Dear Lies

Dear Lies,

You make me into whoever I need to be. You give me something love never did: a life I can belong to.

Whyn looked at me with her usual annoyed expression, her long auburn hair shifting in the breeze, green eyes full of the same disgust she always had when it came to my mother.

“So where’d your mom go this time?”

“I don’t know. The Caymans. Jamaica. Hawaii. Pick one.”

Her stare didn’t change. I could lie to just about anybody, but Whyn had known me since fourth grade. She knew me too well for that. Better than anyone, really. Better than my own mother.

I sighed and tipped my head back, looking up at the washed out stretch of sky above the mall. “She said Italy. A few weeks.”

That was my mother. She was always off somewhere with whatever boyfriend had her attention that month. She’d disappear for weeks, come back after it blew up, pretend to be a parent for a little while, then do it all over again when the next guy showed up.

Honestly, I preferred it that way.

A few of the men she’d brought home instead of traveling with hadn’t worked out so well for me. A couple black eyes and a broken nose had made me a pretty big fan of her taking her bad choices somewhere else.

I was fine on my own. I’d been on my own most of my life anyway. She started leaving me when I was ten, first for a few days at a time, then longer, the older I got. Now that I was seventeen, the longest stretch had been eight weeks. Technically, I’d still been sixteen then, but close enough.

I was better off without her hovering in and out of the house, pretending she was part of my life. No rules. No boundaries. No consequences. At least not parental ones. And I’d figured out a long time ago that as long as I stayed just under the line, nobody came looking too hard.

“Your mom is such a slut,” Whyn said as she hopped down from the metal railing we’d been sitting on outside the mall.

I laughed and pushed off after her. “Don’t hold back. Tell me how you really feel.”

It didn’t offend me. Mostly because she was right.

“Please. You called her that last week.”

“Yeah, well, I’m allowed to, she’s my mother.”

She snorted and headed for the glass doors. I followed her inside, where the mall was full of people moving around with bags in their hands and money to waste.

I had plenty of time. Money was the issue.

Still, that didn’t matter much. Nobody was waiting for me at home. Nobody cared when I got back. My time was mine in the fullest sense of the word. Wide open. No one checking what I filled it with. No one claiming any part of it.

It was great. Really.

“So what are we looking for again?” Whyn asked, leading us into the department store.

“I don’t know. Something small I can slip in my pocket and walk out with.”

She rolled her eyes. “You’re such a klepto. Why do you even do this?”

I shrugged. “Because I can. And why not?”

“I don’t know. Maybe because it’s called stealing.”

She tipped her head when she said it, giving the words extra attitude.

“I’m not taking anything expensive, so it’s not a big deal. It’s not like they’ll go bankrupt because I took something worth less than five bucks.”

“It’s still wrong.” She grabbed my arm and tugged me toward the jewelry section. “I can’t believe I even came with you for this. I swear I’m enabling you. Your addiction is stealing things, and mine is apparently helping you get away with it.”

Tall black and cream display towers were lined with cheap jewelry. The expensive pieces sat behind glass, locked away and watched. I never bothered with those. Too much risk for too little fun. The cheap stuff was easier.

Wyn spun one of the towers and started looking through earrings and necklaces. “What am I looking for?”

“Her favorite color’s purple. Maybe something with a purple stone. Or one of those leather bracelets.”

Whyn shot me a look. “You know if you give her this and she finds out you stole it, she’ll throw it right back in your face.”

“Keep your voice down. You want to get us caught?” I glanced around, then lowered mine. “Besides, she’s never gonna find out.”

“She will if I tell her.” Whyn grinned, one brow lifting.

“You wouldn’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’d kill you.”

“Can I help you two find anything?” The woman wore a department store badge with the name Sandy pinned to her chest. Her voice was sweet enough, but her posture gave her away. Stiff shoulders. Sharp eyes. She already thought we were trouble.

Some people were terrible at hiding what they thought.

Lucky for me, I was good at reading people. Better still, I was good at giving them something else to believe.

I smiled at her, smaller and shakier than my usual one, like I was trying not to fall apart in public.

“Yeah, actually,” I said. “My sister and I are looking for something for our mom. She was just diagnosed with breast cancer, and she’s been really down the last few days. We just...” I let my voice thin out and looked down for a second before glancing back up. “We just wanna find something to cheer her up.”

