her knees were bent close to her arms, a vacant stare blanketing her face.

"Evie? It's me."

Aunt Kim took careful steps toward her, but she didn't sit down right away. She hovered over her like she would when Evelyn was at home sick with the flu. One time, Evelyn had such a persistent fever, that Aunt Kim brought a cloth and draped it across her forehead. She wrung out the cloth and dunked it in cold water and place it across her forehead well into the night. Her fever broke the next day.

"Did Chuck put you up to this?"

"He suggested it, but I agreed."

"Did you have doubts?"

"I was beginning too."

Aunt Kim sunk into her bed and brushed her warm hand over her forehead.

"Evelyn. I need you to know something."

Evelyn's vacant gaze wavered and turned to Aunt Kim.

"It didn't matter to me who your father was then, and it doesn't matter now. I love you for you, and I always will. I don't know what you're thinking or feeling about this, but I want you to know that who your father is doesn't define where you belong."

Salty tears dripped down Evelyn's face.

"Why couldn't he just tell me?"

"Who?"

"Bart. Why couldn't he have told me any of this?"

"I think he was just trying to protect you."

"From what?"

"From knowing his faults and your mother's."

"It's a little late for that."

Aunt Kim brushed her hair in soothing strokes. "I know. There are many things that even I didn't know."

"Like what?"

"I didn't realize Bart knew about your mom and Jack. It makes a lot more sense why he is the way he is when the two closest people betrayed him like that. I don't think he could ever get close to anyone after that again."

"But he's married to Lily."

"Marriages can be a mask for any couple."

"Do you think…Uncle Jack has ever wondered?"

"Possibly, but I couldn't say for sure."

Aunt Kim wiped the tears from Evelyn's cheek.

"It's going to be okay. I know it's hard to believe that now, but I believe everything happens for a reason."

"Even if he goes to jail?"

"Even if he does. You're going to be more than okay. Don't you forget that. There are many close to you that love you and will continue to be there for you."

"I hope you're right because it feels like everyone is far away."

"They're closer than you think. It's you who might not be paying attention."

"Does Chuck getting a paternity test count as being there for me?"

"That one is a bit more dubious, but in a convoluted way…maybe."

"He's so irritating."

Aunt Kim grinned. "He's your brother."

"Lucky me."

"Sometimes we need to push each other away to find enough perspective to appreciate each other."

"Why are you defending them so much? This isn't like you."

Aunt Kim shrugged. "Maybe it is now. I've found my perspective. Soon, you will too."

Aunt Kim kissed her forehead and helped Evelyn get ready for bed as if she were a young child again. Ever since she moved to New York, she hadn't fully comprehended the strength and support her aunt had given her throughout her childhood. She didn't realize the sacrifice and unwavering trust they had in one another. She may not have been her biological mother, but she felt like more of a mom than anyone else in her life.

As Aunt Kim returned with a glass of water to put on Evelyn's bedstand, Evelyn felt her perspective start to shift. She may have left Southington to find her father, but in her father's penthouse, a skyscraper beyond the clouds in the sky, she found her mother.

She couldn't find the words to articulate any of this to Aunt Kim, not yet anyway. But when Aunt Kim clicked the door closed after wishing her a good night, Evelyn reached for the golden locket that always hung around her neck. She looked at the picture of her mother, the only picture that put a face to the mystery of the person who bore her, who left her. She unclasped the locket and left it on her bedside table.

Blair typed away at her next piece of Liz's Closets after waking before dawn. Her mind was buzzing with ideas for future articles and her pen labored to keep up. What was an initial struggle to come up with ideas now felt like a broken dam with ideas flowing through her fingertips as she typed.

Blair reread the article for the fifth time and made edits. She rephrased a sentence here, cut a word there. She read it out loud to herself to check for coherence and flow. Blair submitted the article to Liz for review and shut her computer. She checked her phone and still hadn't heard from Chuck about yesterday's plans.

"Hello?" Chuck's voice was raspy.

"Hey sleepy head. Did I wake you?"

"Yes, and not in the way that I like."

Blair rolled her eyes.

"You should have called ahead for room service, then. What happened yesterday?"

"I convinced Evelyn to take the test. We got the results back, and now she's not talking to me."

"And? Does this mean…"

"Bart is her father."

