Sylvia’s whole body went rigid, disbelief turning into nausea. "You—you bastard."

He stepped forward just a fraction, lowering his hands but keeping his tone smooth. "You asked me to fix things, remember?"

"Don’t," she hissed, shaking her head furiously. "Don’t twist this on me."

"I’m not twisting anything." His eyes glittered. "You wanted him. I told you I could make it happen if you did one little favor—help me bridge the gap between Sharona and Winn. You agreed. I kept my end of the deal, sweetheart."

"You killed her."

"I didn’t kill her myself," Tom replied mildly, crossing to the drinks cabinet. He poured himself a glass of whiskey with a steady hand. "I simply arranged circumstances."

Sylvia’s stomach twisted. "How evil can you be?" she whispered, tears spilling freely now.

He turned, glass in hand, and smiled faintly. "Evil? That’s such a harsh word. I prefer efficient. You wanted something, I delivered. Joey is single again, isn’t he? All you have to do now is swoop in."

"By murdering his wife?!"

"Keep your voice down, sweetheart. We wouldn’t want anyone knowing we planned this together now, would we?"

Her breath hitched—pure horror. "We?"

"You think the police will believe I did this all by myself, without motive? You, on the other hand..." He set his glass down with a soft clink. "You had one, didn’t you? Jealousy. Love. All it takes is a few messages, a few phone calls traced back to your number—my people can make sure of that."

Her eyes widened. "You wouldn’t."

"Oh, I would." He smiled faintly. "You see, I never lie, Sylvia. I just make sure the truth works in my favor."

Sylvia’s vision blurred as her finger tightened on the trigger. Her pulse hammered in her ears.

"Honey, our secrets are safe with each other," he said. His smile was a serpent’s—measured, deadly, persuasive. "We both are the true Kanes. I have got you, you have got me. Your mother is an Orchard. I have no idea who the hell Winn’s father is. We have to look out for each other, sweetheart. It’s us against the world, always has been."

"Stop it," she said softly. "Stop pretending you care."

"Sweetheart, power, money, reputation—those things don’t fall from the sky. They’re taken. Protected. That’s what I’ve been teaching you."

Sylvia’s hand shook violently now. Her chest heaved with short, ragged breaths. "You have put blood on my hands." Her throat burned as the tears finally spilled over. "I can’t live with that. I can’t live with me." Then she turned the gun on herself, aiming at her head.

Tom took a careful step forward. "Sweetie, sweetie...hang on. Think about what you’re doing. Think about how much this will hurt your mother, your brother, me."

Sylvia’s laugh came out hollow. "You’re worried about yourself even now," she said. "You always are." She pushed the barrel harder to her temple. The cold steel bit into her skin, and her finger twitched against the trigger. "You did this, Daddy. You turned me into you."

Tom’s nostrils flared, the faintest ripple of panic beneath his mask. "Don’t say that."

"It’s true," Sylvia went on, tears falling freely now. "Every time I think I can take a step forward, you yank me backwards. You feed on my weakness, on everyone’s weakness." Her breath hitched, and her lower lip trembled. "I am just as selfish as you. And Winn—Winn is lucky to not have you as his father."

That one landed. Tom’s eyes darkened, the sting of insult cutting through even his arrogance.

"Just turn the gun away, love," he said, reaching out slightly. "Please. We can talk about this. We can fix this. You and me—always you and me."

Sylvia blinked through the tears, her gaze steadying on him at last. "You don’t even hear yourself, do you?"

Tom took another step. "Put the gun down, Syl."

"Answer me this," Sylvia demanded. "Where is Ivy?" The gun stayed pressed to her temple, her knuckles white, her breathing shallow. Her hair stuck to her damp face, tears smearing her makeup until she looked half feral, half childlike.

Tom’s heart skipped a beat. "Baby, honestly, I have no idea. I swear to you, love. I swear on everything dear to me, I have no idea. Baby, please put the gun down. Point it back at me — back at me, baby. Shoot me if you want to. If it makes you feel better, just don’t point it at yourself."

Sylvia’s grip tightened, her eyes wild with tears. "This is not a coincidence, Dad! Ivy doesn’t show up for the wedding. Diane is killed. The two are linked and you know it!" She was shaking so hard the barrel quivered against her temple.

"You always know everything, Dad. You make everything happen. So don’t you dare stand there and pretend you’re innocent now!"

Tom swallowed hard, his mask slipping for a split second. "Syl—"

The door burst open just then, and Anna’s sharp voice sliced through the tension. "What in the name—?! Sylvia? Baby, what are you doing?" She froze in the doorway, hand over her chest.

"Why did you marry him?" Sylvia shrieked. "Why, for God’s sakes? Why? All the men in the world, you chose this slimy old bastard! He’s poison, Mother! Everything he touches, he destroys — and you stood by him!"

Anna’s eyes darted to Tom, who stood frozen, jaw tight. "Tom..." she whispered. "What did you do?"

Tom didn’t answer her. He stepped forward instead. "Honey," he said to Sylvia. "I promise you, everything will be alright."

Sylvia barked a bitter laugh through her tears. "Alright? Diane’s dead! Ivy’s missing! How could anything ever be alright again?"

"Sweetheart," he coaxed, inching closer. "Who do you think is going to take care of your brother right now if you do this? Winn needs you. His heart is broken again." He gestured toward the gun trembling against her temple. "You weren’t there for him the last time, remember? Shouldn’t you think about him for once?"