The change in Sandy was instant. Her expression softened. Her shoulders dropped. Her eyes turned sympathetic.

Lie bought.

“Oh. I’m so sorry,” she said. “Your poor mother. What kinds of things does she like?”

I gave a little shrug, keeping my face careful and sad. “Purple. She loves purple.”

“Oh, that’s a great place to start.” She brightened and motioned us toward the wall display behind the towers. “We have some beautiful pieces over here with purple stones. Some even have little ribbons instead of chains.”

She led us right where I wanted to be.

Whyn followed behind me and leaned in close enough to whisper, “You’re just plain evil.”

I kept my face solemn until Sandy turned away. “Oh wow, thanks. That helps.”

Sandy smiled at me. “I’ll give you two a minute to look. I’ll be right over there if you need anything.”

“Thanks,” I said.

Once she stepped away, I turned to Whyn, who only rolled her eyes at me.

“Hey, I had to get her off us.”

“So you told her our mother has cancer. That’s cold.”

“It worked, didn’t it?”

I let my gaze sweep over the jewelry wall and spotted it almost immediately. A silver chain with a purple dragonfly pendant. It was perfect for the girl I was trying to talk into going out with me. Or maybe bribe was the more accurate word.

Perfect.

I angled my body so I could keep Sandy in the corner of my eye while still looking like I was browsing. My left hand reached higher up the wall for a bigger, more obvious movement. That was the one people watched. The wrong hand. The distraction.

My right hand slid in low, quick and clean, lifted the necklace, and tucked it into my pocket.

Easy.

The second it disappeared, and I knew Sandy hadn’t seen it, the rush hit. Nothing else felt like that. Nothing.

I put the decoy necklace back where I found it, waited until Sandy got distracted by another customer, and nodded toward the exit. Whyn and I slipped out of the store with the pendant in my pocket and my pulse climbing.

There was something incredible about selling a lie and walking away with a prize. Nothing else came close. It cut through everything. It drowned out my mother’s note waiting on the kitchen counter that morning, written in slanted handwriting to tell me she’d be gone for a few weeks. It drowned out the question of how I was supposed to feed myself until she felt like coming back. It drowned out the truth that the house on Mercer Street was too full of furniture and our life, but still somehow felt empty the second I stepped inside it.

For a few minutes, it shut all of that up.

No one waited up for me.No one expected anything from me.No one noticed enough to care where I was, what I did, or who I became.

Freedom was the word I chose for it.

Whyn was wild. She was fun too. Her parents were actually great, and they had me over for dinner all the time whenever my mother took off. They didn’t know the truth, of course. I’d sold them a lie too.

My mother worked late nights, and I was stuck eating dinner alone most evenings. That story pulled sympathy fast and got me free meals and decent company a few nights a week.

The funniest part was that their last name was Ever. So the fact that they named their daughter Whyn told you everything you needed to know about what kind of people they were. And Whyn loved her name. She fully embraced it. Any time she had the chance to put it on display, she did it proudly. Whyn Ever.

I liked that about her. She didn’t care what anybody thought. She was confident in a way I’d never been, because her confidence was real. Mine was one of the best lies I’d ever built. She was the opposite of me. I lied. She held tight to the truth. Still, she let me have my lies and my stealing. She gave me plenty of grief for both, but she never really tried to stop me. She accepted that it was just part of who I was.

I had the charm, the style, the polish, and the lies that made me feel untouchable.

When we got back to my house, I tossed the stolen necklace onto the table. The thrill was gone by then, and for some reason, I didn’t want it on me anymore.

Whyn went straight to the fridge and opened it. A second later, she looked back at me. “Hayden, you’ve literally got nothing to eat in here.”

“Yeah, I know. She didn’t go shopping before she left.”

“So what are you gonna do for the next four, five, or six weeks, or however long Ceilia decides to abandon you this time?”

“I’ll hock something of hers and get some money.”

Her face lit up with a grin. “Oh, I like that idea. Let’s sell something she loves.”

I headed for my mother’s bedroom. Honestly, I didn’t mind selling her things when she was gone. She was the one who left me here without cash, so screw her.

“You check the closet. I’ll do the dresser and under the bed.”

I opened the top drawer and shoved clothes around. Nothing. I worked through the rest the same way and came up empty.

