By the time we got home, it was an evening. Too late to do something else, and too early to go to bed, so just like last time, we all got out of our formal, elegant outfits first, and then we met in the living room.

I breathed a sigh of relief when I finally shed my dress, which was very nice and quite comfortable, although it couldn't equal the casual sweats. As usual, I tied my hair in a ponytail and went downstairs, prompted by the rustle of a packet of chips being opened from there. I didn't eat much because I was too stressed before my speech, and afterward I lost my appetite because of meeting Adrien.

I glanced briefly in the mirror at my breasts, now covered under a baggy black and red T-shirt that wasn't even mine. I must have snatched it from someone else's pile as I'd taken my laundry. It's true, I didn't have huge balloons, but first, I was as thin as a rail and these were apparently the charms of my figure, and secondly, what the hell! The worst thing is that I wouldn't even think of complexes on this subject if it wasn't for the damn society I was stuck in. Half my brothers were slobbering over busty chicks, and now I heard Adrien's comment directed at me, straightly criticizing me. Adrien is lame, but my psyche was not strong enough to bear the burden of such malice without at least a slight harm.

I shook my head as if I was trying to rid myself of these unnecessary thoughts. As I passed Sonny without saying a word, I just wondered if he also was crazy about it and if, for example, he was also quietly judging me.

The world is screwed up, really.

My humor was improved by the cards that I had already read in the car, and now I took a look at them for a second time. It seemed that a lot of people cheered on me and wished me success at work, and that was my driving force. I even ignored Dylan's remark that I was going to be a loser working for free. He didn't understand that there was more to it.

After the cards, I started with the packages. One of them was quite fancifully wrapped, and the other three were more elegant. I saved the former for last, assuming it was from Ruby.

Will snarled at the twins who teased me for opening the rest of the gifts on my behalf. We just sat on the couches together, Vince was concentrating on his phone all the time. The lamps were lit, creating a pleasant, slightly sleepy, but also calm and homely atmosphere. There was a program on tv that hardly anyone had even glimpsed at. The boys were munching on snacks and drinking beer, which was what they always did on Saturday evenings when they didn't go out to any party and stayed home.

"How beautiful!" I exclaimed in delight at the sight of silver earrings with dangling diamonds, which were lying on a velvet pillow in a box with the logo of an exclusive jewelry store.

I was still wearing my dad's tiny gold earrings and I wasn't going to take them off, but anyway, it was fun to slowly expand my jewelry collection.

"Quite nice," Will muttered when I handed him the box. He was commenting on the silver hallmark and information on a little piece of paper attached to one of the earrings I had zero knowledge about.

"Nothing special," Dylan shrugged, leaning over me to also look at them. He was sitting next to me and he was annoying me even with his breathing. "If you're nice to me, I'll buy you something prettier."

"I don't want to," I hissed as I started on the next package.

"Then no."

This one was elongated and black, and there turned out to be a fine pen inside. One that a teenager shouldn't have because it isn't the kind of accessories that can be kept in a school pencil case. Anyway, I couldn't imagine writing a test with this. Pacts with the devil are signed with such a pen. Alternatively, it might have fitted as an accessory on the desk in Vincent's office, though I was sure he already had at least ten of them.

"Cool, Hailie, now you have something to write in your diary with!" Dylan exclaimed, mocking a little squeaky girl's tone.

"You're stupid," I sighed and grabbed another packet, then adding "I don't have a diary"

"Every unmerry teenager has a diary."

"I'm not unmerry."

The third box contained a perfume, quite interestingly packed, entwined with a beautiful, golden ribbon. The bottle was very small but interesting. Completely black, matte, quite heavy, with a vintage pump. I've never had a perfume with a pump. I've never had a good, expensive perfume at all, especially a fancy one. I never thought to ask for one, and besides, in this house, I usually soaked in the strong scents of men's perfumes that crisscrossed here in every single room.

I immediately craned my neck and my eyes fell on Vincent, who shot me a brief, passing glance over his phone. I grabbed this pump, feeling like a real lady. And then Vince looked back at me again, as if alerted. In a split second, I saw his eyes literally fill with fear.

