Chapter 41: "Crushes, Connections, and Other Terrible Investments"
In which Talia develops an inconvenient little crush, Sofia decides Evan Mercer has become suspiciously interesting, and wealthy families continue treating human relationships like investment portfolios.
Talia's mornings were usually quiet.
Not peaceful.
Quiet.
There was a difference.
Peaceful meant you enjoyed the silence.
Quiet meant your house was enormous, most of the rooms were empty, and everybody technically related to you was usually somewhere else.
Talia stepped out of the shower and wrapped a towel around herself, squeezing water from her blonde hair.
Her bathroom was bigger than some apartments.
Marble counters.
Heated floors.
A shower with enough settings to qualify as engineering.
Everything expensive.
Everything perfect.
Everything strangely impersonal.
She dressed quickly.
Nothing dramatic.
Talia liked looking good, obviously, but she wasn't the type to spend forty minutes debating between two nearly identical shades of lipstick.
That sounded exhausting.
She checked her phone.
Three messages.
One from Sofia.
One from a school group chat.
One advertisement she definitely did not remember subscribing to.
Nothing from either parent.
Not surprising.
She headed downstairs.
Breakfast had already been laid out.
Eggs.
Toast.
Sausages.
Fruit.
Orange juice.
Enough food for a family.
Talia sat alone.
Again.
A housekeeper wished her good morning before disappearing into the kitchen.
"Morning."
Her voice echoed slightly through the dining room.
Her father was overseas.
Again.
Singapore.
Maybe Dubai.
She honestly wasn't sure anymore.
He traveled constantly for business.
Hotels.
Meetings.
Investments.
Factories.
Acquisitions.
New markets.
His face appeared in business magazines often enough that random investors probably knew more about his weekly schedule than his own daughter.
When Talia was younger, she'd tracked his flights.
Counted the days until he came home.
Then eventually she'd learned something important.
Being physically present did not necessarily mean being there.
Her father could sit ten feet away while answering emails, taking calls, reviewing documents, and making decisions about things worth more money than Talia could properly imagine.
There was always something urgent.
Something important.
Something that apparently could not wait.
So eventually?
She stopped waiting too.
Her mother was different.
Not warmer.
Just different.
Her parents' marriage had never been particularly romantic.
Even Talia knew that.
Her mother had brought connections, financial intelligence and business experience.
Her father had brought wealth, expansion and opportunity.
On paper?
Excellent combination.
Which was apparently how adults sometimes decided marriage worked.
Her mother now ran a successful marketing and accounting firm and approached scheduling the way generals approached military campaigns.
Talia had inherited plenty from her.
The blonde hair.
The looks.
The quick mind.
The ability to read a room.
Hopefully not the tendency to treat every relationship like a strategic partnership.
She took a sip of juice.
Her phone buzzed.
SOFIA: Pick you up in 20?
Talia replied.
TALIA: sure
Then stared at the screen.
Her thumb drifted toward another conversation.
Evan Mercer.
She stopped.
"Oh, come on."
The dining room offered no advice.
She hadn't messaged him since the party.
There wasn't really a reason to.
Except maybe:
Hey. Thanks again for making sure I didn't get murdered by a supernatural DJ.
Reasonable.
Or:
Congratulations on beating Derek and causing half the school to rethink reality.
Also reasonable.
Or:
Why did you suddenly get attractive?
Absolutely not.
Talia locked her phone.
Then unlocked it again.
"This is stupid."
Because apparently...
she had developed a small crush on Evan Mercer.
Not love.
Not some dramatic:
We were destined across lifetimes.
Nothing like that.
Just enough interest to be annoying.
Enough that she noticed when he walked into a room.
Enough that she'd started wondering what he was doing when he wasn't around.
Enough that when he smiled at her, she sometimes remembered it later.
Which was deeply inconvenient.
Because this was Evan Mercer.
The guy who used to trip over his own backpack.
The guy Derek Holt had treated like a recreational punching bag.
The boy who once looked like he wanted the floor to swallow him every time somebody popular spoke to him.