"Oh. That must be a relief."

Chuck yawned. "Relief for the rest of us, yes. For her, unclear."

"It must have been reassuring for your father too."

"Perhaps."

Blair noted the clipped tone in Chuck's voice but decided not to probe further.

"Is there anything I can do?"

"Can you check in on her? She won't talk to me. Was going to wait for her cool off."

"That might be best."

Blair looked out her window and saw the sun dawn across the horizon. "Did you think Jack was her father?"

"It seemed possible with the timeline and all."

"I wonder if Jack knows."

"He may have wondered," Chuck said. "But I doubt he cares now. I don't think he's ever spoken to Evelyn."

"Maybe that's been intentional?"

Chuck didn't say anything.

"I'll check on Evelyn. Perhaps she's interested in contacting Jack now? That could move our plan along."

"This was our backup, but I wonder if it's too soon."

"The longer she cools off, the less likely she will want anything to do with Jack. I think we need to act now."

"Alright. Make it happen, Waldorf."

As Blair showered, she wondered if Chuck was being too dismissive about Jack's interest in Evelyn. Given what she learned from the trial, surely, he wondered if he was the father. Didn't he? If Blair was Evelyn, she wondered if she would at least tell Jack the results.

On her way to campus for her earliest class of the week, Blair called Evelyn. No answer. She left a message and texted her to call her back. As lunch approached, Blair kept checking her phone. Still no answer.

If there was one thing Blair hated most it was being ignored. Blair hailed a taxi, it's yellow hood dented in three spots.

"Where to, Miss?"

"Constance Billard on the Upper East Side, please."

The view from the witness stand felt like sitting at the front of the classroom. The judge's desk was attached to the stand, and the stand faced a captive audience behind the rail that separated the public seating from the defendant and plaintiff.

For the past couple months, Bart heard the captive audience react behind him. Now, he found himself facing them, held captive.

Bart rose his hand and repeated his oath, his warm hand cooling the leather Bible. A sea of strangers watched his every move. Interpreting. Judging. Whispering.

After all these months of preparation, it was time to be tested and graded. It felt like the most significant test of his life. The room felt as hollow as an abandoned park.

"Where were you on the night of May twenty-fourth, nineteen ninety-three?"

Bart tilted the thin microphone upward and made a series of adjustments. Then, the memories started

"I was at work."

It finally stopped raining. It had been a damp yet humid spring day where the puddles evaporated just as fast as the downpours washed the dust off the sidewalks. The orange sun peaked behind the skyline, the rain finally ceasing, and Bart's shoulders relaxed.

"Mr. Bass? There's a call for you."

Bart checked the time. It was close to nine. He wasn't expecting any calls, he had no overseas investors yet although he was hopeful.

"Who is calling?"

"Mrs. Bass."

"Tell her I'll be home soon."

"She said it's urgent."

Bart waved his hand. "I just have one more thing I have to finish. She'll understand."

"Where did you work?"

"In Midtown. It was a small office on the seventh floor. Five offices and a boardroom."

"When did you leave work that evening?"

"Just after nine."

"Where did you go after work?"

"I went to a home away from home."

His first building was no more than twelve stories tall, sixty apartments in total. The brown brick was weathered under the windowsills and the cement foundation cracked in two places. It required thousands of dollars in renovations, the neighborhood was considered unsafe, but to Bart, it was home.

It was on the outskirts of Manhattan, and it's view of the Empire State Building was partially obstructed by three other buildings. But the obstruction didn't deter Bart. The view was his way into the market. It was the sight he needed to get up close.

Bart walked past the chain-linked fence and into the lobby that smelled musty and moldy. The building was empty of residents, and his footsteps echoed up the stairs. He pulled out this copy of the building's blueprints from the inside of his breast pocket and went to work.

He didn't know how much time passed, but he went in unit by unit, seeing tenant items left behind from an eye-less blue teddy bear to crinkled late payment notices, and a couple stray leather shoe with soiled laces. He didn't think about these families who were forced out of their homes. If he did, he'd have to think about his own who still lived in Astoria and refused to talk to him.

They were still renting. He now knew what it was like to own.

As Bart reached for the light switch on the second last apartment, Misty appeared at the door. Although seven months pregnant, her belly swelled no larger than a basketball.

"Misty. What are you doing here? You should be at home."

