"I can't imagine growing up in a place like this," Ruby said. "I'd probably get lost all the time."
After buzzing the main gate and being admitted entrance, the two women were now walking up the brick driveway that led to the manor. It wrapped around a large, opulent fountain placed at its midpoint and was flanked by well-trimmed hedges. On the other side of those were rows of trees planted throughout fields of luscious, green grass.
The manor itself was impressive enough that you could see it even from the street, despite the fence and the distance between them. It stood four stories tall and was almost half the length of a city block. It consisted mainly of marble, along with a handful of other pale-colored materials. Intricate pillars acted as supports all along the exterior and rows of windows covered the walls. Everything about the property was just so grandiose, immaculate, and . . . utterly shallow. It was like a gold-plated dog house—made to impress everyone except those it actually sheltered.
Weiss's grandfather had built it with the aim of comfortably housing multiple generations at once as well as all the staff needed to accommodate them. But then he died and "Jacques Schnee" became the only name on the deed. Weiss's father hadn't waited long before beginning renovations—he added extensions, a personal golf course that he never used, doubled the size of the pool, and added a bunch of other unnecessary bells and whistles. He'd married into this family, so he'd put in extra effort to make sure everyone knew just how high his status truly was.
"I hardly ever visited most of it," Weiss said. "I never would've bothered learning the entire premises if it wasn't proper for me to always be ready to give guests a tour."
"Will you give me a tour?" Ruby asked.
"We don't have time for that. The sooner we get back, the less likely it is that anyone notices we left."
"Oh, right." Ruby's disappointment failed to impede her childlike wonder. "How big was your room?"
"Larger than your apartment."
"Whoah."
Ruby continued asking questions until they reached the end of the path. Weiss half-listened, answering on autopilot as she thought about her own questions she wanted answered. Whitley awaited them at the door and greeted them both without commenting on the fact that Weiss had brought a guest to what he had most likely intended to be a one-on-one meeting.
The interior was completely empty, which was a stark contrast to Weiss's memories of the place. When she had lived here, there'd been suits of armor, rugs, vases, candles, and other gaudy decorations. Someone had come in and cleaned out anything and everything that hadn't been nailed down. The emptiness somehow gave it more life—like a blank canvas, ready for some other dysfunctional rich family to move into and paint with bad memories.
"Come upstairs." Whitley led the way up the wide staircase directly opposite the front door.
Ruby was still noticeably impressed walking through the interior, despite the lack of any decor—it didn't seem like she'd ever seen such a high ceiling or broad corridors.
Weiss quickly realized where they were going. Whitley led them down her least favorite hallway and, sure enough, stopped right outside what used to be their father's office.
"Really?" Weiss said. "You couldn't have picked any of the other million rooms in this place?"
"It was a matter of convenience." Whitley entered a code into the electronic lock, and a clicking sound came from the door. "The new owner didn't remove everything."
"The new owner? Meaning that isn't you?"
He opened the door without answering her and held it open for Weiss. "Your associate can wait out here while we converse. It won't take too long."
"My name's Ruby," said Ruby, seizing what she evidently saw as the first opportunity to introduce herself.
"A pleasure," was all he had to say in response before turning his attention back to Weiss. "Shall we?"
"I suppose we shall." Weiss gave Ruby an apologetic look and then entered—she felt there was a good chance that the girl was already back to fiddling with the Skeleton Key by the time the door closed.
Truth be told, Weiss hadn't been inside her father's office too many times; he'd valued his privacy. Even still, she could tell that the room had been left entirely untouched all this time. Perhaps Whitley had been the first to get past the lock, due to either having learned the code from their father or having the skills to hack it open.
Behind the desk was a large painting of Jacques Schnee himself in his younger years. On top of the desk were a few candles as well as an open laptop that didn't belong—it was probably Whitley's. A chandelier hung from above and two shelves took up the entirety of the side walls, filled with books: cultural classics, expensive first editions, biographies of influential people, business manuals, etc. Scattered among them were plaques, statuettes, other baubles, and photographs of Willow, Weiss, and Whitley. Winter's picture was absent since it was no secret that she'd been disowned, but the others had to stay so to maintain the illusion that Jacques Schnee actually cared about his family.