Then I dropped to the floor beside the bed and lifted the quilt. When I looked underneath, I caught the tiny glint of metal tucked up near the box spring. That was strange. The fabric there looked like it had been sliced open.

I reached inside and felt something hard and cool against my fingers.

A metal box. I pulled it out and sat on the edge of the bed with it in my lap.

Whyn came out of the closet holding up a leather jacket. “How about this? I think it’s real leather. That’s probably worth at least one grocery bill.”

I flipped open the lid.

Inside was a stack of checks, each one for thirty thousand dollars and signed with one of those rich guy signatures that looked like a scribble and an ego problem. The account name in the top corner said B.R. Holdings. That cleared up nothing.

I stared at them for a second, then started thumbing through. They were postdated. The next one was dated for two months from now. Another three months after that. Then, another three months later.

A pattern.

There was a check every three months. Thirty thousand dollars each. All of them made out to my mother.

What the crap?

Whyn leaned over my shoulder, and her eyes widened. “Whoa. Are those real?”

“I think so.”

“What are they for?”

“I don’t know.”

I set the checks on the bed and started digging through the rest of the box.

Whyn sat down in front of me. “Okay, I have always wondered how your mom could afford a house like this and all those fancy trips without working a single day in her life.”

I barely heard her. My head was still stuck on the checks. Who was paying her? And why?

I found an envelope addressed to my mother and pulled the letter from inside. It wasn’t handwritten. It was typed, clean, professional, almost businesslike.

For one strange second, I wondered if she had some kind of deal worked out with somebody. Then I noticed the date at the top. Seventeen years ago.

A couple of months before I was born.

I read the letter while Whyn leaned over my shoulder, following every word with me.

Ms. Ceilia Keppner,

This letter shall serve as formal confirmation of the arrangement discussed regarding the child.

I acknowledge biological paternity. That acknowledgment, however, is not to be mistaken for willingness to assume any public, private, or familial role in the boy’s life. My family is not to be informed of his existence. My wife and children will not be subjected to any disruption, intrusion, or embarrassment arising from this matter. My household, my name, and my business interests will remain entirely separate from it.

In exchange for your strict compliance with these terms, you will receive scheduled financial payments sufficient to maintain the lifestyle you have requested. Such payments are contingent upon your continued discretion and upon your agreement to raise the child without recourse to me beyond the financial arrangement established herein.

For the avoidance of doubt:

You are not to contact me except in matters directly related to the agreed financial disbursements.You are not to bring the boy to me, my home, my office, or any location connected to my family or business.You are not to disclose my paternity to any party whose knowledge of it could give rise to personal, legal, or public complications.You are not to seek from me any form of fatherly duty, acknowledgment, or future claim beyond the payments already agreed upon.

Your cooperation ensures the continuation of financial support. Any failure to adhere to the terms set forth above will constitute a breach of this agreement and may result in the immediate termination of future payments, as well as a demand for repayment of any prior financial support issued under this arrangement.

This arrangement is intended to preserve order, privacy, and finality.

Boyd Rivers

“What the Godzilla balls?” Whyn said, standing so fast the bed bounced.

Usually, I would’ve laughed at one of her weird comments. This time, I was too busy feeling like I’d just been punched straight through the middle.

I scanned the letter again. The child. That was all I was in it. No name. No claim. Just the child. Clean, cold, and easy to keep at a distance. And now there was a value stamped on me too. A hundred and twenty thousand dollars a year. To a billionaire, that was basically pocket lint.

“Boyd Rivers is my father,” I said, staring at the name at the bottom of the letter like maybe if I looked at it long enough, it would turn into someone else’s.

“That’s unbelievable.” Whyn snatched up one of the checks and stared at it. “B.R. Holdings. I thought your mom told you your dad was some drunk truck driver, not a billionaire real estate king.”

I kept staring at the name.

Yeah, my mother had always told me my father was a loser. A drunk. A man we were supposedly better off without.

She lied to me.

Okay, sure, maybe that made me sound like a hypocrite, considering I’d lied to her more times than I could count, but this felt different. Cruel. This wasn’t some throwaway lie told to dodge a fight or get out of a question. This was the kind of lie you built a whole life on.

But Boyd Rivers was dead. I looked at the checks again and realized there were plenty left, enough to carry on well past my eighteenth birthday. Which meant if Boyd was in the ground, somebody in his family was still keeping the money flowing to make sure I stayed buried too.