"So should you. I went to the office looking for you, and when I saw the light on in here, I knew you were here."

"Let's talk about this at home."

"No. We're going to talk about this now. Every time I try to talk to you, you're busy. It feels like I've barely even seen you for the past week, let alone year."

"I know. Just understand, that this sacrifice will be worth it. Come on. Let's go home. Wait, who's looking after Chuck?"

"Jack is, but that doesn't matter because I'm not going home."

"Can we talk about this outside?"

"No because we're talking about this now. Bart, I can't do this anymore."

"I told you this will all be over soon. Now, let's go."

Bart put his hand on her arm, but she shrugged him off.

"No because this will never be over. It's never going to be enough for you. Sure, you have this building, but what's next? Another one and another, a hotel probably. It's never going to end, and I don't want any part of it."

"Misty, be reasonable. Why do you think I'm doing this? I'm doing this for you." He put his hand on her stomach. "For our family."

"No. This is all for you. You want this life. You want the attention, the accolades, all of it."

Misty struggled to get her wedding band off her swollen finger. She pulled and tugged at the gold ring with little success. She cursed, frustrated. Her brows furrowed as the scent of smoke started to grow prominent in the room.

"What's that smell?"

Bart grabbed her wrist. "We have to go now."

"Bart. Did you do this?"

There wasn't a second to waste. Bart tugged her arm into the hallway. Misty started to cough.

"Come on."

As soon as they pushed through the back door, Misty body seized. One hand gripped her belly, the other a rusty handrail. She moaned as a sharp pain seared her.

"What's wrong?"

Misty gritted her teeth as another sharp pain overtook her.

"I-I…" Her breaths started to shutter. "I think my water just broke."

"But you still have a month?"

"Doesn't matter."

Misty groaned as another wave of pain struck her.

"We're going to the hospital. Now."

"Where was a home away from home?"

"A bar called The Lemon."

"Was it close to home, work, the building?"

"It was close to work. I'd go for a drink after work, usually get to work on relationships management there."

"Who were you meeting at The Lemon that night?"

"A business associate of mine named Russell Thorpe."

"And how far away is the Lemon from your building?"

"About fifteen minutes by car."

"Did you stop by your building on the way to the Lemon?"

Stop by meant his visit to the building was brief, which gave Bart the slightest wiggle room he needed.

"I did not stop by my building on the way."

"How long were you at The Lemon for?"

"Give or take a couple hours."

"What time of night did you leave?"

"A quarter to midnight."

"Where did you go after?"

"The hospital."

The morning passed in a haze. Each morning class came and went, where Evelyn spent her time drawing small spirals in the margins of her notebook. She had much weighing on her mind after yesterday, which seemed much more important than microorganisms or physics equations. Normally, she'd balk at the thought of missing a day of school, and dutifully play catch up, but homework seemed inconsequential.

Evelyn stacked her science textbooks in her locker and rummaged through her bag, feeling the strap not cut as deeply into her shoulder. Evelyn picked out her lunch bag, inspected the leftovers inside and wrinkled her nose.

"Hey."

The first thing Evelyn noticed was that Ozzy's his tie was slightly crooked. She made no move to correct it.

"What happened yesterday?"

"I don't want to talk about it."

Ozzy's brows furrowed. "What did your brother do?"

"Chuck is surprisingly the least culpable—for once."

"I wouldn't have guessed that after the way he coerced you yesterday."

Evelyn halted. "He didn't coerce. I agreed."

Ozzy said nothing, not wanting to accidently push a sore spot any further.

Evelyn felt the heat of his watchful gaze. "Ozzy, please. I don't need this right now."

"What are you talking about? I didn't even say anything."

"You didn't need to. I don't need you hanging over me, judging me or my family."

"That's not what I was doing—"

"I just need some space right now."

Once Evelyn was through the front gates of the school, she felt the burdens of school and everyone in it start to fall way. Until she met a familiar face who emerged from a yellow taxi.

Evelyn groaned. "Someone called for reinforcements."

Blair removed her sunglasses and leather gloves.

"Have I ever told you that I don't like being ignored?"

Evelyn crossed her arms.

"I don't have any memory of it."

"Consider this a reminder."

"Did Chuck send you to check on me?"