"Have a seat." Whitley went behind the desk and began rifling through the drawers.
"You couldn't have at least taken the painting down?" Weiss said as she sat across from him.
"Hardly worth the effort." Whitley withdrew a few spare documents and placed them on the desk. "But if it makes you feel better." He swung the painting forward on its hinges so they wouldn't have to endure their father's gaze before finally sitting down himself. Weiss wondered whether the safe that had been concealed behind it was empty.
"I needed a temporary place to stay and work out of," said Whitley, "and one of my new friends happened to have procured the deed to this place and allowed me to use it. No use furnishing a new office in a different room when this one works perfectly fine and I'm not staying long, besides."
"Your 'new friends'?" Weiss said.
"Business partners, investors, whatever you'd like to call them. I haven't just been seeing the world this past year, I've been networking—proving to powerful people that I'm just as valuable as Father was at his prime, but without his obvious downsides."
Weiss gave a humorless laugh. "And they believed you? No one would want anything to do with a Schnee after what happened with Father."
"Is that why you dyed your hair?"
Her silence was as clear an answer as any.
"While you chose to forsake our heritage," said Whitley, "I sought to reclaim it. I never said it would be easy, nor quick, but I've made great progress."
"Progress towards what exactly? What are these business partners of yours investing in?"
"The STC, of course."
"The— What?" Weiss said in disbelief. "Are you insane?"
"I don't believe so, but who am I to say? Aren't you supposed to be the expert in such matters?"
"Who would ever buy an STC product again? People hated the corporation even before everything fell apart, and even more so now, not to mention that whole malfunctioning devices disaster."
"I aim to restore the company that Grandfather started, not the one Father turned it into. Some rebranding is inevitable, of course. I'll do away with the data mining, I'll treat workers a lot better and encourage them to unionize, and I won't be exploiting labor from third-world countries. With the right measures and some patience, I can rebuild the goodwill that was lost."
"I doubt you'll be reconquering the economy with that strategy."
"Who said that was my goal? I have no delusions of becoming the CEO of the number one technology corporation anymore—that was Father's vision for me. All I want is to lead a successful business that would make Grandfather proud, and to prove to the world that Father's legacy does not represent us all."
Weiss supposed it made sense. The day she'd dropped out of business school to pursue her psych degree, the CEO's seat had become Whitley's destiny, whereas before he'd merely aimed to be CTO. It wasn't altogether surprising that he still yearned for some approximation of that power. In all honesty, Weiss could see herself working toward the exact same goal in another reality where she hadn't been born a paragon.
"If that's true, then I wish you luck," Weiss said, and she meant it.
"Thank you," said Whitley.
"You'll have to deal with Father eventually, though. His sentence ends in three years. He won't just remain idle."
Something on Whitley's screen caught his eye. His brow furrowed, but he simply closed the laptop and then acted as if nothing had happened. "Sooner, most likely. He'll be out on good behavior—of Father's many faults, a tendency toward violence has never been one of them."
The ghost of a sting upon Weiss's cheek argued otherwise, but she chose not to disclose that detail.
"I'll have lawyers, friends, and resources," Whitley continued. "He'll have none of that. I'll be prepared."
"I hope you're right. Now, what did you need from me? You can't be expecting me to want to partner with you on this."
"Of course not, you're underqualified. All I need from you—" he slid one of the documents toward her "—is a signature."
"What is this?" Weiss picked it up and began to read.
"As you're well aware, every shareholder within the STC who escaped the same fate as Father scrambled to salvage as much as they could from the company before dissolving it, fighting amongst each other for the most valuable assets. I managed to acquire a handful myself—namely several of Grandfather's designs and patents. The only reason I was able to do this without any kickback is that they're the legal property of the Schnee family, rather than just Father in particular."
Weiss was only half-listening to him, too busy going over what he wanted her to sign. She didn't fully understand what she was seeing, but she wasn't too happy with it. "You want me to sign over everything our family has left to you?"