"Stop!" he shouted, and I froze because I don't think I'd ever in my life heard Vince raising his voice.

Then I felt Will knock the perfume out of my hand with one hard blow. I hissed in pain because my fingers were also hit and they immediately started to burn me mercilessly, so I pulled them to my chest. With scared eyes that filled with tears, I glanced questioningly at all my brothers.

Shane, Tony, and Dylan stared at Will, dumbfounded, not knowing what was going on either. Then everyone's attention was caught by Vincent, who walked over to the flacon lying now on the ground. It was intact, still lying on our carpet, intriguing.

"What the hell?" Dylan asked, frowning.

Vince stared at it for a moment as if he were studying its appearance, then looked around only to find a piece of cloth to lift it through. He took a jacket, that was Shane's who after our return started to undress his suit in the living room and didn't clean up after himself.

Our eldest brother picked up the bottle carefully, examined it long and thoroughly, weighed it for a moment in his hand, and finally, with stiff fingers, he pressed the vintage pump, pointing its opening towards the carpet. The pump groaned softly and instead of a delicately-scented mist, a few really thick drops were spat out of the bottle, which immediately fell on the carpet and burned into it, hissing. First, the liquid was foaming, and after a few seconds, it left holes where it was sprayed on.

I didn't even register that I sprang to my feet (everyone was already standing) or the loud scream that escaped me. I covered my mouth with my hands. Maybe because I felt so sick that I expected to throw up at any moment. I also started trembling, literally shaking like I was having some kind of attack.

Strong hands grabbed my wrists and took my palms away from my face. They belonged to Dylan, who jerked me toward him with a hard pull, then tilted my jaw up to examine my neck. He even ran his fingertips over it. His inspection was literally as long as the blink of an eye. I didn't know what was happening. I was slowly realizing what was in the bottle and it was becoming more and more difficult to catch my breath. Dylan locked me in his arms, tilting my head back first, then resting his chin on the top of it, squeezing me very tightly, which didn't make much difference to me because I was choking anyway.

I heard my brothers' voices. Everyone was saying something, chaos reigned. Their voices fused together. Someone was yelling, someone else was cursing. I hid my face in Dylan's broad chest just to cut myself off from it all. I couldn't concentrate, much less keep cool.

I don't know how much time later someone started repeating sweet nothings in a calm voice to my ear. I didn't hear it at first, but then gradually I gripped it like a drowning man grips a life belt. Slowly, slowly, it managed to drag me ashore from this sea of ​​drama that almost ate me up.

It was Will, of course, standing behind my back, one hand on my shoulder and the other, after a while I felt stroking my hair.

"Let her go, let her sit."

"Sit her there,"

"Take away these boxes. Fuck, just threw them on the floor."

In a moment I was seated back on the couch. I felt dizzy, so I squeezed my eyes shut. Suddenly, I felt Dylan's arms, which were wrapped tightly around me like a tourniquet, begin to relax. He sat down with me, but now he tried to starve me of his support, which my body categorically disagreed with, and even clearly protested because I dug my claws into his T-shirt, not caring that I was probably scratching his skin in the process.

Dylan hissed, but he didn't abandon the gentleness with which he was now dealing with me.

Now I felt both hands on my shoulders. They belonged to Will. And then his lips, kissing my temple. And he started whispering in my ear again.

"Now, Hailie, you're okay. You are safe, it's fine," he purred, bending over backward to get me out of this panic attack, or whatever it was. I exhaled air a few more times, shaking like a leaf in the wind. Dylan grabbed my wrists and very subtly pulled them off a little, at least so that I wouldn't hurt him.

"You sure? She hasn't spilled on herself that shit?"

"No, I checked. She's fine."

"She just got scared," Will explained quietly to them, then tried to help me control my breathing by saying the same things to me that I had heard back in Vegas when he was calming Maya. I must admit that as soon as I managed to get myself together enough not to ignore his words, and to take them to my heart and follow his instructions, I began to regain control over myself.