"Chuck doesn't send me to do anything. I assumed you of all people knew that. But he did tell me what happened yesterday."

Evelyn's eyes narrowed. "Were you in on it?"

"In on what?"

"The test."

"I was aware of it."

Evelyn sighed. "Of course, you were. Everyone knows everything about my own life but me!"

"Hey," Blair said. "That's not true. All these things that are coming to light happened before you were even born."

"That doesn't make me feel any better."

"Look, I know this is hard for you, but doesn't it help to know for sure?"

It didn't make her feel good at all that she even had to take the test in the first place.

"You may not see it now, but you'll appreciate it in time."

"We'll see."

"Have you talked to your uncle at all?"

Evelyn shook her head. She had no reason to talk to her uncle. He never reached out to her before. She gathered that Bart's relationship with him was tense and stayed away.

"I've met him in passing. That's about it."

"I'd just be curious if he ever…wondered after all these years."

Evelyn hadn't thought about it. She was so wrapped up in her own feelings that she hadn't spared a thought about how others were feeling about the situation around her, let alone her Uncle Jack.

"Anyway, I see that you want to be alone, and I respect that. But if you need anything, don't be shy." Blair tapped her phone. "I mean it. Call me."

"Thanks, Blair."

Evelyn wandered away from school, spring starting to leave puddles all over the city. She hadn't thought much about her Uncle Jack. He was a stranger to her, someone who loomed like a shadow. She'd consciously avoided the dark shadow he cast upon her whole family.

Maybe he did wonder. If he did wonder, wouldn't he have tried more? Or was it too difficult to try? She couldn't make a case either way.

Evelyn neared the curb and raised her hand in a wave to hail a taxi. Her phone buzzed with a text from Eric, another person she struggled to show her appreciation for lately, asking if she was going to attend the prom committee meeting.

Don't wait up. There's something I need to do.

Bart shifted in his seat as the questioning continued. The questions ranged from the mundane to the specific. Which hospital did he go to? Where was he when he received the call about Misty? How long did it take him to arrive at the hospital? What did he do there? When did he call Kim?

The questions were scrupulous and pointed, and Bart answered each one deftly. All the preparation leading up to his questioning was well served. He had yet to feel that question put him off kilter, and for the first time since the trial started, Bart was optimistic about his chances.

"Tell us what you did when you arrived at the hospital."

"I arrived in the emergency room with Misty. I filled out the paperwork, as they took her to the maternity ward. We had a private room, but Misty didn't stay in there long."

"How long did she stay in the room?"

"Maybe an hour, hour and a half? The doctor decided emergency surgery was necessary."

"How long did the surgery take?"

"About an hour."

"And after?"

"The doctor gave me the grave news."

Bart approached the nurse's desk. "Any updates?"

"We will let you know once we have an update, Mr. Bass."

Bart took a seat again. He already called Kim who was on her way to the city. Jack was watching Chuck. He waited for a call about his building…he was forced to do something he didn't like to do-wait.

The doctor appeared sometime later. Bart jumped to his feet and approached him.

"How did it go?"

"I'm afraid I have some bad news, Mr. Bass. Please take a seat."

As the doctor relayed the news, Bart felt as if he was watching him on mute. The information didn't compute to Bart. Words became unintelligible, the background sounds heightened, ringing.

"That's not possible."

"I'm very sorry. We did everything we could."

"Clearly not enough."

"I know this is a lot to take, but we put the health of the baby first as Mrs. Bass requested—"

"Where's the baby?"

"She's being incubated. She can't breathe on her own yet, and she will need to be observed for the next few weeks at minimum, but you're welcome to visit at any time."

"What happened after?"

"I sat there. It didn't sink in immediately. I was in a fog. I'm not sure how long I sat there, but the next thing I know, Kim arrived."

Kim's determined steps alerted Bart of her arrival at dawn.

"Where is she?"

"Kim—"

"Where is my sister, Bart? Why are you waiting out here?"

"Kim. She's gone."

"What? No…"

Kim lunged at the nurse's desk and demanded to see her sister. Bart pried her away from the startled nurse who clutched the phone to her ear.

"Kim. Let go of the nurse."

Kim pushed him away, turning her fury toward him.

"How could you let this happen?"

"I didn't—"

"Were you there when it happened?"

"I brought her to the hospital."