I shoved off the bed and hurried to my room, with Whyn right behind me. I dropped into my desk chair, yanked the keyboard closer, and typed Boyd Rivers into Google.

Before I even hit enter, the search bar started tossing up suggestions.

Boyd Rivers net worthBoyd Rivers kidsBoyd Rivers sonBoyd Rivers daughterBoyd Rivers wifeBoyd Rivers lawsuitBoyd Rivers childrenBoyd Rivers death

I just sat there for a second, staring at the list.

I clicked on Boyd Rivers’ death first.

He’d died two years ago from a heart attack. Since then, his wife and oldest son had been running Rivers Development Group.

I actually remembered when he died. It had been all over the news. Every channel in Texas acting like a king had fallen instead of some rich guy with too many buildings and not enough arteries left.

I sat there staring at the screen.

He was dead.

That meant my mother’s little arrangement with him ended in the ground with the rest of him. No more neat private deal. No more living man to hide behind.

And if Boyd Rivers’ family still wanted to keep me out of the picture, they might be willing to offer more. I just needed to know where to press.

I went back and clicked on Boyd Rivers’ children.

The AI Overview popped up first.

Boyd Rivers was a Texas real estate magnate, founder and CEO of Rivers Development Group, he was married to Annie Rivers in 1993, and together they have four children: Roman Bryce Rivers, born 1998; Belize Rivers, born 2000; London Rivers, born 2003; and Dakota Rivers, born 2007.

I read it once. Then again. Every kid had one of those names that sounded expensive, polished, and way too pleased with itself. And they had a theme. How adorable.

I did the math without even trying. Numbers were easy. The fact that those numbers belonged to my half siblings was not.

Bryce was twenty eight.Belize was twenty six.London was twenty three.Dakota was nineteen.

“No way,” Whyn said quietly behind me.

“Yeah,” I said. “Looks like my mother didn’t get knocked up by some washed-up truck driver. She got knocked up by Texas real estate royalty.”

I clicked on Boyd Rivers’ net worth next, because my greed was growing.

The number that came up made me laugh.

$3.4 Billion

Wyn leaned closer. “That can’t be real.”

“Oh, I’m sure it is,” I said. “Pretty sure people don’t accidentally become that rich. You have to be born evil or work really hard at it.”

I clicked back and stared at the family photos lining the page.

Boyd Rivers in expensive suits and that polished rich guy smile. Annie Rivers, beside him looking perfect enough to make normal people feel underdressed through the screen. Their kids looked clean, expensive, and impossible, as rich families always did, like even their problems had better lighting.

And all I could think was that I had lived in the same city as them my whole life. Same streets. Same skyline. Same air. He’d been right here.

I swallowed and leaned back in the chair. “That’s insane.”

“That’s your word?” Whyn asked. “Insane?”

I clicked through another article, then another. Charity gala shots. Business interviews. Lawsuits. Expansion plans. The kind of polished public life people built when they had money, power, and enough people around them to make sure their dirt stayed buried.

Then more family photos.

Boyd, Annie, and four kids.

Four.

No awkward fifth child standing off to the side. No mention of a scandal. No whisper that I existed. A hot, ugly twist started low in my stomach.

“He really did it,” I said quietly.

Whyn looked at me. “Did what?”

I kept staring at the screen. “He built this whole life and just cut me out of it.”

I hit the back button until I got back to the page listing his kids’ names. I stared at them for a second, then typed in Dakota Rivers and hit enter.

Several articles popped up about the youngest Rivers’ son and his impressive academic record, because apparently, even the rich ones came with bullet points. He was at Texas A&M, getting a business degree, though the article mentioned his real passion was journalism. Business was just the practical choice, which I was pretty sure was rich people’s code for the one that makes the money.

A&M, how convenient. Right here in my backyard.

I hit print on an article that practically worshipped Dakota Rivers for being smart, polished, and very expensive.

“What are you doing?” Whyn asked, and this time she sounded a little uneasy.

“I’m gonna get to know one of my brothers.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m not staying in the shadows anymore.” I grabbed the article from the printer and looked down at Dakota’s face. “And the easiest way in is through the youngest.”

Whyn’s expression tightened.

“He’s my mark,” I said through a wicked grin.