I realized that I was hugging Dylan like a sweet-hungry teddy bear hugging a keg of honey. I stared with puffy eyes at the wet stain I'd made on his shirt. Oh, I inconspicuously moved away from him a bit. I rubbed my sticky cheeks with the back of my hand, which I barely raised. It was as if I had big heavy metal rings pressed on each of my fingers. I sniffed but then I immediately felt my nose's contents slide down my throat and I coughed, wanting to clear it. Someone immediately handed me something like ten tangled, wide pieces of paper towel in which I immediately buried my face.

I returned to reality at a snail's pace. I dried my tears, though my cheeks were still kind of disgustingly damp, rubbed my eyes, which were going to stay red until morning. I blew my nose, then crumpled all that used paper and tried to take a deep breath, finally shyly looking around until my eyes fell on that deadly flacon that I'd been so delighted with just moments ago. It was placed in the center of the coffee table, and all other items on it were pushed away from it as if it even emitted harmful radiation. I shuddered at the sight and wanted to ask about it, but forgot how to use my voice.

I was still sitting close to Dylan. Will just got up and took his hands off my shoulders, then took the ball of paper from me to throw it away and put on my lap a whole roll of a new one, just in case I needed more. Tony and Shane hadn't rested yet, just standing there around and looking at me, the perfume, and muttering something between themselves, Dylan and Will, rubbing their heads, sometimes shaking them in disbelief, as if they thought they were dreaming.

Vincent, on the other hand, was in the living room, with us, but he was standing behind the couch next to the glass exit to the terrace, talking to someone on the phone. His face was pale, features taut, and his eyes sharp as daggers. I've never, ever seen him this angry.

"... check the hotel's monitoring, I want to know what cars were parked nearby, who was entering and exiting it. I want to know everything..." he said stiffly to the speaker.

"Did I hit you hard?" Will asked, drawing my attention back to him. He disappeared somewhere for a moment and now he has come back to us again. He approached me and leaned in, then brushed my hands with the greatest possible delicacy. "I'm sorry."

I just shook my head and wanted to tell him that I was okay and that he shouldn't worry, but these were too many words for my state.

"What was that?" Shane asked, glancing uncertainly at the bottle.

"Some poison or crap or something..." Dylan growled.

"Acid," Will answered through gritted teeth, all tense.

I shivered.

"Fuck, but look, it even burned into the floor..." Tony remarked, looking speechless as he bent over the holes in the carpet.

I glanced that way, but only out of the corner of my eye, too scared. Until I raised my hand and touched the smooth skin on my neck myself. If I had splashed this stuff on me, I would've died in agony. I would have died.

"Don't touch it," the stern voice of Vincent said. He'd already hung up and approached us. "Yuri will be here soon to take fingerprints from the bottle and examine its contents."

"Someone who did this couldn't be such an idiot to leave fingerprints," Dylan interjected.

Vince stared at him.

"We'll see."

Then he glanced at me, and I lowered my head, not ready to engage in any form of communication with him. But I had no choice because he came closer to me and, looking down at me, began to ask me a series of questions. I knew he was worried like everyone else, but he did it in Vince's style, so he covered his emotions phenomenally with learned professionalism and focused primarily on solving this tragic puzzle.

Unfortunately, I was unable to give him satisfactory answers that would help him in his investigation. For example, when asked who I spoke to at a party, my answer was: everyone.

"And Adrien Santan? He appeared there for a moment," Will said softly, looking up, from the couch, at Vincent, who was standing above us.

"Fuck, no. Tell me it's a joke," Dylan hissed just above my ear. I was still touching him, so now that I had calmed down, I could feel his chest vibrate every time he said something. It seemed as if my mean brother would have been ready to go and find Adrien right now if I hadn't been stuck to him like glue.

"Easy, Dylan," Vincent warned him and gave him a pointed look, conveying the gravity of the situation. "We have no evidence of that."

"She threw a knife at him and he wanted revenge, isn't it logical?" Tony broke in, spreading his hands as if that interpretation was the most obvious in the world.