"Try not to overreact," Whitley started, then continued to speak over her predictable scoff. "I don't want everything. Grandfather's sword, mother's jewelry, family heirlooms, et cetera—all of that will remain in storage where it belongs, which you will retain access to. All I'm asking for is that you relinquish your claim to the aforementioned assets that form the very foundation upon which I'm building my business."
"That's all? Just one of those designs is probably worth hundreds of millions of lien alone. That seems like a fair trade for a hard drive," she said sarcastically.
"Understand that if you don't sign this, you still won't have any ability to take these away from me nor to do anything with them yourself. All it'll do is give you grounds upon which to contest my sole ownership in court, a case which you'd lose."
"Then what's even the point of this?" Weiss wasn't sure why she was upset, in all honesty. She didn't care about those assets. She'd never do anything with them if she had the chance to, let alone sue her own brother over them. She had no interest in starting her own business and was too prideful to sell them. Doing so would be giving her grandfather's legacy over to some stranger.
"This is merely a formality," said Whitley. "Winter renounced her rights to family property years ago, Father was stripped away from his, and Mother . . . That just leaves you and me. My partners don't wish to move forward while you still present a liability. In the unlikely event that you did decide you wanted to fight me for the only thing currently giving my proposed company value, it could be a costly and potentially lengthy process that we'd rather avoid, regardless of the inevitable outcome"
"I think I understand," said Weiss, her suspicions of ill-intent ebbing away. She still felt like his motivations were too pure, but none of this was uncharacteristic of him nor did it harm her in any way, but she couldn't shake the feeling he was hiding something more. "I'll still need to read this."
"Feel free. Do note that the family lawyer is the one who wrote this for me, and they represent all our best interests. Pay special attention to paragraph five. I'm offering you and Winter both shares in my company, should either of you choose to accept them."
Weiss was taken aback by this. "Really?"
"Of course. You're family."
"Even Winter?" Weiss said dubiously.
"Do you accept or not?"
"I . . . I never asked for your help."
"Nor did I imply you needed it. This is just what Mother and Grandfather would have wanted. It wouldn't be fair of me to rebuild what Father took from us and leave you with nothing. They'll be yours to hold or sell as you please, once the company actually exists, of course."
Weiss was still hesitant. "Is this why you answered?"
"I beg your pardon?"
"You'd been ignoring me for a year. Every time I tried to call you, you never picked up."
"To be fair, you gave up fairly quickly."
Weiss pretended not to hear him. "And then all of a sudden you texted me after I got attacked, and you actually answered your scroll when I called you a couple of weeks ago. Is this why? You wanted to soften me up because you already had something you needed from me?"
Whitley, for once, didn't have an immediate response. "I . . . won't pretend that wasn't a factor. But I had time to reflect while I was away, and I came to accept that we—that is to say, you, me, and Winter, as well as our relationships with each other—are products of our environment. We all had to cope with our upbringing in our own ways, even if it put us in conflict with one another. It's time to move past that and start fresh. Father destroyed our family, but that doesn't mean we can't now mend it."
He sounded genuine enough, and his words resonated with Weiss. She'd found herself thinking the same things at times but, if she was being honest, had been too cowardly to take the first step.
"Does that mean you've been in touch with her?" she asked. "With Winter, I mean?"
"I have," said Whitley. "We've reached a common ground."
"That's good to hear. You know she never hated you back, right? She didn't want to be at odds with you. But you chose Father over her, over the both of us."
"I'm aware. This is a conversation I've already had."
An awkward silence hung in the air. Weiss took the opportunity to continue reading the form. She wasn't exactly well-versed in the technicalities and intricacies of legal matters, so she could have easily overlooked something sneaky written in there, but it all looked reasonable to her. Hoping she wouldn't later regret it, she decided her brother deserved the benefit of the doubt and put her signature at the bottom of the page.
"Thank you," said Whitley. "Eventually, when we have the time and are not as busy, we'll need to meet with a notary public to authenticate this, but for now, this will satisfy."