"Who's the doctor who did this? We're going to press charges!"

Bart had considered it himself, but he wasn't sure the viability to raising such a case.

"This can't be happening," Kim said, wrapping her arms around her middle. "Oh my God. The baby. Is the baby okay?"

"For now."

"You haven't checked?"

Kim didn't wait for an answer. She started to the NICU. Reluctantly, Bart followed.

"Did you check on the child before Kim arrived?" Eloise asked.

"I…couldn't."

"Did the nursing staff allow you entry?"

"Yes. I was allowed entry. I just…wasn't feeling well."

"So you rushed your wife to the hospital because she was in labor, but you didn't rush to see your new daughter?"

"I was in a state of shock, and if I saw her, then…"

Eloise let the silence hang in the air.

"Then it would mean that it was real. My wife. Dead."

"Can someone competent please tell me where Baby Bass is?"

Kim accosted one nurse after another, and they all pointed in different directions. In the NICU, concerned parents hovered over glass incubators. Some parents had their hands inside the armholes of the incubators, stroking the smooth heads, others held their partners close, holding each other up.

Kim located one of the few incubators at the back of the room that was unoccupied.

A nearby nurse turned to the incubator and began checking the baby.

"Is everything okay?" Bart said.

The nurse made a couple notes on the clipboard. "The baby is stable. We'll continue to check vitals over the next forty-eight hours."

Kim stepped forward and looked into the incubator. Bart followed, peaking over her shoulder. The baby was still, her head turned toward them with a tube threaded up her nose. She was small, smaller than Chuck was, her arms spread side to side, vulnerable.

Bart felt pains all over his body at the sight of her so vulnerable and weak. He had to look away to collect himself.

Kim threaded her arms through the armholes and rubbed her belly with her fingers. The baby stirred.

"Hey baby. You came a little early, didn't you?"

The baby started to move her arms, and Bart looked at Kim with alarm. Kim, almost entranced, didn't stir.

"It's okay. I know it's scary right now, but it's going to be okay. I'm going to take care of you." She paused. "We're going to take care of you."

Bart rounded the incubator and looked at his child. She had a head full of dark smooth hair. Her skin was pink and wrinkly. Every part of her was miniature, as if she could fit in the palms of his hand. He reached into the incubator and touched her arm. Then her foot. The baby's skin was soft and malleable, and he was afraid his touch could leave an irreversible imprint.

"Evelyn," Bart said with a hoarse voice.

Kim looked up; her eyes filled with tears.

"Her name is Evelyn. That's the name Misty and I agreed on."

"I like it, but it's missing something."

Her name, Bart realized then, wasn't missing something, but someone.

"Evelyn Misty Bass."

"How long did you stay in the NICU?" Eloise said, brining Bart back to the present.

"Until almost eight in the morning. Kim convinced me that I needed to eat something, so we went to get some breakfast on another floor."

"What did you eat?"

"A banana muffin."

"When did you eat?"

Eloise did this often in the trial so far. She would rephrase questions she'd already asked to see if he'd trip up and answer differently. He could smell the trap a mile away.

"Almost eight in the morning."

She asked more questions before focusing on to what he did next.

"When you finished eating, did you stay in the hospital?"

"Yes."

"Where did you go next?"

"I was on my way back to the NICU when I ran into my brother."

He first saw his brother from behind. He leaned over the nurses' counter with one hand pointing in different directions while the other hand gripped Chuck's arm. Chuck stomped his feet and twisted Jack's arm as he twirled around in circles. Chuck looked irritable and easily excitable in the way Bart had seen him act after a night of fitful sleep.

Once Chuck noticed his father, he tugged Jack until his grip loosed and raced toward Bart.

"Daddy!"

His arms were open wide, but Bart didn't bend down to embrace Chuck. His back was so rigid, that he didn't think he could bend an inch. Chuck settled for wrapping his short arms around his right leg. Bart patted his head, his coarse hand clashing over his smooth, glossy hair.

"Where is she?" Jack spat.

"Please lower your voice," Kim said.

She bent down and picked up Chuck. He kept calling for his father, for any short glimpse, touch, or sound, for attention of any kind. But Bart couldn't hear him.

"What did you do?"

Bart turned to Kim. "Can you take Chuck for a walk?" He reached into his pocket and clipped a crisp bill from his worn leather wallet. "Get him some breakfast. Whatever he wants."

