Chapter 3 Naive

Julius's car is a brand-new luxury vehicle gifted to him by their parents for his nineteenth birthday. The interior is lined with smooth leather and rich scents, enveloping Jenny the moment the door clicks shut. Despite the laughter and chatter spilling from the school courtyard, where Julius and Richard might be engaged in a heated argument, she hears none of it through the thick walls of metal and glass.

Through the windshield, Jenny watches as Julius strides confidently toward the driver's side, the tails of his blazer flowing behind him. His jaw is set in a determined line, exuding an air of certainty. It's not surprising; he knows that everyone at this school fears their family's influence and would think twice before crossing him. She recalls a time when Julius spat on the headmaster's polished leather shoes, and the headmaster had apologized to him, letting him leave school early.

As he passes in front of the car, Julius runs a single finger along the hood. For a moment, Jenny thinks he might slide across it, but he stops short, likely to avoid scratching the pristine surface. When he finally opens the door, the aroma of leather polish and curated silence floods out onto the school lawn, and he settles into the driver's seat. His cologne wafts through the air—a subtle yet expensive scent that a girl had gifted him when he was fourteen. He has insisted on the same vintage bottle ever since, having the staff reorder it whenever he runs low.

Jenny stares straight ahead as he presses the button to start the engine. His thigh strains against the fabric of his school pants as he pushes down on the brake. The engine purrs to life, and the dashboard lights blink once before settling into a soft red glow. With flawless precision, Julius maneuvers the car out from between the vehicles of their protective team, despite the fact that they should be driving between them.

Out of the corner of her eye, Jenny catches a glimpse of Richard sliding into the passenger seat of one of the other sleek black cars. The headlights flash on as they pull out behind them, a signal of exasperation.

"He's too friendly with you," Julius states coldly, his voice cutting through the silence and startling her. She quickly shifts her gaze from the rearview mirror to her tightly clenched hands resting in her lap. She can feel his eyes lingering on her, and she squeezes her hands tighter, willing them to still the tremor she can't quite control.

When she blinks, the horrifying image of Kevin's body collapsing, with Julius's bloody palm dripping onto the marble floor, floods her mind, accompanied by the sickly scent of spearmint breath against her cheek.

If Julius is unsettled by her silence, he shows no signs of it. He drums his fingers on the steering wheel and tilts his head to smile at her, his mousy brown hair spilling over his forehead. Normally, he uses gel to keep it styled and out of his eyes, but the earlier altercation with Kevin must have dislodged it.

"I fear Richard has ill intentions toward you, sister," Julius asserts, letting his gaze linger on her a moment too long. Jenny forces herself to focus on the road ahead, hoping to alert him quickly enough to avoid a dangerous crash. "I can see how he's been looking at you—ungentlemanly."

Jenny struggles to maintain a calm expression. She and Julius both know who truly harbors ill intentions—toward her and everyone she loves—but Julius expects her to play along with his twisted game.

"Richard has protected this family for more than ten years," she asserts, glancing at him from the corner of her eye. Instead of erupting in anger as she might have anticipated, Julius merely smiles.

"Oh, Jenny, you're so naïve," he replies, amusement dancing in his eyes. "It never crossed your mind that the people closest to you could be the ones to hurt you the most, did it?"

"Richard is my best friend," she counters, pulling her gaze from the road to meet his, finally recognizing a glint of violence in his eyes. Julius presses down on the gas, and the car accelerates, weaving recklessly between the other vehicles on the highway.

Fear churns in her chest, and she wishes she could close her eyes, grip the dashboard, or curl into herself to feel safe. Yet she refuses to give Julius the satisfaction of seeing her panic. Instead, she braces her hands against the dash to steady herself and injects steel into her voice.

"You don't have the right to treat him like he's nothing, Julius," she states, trying to mirror his boldness and stubbornness. "Richard is like family to us!"

"I'll have him fired," Julius laughs as they swerve around a bus, nearly grazing one of its mirrors. Any other teenager driving so recklessly would be pulled over by the police, but those in this area know better than to interfere with the Drehers.

"What is your problem, Julius?" Jenny demands, her voice trembling with frustration. "You know Richard! He's the most loyal person I've ever known. He would never do anything to put me in a dangerous situation, and you know it!"

"You're so blind, little girl," he retorts, sounding pleased that she is engaging in his twisted game. "Richard wants to sleep with you, and Kevin wanted to sleep with you, too. It's almost so obvious I'm starting to think you like it. Are you encouraging them, little sister? Do you enjoy it when men desire you?"

Jenny avoids his gaze, feeling a surge of anxiety as his knuckles turn white on the steering wheel, the leather creaking under the pressure. They glide up the winding path to their family estate, tall trees enveloping them and isolating them from the outside world. Her stomach churns violently, the venom and rancor in his voice contaminating the air around them.

"Richard isn't like that!" she nearly screams, twisting in her seat to confront him. Her shirt shifts over her thighs, forcing her to tug it down. "Has it ever crossed your mind, Julius, that you're the only one thinking such disgusting things about—"

Before she can finish, the back of Julius's hand connects with her cheekbone, sending a jolt of pain shooting through her face from her ear to her eye. Instinctively, she recoils, a sob escaping her as she slides away to the other side of the seat. The cool glass of the window presses against her back, chilling her through her blazer and collared shirt. The seatbelt constricts around her neck, and she fumbles with the buckle, desperate to escape the escalating tension.