"Of course." Weiss stood. "If that's all, then I should be going. I don't want to keep Ruby waiting."
"No, you shouldn't," Whitley agreed. He crossed around to the other side of the desk and offered her his hand. Weiss felt a brief impulse to hug him, but they weren't quite there yet, so she shook it and turned toward the door.
"You have an interesting taste in friends," Whitley said.
Weiss paused. "What does that mean?"
"First the cofounder of a terrorist organization, then the scraggly, blonde vigilante. You seem to choose the ones worth the most trouble. What kind does this one get you into, I wonder?"
He was as astute as ever.
"She has a good heart," Weiss said. "They all do."
Whitley said nothing, and so she left. All in all, she felt relieved. She'd expected this meeting to go a lot less amicably.
Once outside the office, it was clear to Weiss that something had happened, as Ruby's eyes were wide and she looked like she was bursting to tell her something.
"What—?" Weiss started.
"Are we leaving?" Ruby blurted out.
"Yes, but—"
"Then let's go." Ruby cast a glance at the closed door and then set off at a quick pace.
Weiss had to hurry to keep up with her and was getting concerned. "What's gotten into you?"
"I got it to work," Ruby said in a low voice, but for some reason didn't sound too excited.
"What?"
"The Skeleton Key! I figured it out! Invalid search. You have to set a radius for it to search for compatible electronics before it can do anything. I found the right command, and it showed a sort of map. I was able to see three different scrolls, the lock to the door, and I think I hacked into your brother's computer."
"You what?"
"It was protected, I couldn't access much. But I found a video. He must have had it open on his desktop or something. I downloaded it onto my scroll. I'll show it to you once we're outside."
"What? No! I don't want to see my brother's personal videos. What were you even doing watching it?"
"I didn't mean to! But you said he was acting fishy, and it was right there! I couldn't help myself. But you're really going to want to see it. It's prison security footage."
Weiss tried to stop, but Ruby grabbed her arm and pulled her along.
"Ruby, slow down!" Weiss said, almost tripping over her own feet. "What do you mean it's prison security footage? Of what?"
Ruby didn't answer her, instead keeping them moving along until they were out of the manor, and even then only slowing down to a reasonable pace once they'd passed the fountain. Then she took one last look back at the mansion before pulling out her scroll, pushing play on a video of what looked like an interrogation room. In it, the shortest of the Ace Operatives stood across from where a heavily-tattooed man in a jumpsuit sat handcuffed to a table.
"You already know what I'm going to ask. Do I have to go through the trouble or are you going to make this process easier on the both of us and spill your guts now?" Harriet Bree asked.
The inmate shrugged, appearing thoroughly dejected. "The longer this takes, the less time I spend in solitary."
"Fair enough. Why did you attempt to murder Jacques Schnee?"
"I got a call. Someone on the outside promised they'd get me out if I killed him."
"Elaborate. How did you 'get a call'? On what phone?"
"The wall phones. I went to call my mom, but someone called me first before I could put in her number."
"Those phones are outbound only and we don't have any record of this call taking place."
He threw his hands up. "That's what happened."
"When did this occur?"
"About a week ago."
"Who was this person you spoke with?"
"I don't know. It was some dude. He never told me his name. He said to just listen and not say anything, and then told me I'd find a knife hidden in one of the supply boxes down in maintenance where I work. He said to wait for more instructions, and then use it to kill Schnee. If I did that, he'd break me out of here."
"When did you receive these further instructions?"
"I didn't."
"What do you mean, 'you didn't'? If you didn't get your orders, then why are we here right now?"
"I saw a chance and I took it. Me and Schnee were alone in a hallway, there were no guards, and I had the knife in my boot. So I stabbed him . . . right when a door opened and that CO caught me."
"You're aware that every inch of this facility is under surveillance, right? You'd have still gotten caught even if they hadn't walked in on you, but Jacques Schnee might not have survived, which would have only served to worsen your punishment."
The inmate didn't say anything.
"Whoever contacted you appears to have put a lot of thought into this plan," said Harriet. "They were patient. Why were you in such a hurry that you recklessly acted before getting their say-so?"