Kim's brows furrowed, his lips puckered, ready to protest. "Can I bring anything back from you?"

"A coffee. Black."

Chuck watched with fascination on the green bill as it was exchanged from his father to aunt. He started to wail when Aunt Kim carried him down the hall, and she rocked him back and forth until the wails faded and eventually stopped.

"What happened?"

Bart thought it was best to be direct. Rip off the news faster than a band aid. He figured it would be easier not only for Jack to hear, but for himself to tell.

"Misty went into early labor late last night. There were some complications, she hemorrhaged too much, and died."

Although he said the words with a tart finality, it was the first time he uttered that fact out loud, and it took the air out of him.

"Died?"

Bart nodded, swallowing a lump in his throat.

He expected his brother to extend his sympathies, offer support of some kind. Instead, he felt his brother's hands grip the lapels of his suit and throw him back against the wall.

"How could you?"

The impact of sudden attack stunned Bart momentarily. He then gathered what little nerves he had left and started pushing him back. "What are you talking about? It wasn't my fault!"

"Bullshit. This happened after she said she was going to leave you, wasn't it? And you wouldn't let her!"

Bart froze. How did he know that was her intention? How did he know…

"Whatever conversations my wife and I have is none of your business."

"The hell it is!"

In a low voice, Bart replied, "Back off. Now."

"Or what? You'll hit me? I know you, Bart. You're no fighter. You're a magician. You disappear when things get hard. You disappear when it's convenient. You disappear whenever you want, wherever you want."

"Now that is bullshit."

"Who was there when you were out closing deals with investors late at night? Who was there when you didn't come home? Who was there when Chuck was sick, and Misty didn't know what to do? That's right. I was there. I was always there because you never could be bothered. You don't know how to be there for your family, and you never will."

"That's not true."

"And you're deluded too! You've been so wrapped up in Bass Industries that you had no idea…no idea what was happening to your own family. No idea that your own wife wanted to divorce you. Your own wife was going to leave you for me."

Bart didn't know how it happened. It was an instant reaction. A reflex he didn't know he had. His hands were wrapped around his brother's throat, the tips of his fingertips white.

"Stay away from my family."

Jack swung his arms until his fist cracked Bart's cheek. They fought in the hospital hallway; fought in a way they hadn't fought since they were children. Fought in a malicious way. Fought in a way to cause maximum pain to the other. They would have kept going until they were interrupted by a witness who pulled Bart off Jack.

The nurses were dialing for help, but their calls weren't needed. Three police officers strode into the waiting area casually. They approached the nurse while the Bass brothers huffed, bruises beginning to form and blood dripping down their cheeks.

The nurse pointed the officers in their direction.

"Are you Bart Bass?" The one officer asked him.

"Yes."

"You'll have to come with us. You're wanted for questioning in connection with the building fire at 24 East 10th Street."

Before the officer read his Miranda rights, he looked to the bystander.

"They were fighting officer. I don't know who instigated it."

The officer nodded and waved the other officers to escort Bart out of the hospital.

Bart turned to Jack and said in a low voice. "Stay away from my family. For good."

"You had a physical altercation with your brother at the hospital?"

"Yes."

"Who instigated the fight?"

"We both did."

"Who took physical action first?"

"I did."

"What injuries did you sustain?"

"A bloody nose. Scratches. Some bruising."

Eloise continued to cross-examine him, repeat her questions with slight differences, trying to catch him off guard. Bart held a consistent story, one that withstood Eloise's tough questioning.

"And that was the last time you spoke to your brother in person?"

"Yes."

After the third hour of questioning that afternoon, Eloise slightly bowed to the judge.

"No more questions your honor."

Chuck folded his newly printed investment portfolio under his arm and offered his hand to his financial advisor, Mr. Tevis.

"Thank you, Mr. Bass, for coming."

"The pleasure was all mine. Do send my best wishes to Maria."

"I will. Like I said, you can expect a monthly memo detailing our progress and growth but do let me know if there's a certain investment you would like to see changed."

It had been negligently long since Chuck assessed his investment. Given the state of his current plans with Bass Industries, and a wariness of his father, he knew it was time to revisit and adjust his portfolio. Moving out some of his trust fund to his own personal investments seemed like a wise choice to protect his assets.