"No," Vince snapped, and I could almost see the intensity of the thought processes that were just going on in his head. "Actually, it's extremely illogical."

Will nodded, also thoughtful.

"Yeah. Adrien is cynical, malicious, but his actions aren't thoughtless. Hailie threw a knife at him because he provoked her with a sharp tongue, but she didn't do it to threaten him because of his position. We cleared it up with him. He knows our sister is unaware of many things. He had no grudge..."

"He said so, but who the fuck knows what he thought," Shane interrupted him.

"Exactly," Dylan agreed.

"I'm not saying it's impossible that Adrien is behind it, just that it's unlikely. I know him, I know his way of thinking. Something isn't right here," Vince muttered.

"Maybe he came with an elaborate plan? You never know. Especially with such people. Adrien fits in the puzzle because Hailie's hurt him directly. Who else would take so much trouble to hurt from all of us exactly her?" Will speculated.

There was silence for a moment, and on the tv, the man whose car had just been pimped began to crazily yell with happiness. We all grimaced at the sudden, unnecessary noise.

"Turn it down," Vincent said dismissively. He was now leaning on the wide coffee table, minding not to nudge my killer gift. The words were directed to Tony, who had the remote control next to his hand. The twins were already laid to rest: Tony on the perpendicular couch and Shane behind him was leaning on its back. My oldest brother was now almost perfectly in front of me. "Hailie, what exactly did Adrien say to you?"

Okay, focus, Hailie, be useful.

I thought about it but sighed as I realized that I had nothing helpful to say.

"He said some stupid things, nothing specific," I shrugged, not even caring about the fact that I press my cheek against Dylan's shoulder as I was stared at by everyone here.

"Are you sure? Think about it, little one. He didn't say anything? No hints?" Will asked gently.

"No... He said I was rude and reminded me of, you know, what happened in the restaurant," I mumbled, "then you joined us and that was it."

I suppose the ground would swallow me up if I were to repeat Adrien's remark about my breasts now. I didn't think it would help in our little investigation, so I kept it quiet on purpose to spare myself the shame.

Vince shook his head to himself.

"That can't be it," he whispered.

"Maybe it's the Freak Charles?" Shane asked. Every now and then he gave me uncertainly concerned looks, which was extremely cute, and I'd probably have smiled sweetly at him, if not for the gloomy mood that probably attacked all of us.

"It doesn't make sense either," Vince muttered, rubbing his chin lightly.

"It doesn't have to! What the fuck, Vince, they're ignorant dumbasses, you know it!" Dylan finally roared, but so that he refrained from making any sudden gestures so I didn't have to pull away from him. He was still holding me with one hand as well.

"You have to stop thinking of them as idiots. Don't underestimate them so much. They are specific, I agree. Both Charles and Adrien. But they're not complete fools. They lead some of the largest organized groups, they have a ton of businesses, they are educated. We have to treat them as opponents on the level. Explain to me why they would want to kill our sister? And still in such a cruel way? What would it be for? Nobody troubled them, especially Hailie. Yes, she did hurt Adrien, but we cleared it out with him. Do you really think he would want revenge so badly? And for what? And Charles? He barks a lot, has dumb ideas, but also has his boundaries. Far-set, but boundaries. Besides, we work together, he wouldn't risk losing our common interests. If any of them had hurt Hailie, killed her, a war would've broken out, and war serves no one. Therefore, I am asking, where is the point?" Vincent spoke loudly and clearly, directing his speech mainly to Dylan and occasionally glancing at the twins as well.

There was a moment of silence again. I was playing with my hands. I had a hard time hearing about how I had barely escaped death and, to quote Vince, such a cruel one. I knew they were talking about it in front of me only because the situation was too fresh and surprising for my brothers to have time to discuss it in private.

"Maybe they're hoping we have nothing on them? Without evidence, there will be no war," Will asked.

Vince's phone rang and our oldest brother left the room. I think someone has come. Will followed right behind, making sure no one would leave me alone. Dylan looked at him almost indignantly, tightening his arm around my back even tighter.