"I was fine with waiting, but I was getting nervous. The longer it took, the more likely I was to get caught with the knife. And I was hoping if I killed him sooner, I'd get out sooner. I knew the Vytal Festival would be a good opportunity to smuggle my way out of the country, but it didn't seem like it'd be going down before then."
"And now you're still stuck in here, going off to the Little Sister to spend time in solitary confinement with an extended sentence."
He sighed. "Seems that way."
"What else can you tell me about this man?"
"I don't know nothing about him."
"You didn't recognize his voice at all? He didn't say anything that could clue you in as to how he knew you?"
"He didn't sound like anyone I ever knew or would know. He sounded pretty full of himself, and he had kind of that 'rich person' accent, you know? And he never said anything other than what I just told you."
"If you don't know this person, then why did you put so much trust in him?"
"He got a knife in here, didn't he? That's like the holy grail around here. People would do anything for so much as a porno mag, but y'all crack down anytime someone even mentions the word 'contraband'. If this dude can get a knife in, then it's worth a shot that he can get me out, right?"
"You'd take another man's life for just a chance at freedom?"
"Sounds like a damn good deal to me. I did a lot more for a lot less before I landed myself in here."
"Of course you did. Now, is there anything else you'd like to mention?"
"No, ma'am."
"Then I think we're done here."
The video ended there, and along with it the contentment Weiss had felt after the unexpectedly cordial meeting she'd just had with her brother. This video had been on his computer. It was undeniable proof that there was some sort of mastermind scheming from the shadows, and yet he'd gone on about "happenstance" and not being concerned by any of this. Just when all her suspicions had been alleviated, they'd come back tenfold.
Weiss pivoted on her heel and began marching straight back up to the manor, but Ruby quickly teleported in front of her.
"Wait!" the girl said. "Do you really want to confront him right now? He's going to want to know how you found out about this and he'll know what I did!"
"He doesn't have to know. And so what if he did? He hacked into a federal facility. It'd serve him right to get hacked back! He could get double Father's sentence for that alone." Weiss attempted to go around her, but Ruby continued blocking her path.
"Maybe he didn't see this video until after you met earlier?"
"In just a few hours? No. Also, he already knew it was another inmate who carried out the attack when I'd never heard anything of the sort. This must be how. Now would you please move?"
"No, just think for a second! He could have a perfectly valid reason for having that video on his laptop—"
Weiss opened her mouth to protest, but she didn't get the chance.
"Or he could not," Ruby pressed on. "But since we don't know for sure yet, now's not the time to do something reckless—especially not when we need to be getting back to Amity before anyone notices we're gone. Let's not show our hand while we still can't see his."
It was the irony of Ruby telling her not to do anything reckless that made Weiss stop and reconsider.
"Maybe you're right," she said.
Ruby blinked. "I am?"
Weiss shot her a look.
"I mean, of course I am! It's just . . . I didn't think that would work. I'm not used to being on this side of things."
"You're right about the hand thing. I need to find out exactly what he's up to before I confront him. You didn't see anything else while you had access to his computer?"
"No. Like I said, it was pretty well-protected. I don't think I would've been able to even see this video if he didn't already have it open. But I was able to see the file path when I copied it over to my scroll. He had it saved in a folder called 'Wrath of Partridge'."
"Wrath of . . . Partridge? What does that even mean?"
Ruby shrugged.
"Nevermind. Let's just worry about it once we're back at Amity."
"So we're leaving?"
"Yes. The sooner we're away from this place, the happier I'll be."
A/N: Credit to my beta readers: I Write Big and Bardothren. They're great writers who are a huge help with making this story as good as it can be.
Unfortunately, due to matters in their personal life that have limited the amount of free time they can dedicate to beta reading and writing, 0neWhoWanders had decided to step down as a beta reader for this story. I'm immensely grateful for the feedback and advice they've given me up until this point and, just like my remaining two betas, they played a big part in helping me get this story to where it is today. So here's one last thank you to 0neWhoWanders. I'm sorry that this story has to continue without you.