The bank was quiet and serene. Chuck's shoes clicked against the waxy floor, the chandelier at the front foyer shimmered above. He remembered coming to the bank often with Bart when he was little. He didn't quite care for it then and opted to play with the box of toys in the kids' corner while his father attended his own investment meetings.

When he grew older, it was one of the few places Chuck could catch his father's attention through interest. All Chuck would have to do was ask anything about finance and banking, and his father would instantly know the answer. From loans to securities, bonds, to stocks, his father would try to explain everything he knew without asking if Chuck really wanted to know or was mature enough to understand. He wondered if his questions led Bart to assume it was a good idea to give him investments as a birthday present.

Just outside the bank, there was a newspaper stand where one headline about his father's trial caught his eye. Chuck knew his father was on the stand this very moment. He quickened his usual languid swagger. His forearms tightened the grip of his portfolio under his arm.

Arthur was parked a block away, the sleek black limo always dependable and in sight when needed. Chuck scrolled through his phone out of habit and

"Where to Mr. Bass?"

Just as he was about to answer, Chuck became distracted by a homeless man walking blindly through traffic. He thumped a white bucket with a silver soup ladle, shouting. The limo whizzed by him at a safe distance, but Chuck watched him continue to stagger through the street, and all the cars that halted, horns blaring.

Among the cars that were forced to stop behind them was a white van. Chuck's eyes locked onto the make and model, the same as described by Blair when she was being followed.

"Mr. Bass?"

The van started moving again. It switched lanes to line up behind the limo, a car buffering between them.

"How much gas do we have Arthur?"

"Three quarters of a tank."

"Good. Keep driving."

"Is there any particular direction you want to head towards?"

"Let's continue south. Toward lower Manhattan to start."

Arthur made a right turn. The white van did the same.

Evelyn stood at the base of Bass Industries, its tower looming large over her. She hadn't been in the building often, maybe a handful of times when she shadowed her father for a take your child to workday. It was a menacing building, all made of glass, the rotating doors churning people in and out of the building.

She marched through the front doors, nodded to the receptionist, and asked to see the CEO.

"Mr. Bass is quite busy and only takes appointments. Do you have an appointment?"

"No, but I'm family." Evelyn presented her driver's license for further proof.

The receptionist pressed her headset and dialed.

"You can go on in. Do you need me to—"

"I know the way. Thank you."

Evelyn pressed the elevator button and watched dozens of employees buzz around the building. The way up felt short, the buttons lighting up one by one until she reached the top. She squeezed the handle of her bag, and marched forward, down the hall to where another receptionist waited outside a closed door.

"Hello. I'm here to see Mr. Bass."

"You can go on in."

The double wooden doors were heavier than Evelyn remembered, but the office itself hadn't changed since Bart resided in it. The room was dark, the desk an antique.

The back of the chair faced her as Jack looked out the window. He tipped his chair back and swiveled it around. He smirked and stroked his goatee.

"I wondered when you'd come to see me."

Evelyn's grip around her bag tightened.

"Come on in. Don't be shy."

Jack stood and gestured to one of the club chairs that faced his desk. Evelyn tried to find some familiarity, something reminiscent, but she found no resemblance between Jack and Bart.

The leather seat cushion hissed as she sat down.

"I suppose I should be concerned with why you're here and not in school."

"I have a spare," Evelyn said.

Jack examined her with an expression Evelyn couldn't decipher. She couldn't decipher anything about this man who was her uncle. She felt she was in the presence of a stranger.

"So, Evelyn. What can I do for you?"

"There's something that I think you have the right to know about. I think you've been wondering about it for quite some time."

Evelyn opened her bag and felt the crinkled envelop. She smoothed out the crinkles in her lap and pushed it across his desk.

On the Upper East Side, there is no gossip without secrets, and there's no secrets without truth. But why keep secrets at all you may ask? Because not all of us can handle the truth. Especially when the truth isn't what they were hoping for.

You Know You Love Me,

XOXO Gossip Girl

A/N: And there you have it! We finally learn what happened that night all those years ago and the long standing implications from it.

What's coming up next? The next chapter is titled: Inglorious Basstards. It's a big one.

So what did you think? Let me know in a review!

Till next time,

XOXO EZ11