Except...
that Evan seemed to have vanished.
Or maybe he'd always been there underneath everything else.
It was difficult to tell.
His transformation had been fast.
That was what made it so noticeable.
At first she thought he'd simply started exercising.
Teenage boys did that.
One summer they looked like coat hangers.
Three months later they discovered protein and returned with shoulders.
But Evan's change wasn't just physical.
His posture changed.
That was probably the biggest thing.
He used to shrink.
Not literally.
But his body language always made him look smaller.
Shoulders forward.
Eyes away.
Like he'd already accepted that whoever he was talking to mattered more.
Now?
He stood straight.
Looked people in the eye.
Spoke without stumbling over every sentence.
Didn't immediately retreat when someone challenged him.
Then his clothes improved.
Nothing flashy.
Just fitted shirts.
Better jeans.
Things that actually suited his increasingly athletic build.
Then came the motorcycle.
The strange confidence.
The unexplained fighting skill.
The party.
That memory still came in pieces.
Music.
Heat.
Something wrong.
A man.
Fear.
Then Evan.
Holding her.
Getting her out.
She didn't remember the entire fight.
But she remembered enough.
He'd risked himself for her.
And afterward?
He hadn't turned it into a performance.
No:
You owe me.
No public bragging.
No dramatic hero routine.
Just a message checking whether she was okay.
That mattered more than she expected.
Then he challenged Derek.
And won.
Talia leaned back.
That part had been insane.
Derek was Derek.
Everybody knew what he could do.
Watching Evan stand across from him without shrinking had been strange enough.
Watching him win?
That had changed something.
Not in a:
I am hopelessly in love now
way.
More like:
Okay. Who exactly are you?
Which might've been worse.
Mystery was dangerous.
Especially when the mystery had nice eyes.
Talia sighed.
"Derek was simpler."
Her old interest in Derek had made sense.
Handsome.
Athletic.
Popular.
Easy.
Predictable.
Exactly the sort of person everybody expected her to notice.
Evan had somehow become interesting without asking permission.
That was the problem.
And apparently Sofia had noticed too.
Not romantically.
Talia knew her too well for that.
Sofia wasn't staring at Evan because she wanted him.
She was watching him because Sofia hated things she couldn't explain.
And Evan Mercer had become one giant unanswered question.
Quiet loser.
Then suddenly athletic.
Then confident.
Then beating Derek.
Then showing signs that something much bigger was happening around his family.
Of course Sofia was interested.
Everybody with a functioning brain should have been.
Talia stabbed a piece of egg.
Still...
she wasn't entirely sure why the idea of Sofia paying too much attention bothered her.
Probably because she didn't want her tiny, stupid crush becoming school entertainment.
That was all.
Obviously.
She picked up her phone again.
Started typing.
TALIA: Hey Evan—
Stopped.
Deleted it.
"Nope."
She grabbed her bag.
"School first."
Minor emotional inconvenience later.
Responsible.
Probably.
------------------------
Across town, Sofia Reyes was discovering that breakfast with family could somehow be worse than breakfast alone.
Her older brother had summoned her to his study.
Summoned.
Not invited.
The distinction was exactly why she entered already irritated.
He sat behind a dark wooden desk wearing a perfectly tailored suit despite the fact that it wasn't even eight in the morning.
Sofia sometimes wondered if he slept in one.
He looked up from his tablet.
"Sofia."
She stayed standing.
"You wanted something?"
A faint smile.
Polite.
Controlled.
Just condescending enough to be irritating.
"Sit."
"I can stand."
"Sofia."
She sat.
Not because he'd won.
Because arguing would make the conversation longer.
Her brother put the tablet down.
He was handsome.
Smart.
Educated.
Competent.
The kind of man older relatives pointed toward at family dinners and said:
"That's what responsibility looks like."
Sofia had heard that sentence in one form or another for most of her life.
Her brother attended meetings.
He sat beside their father during negotiations.
He knew the investments.
The expansion plans.
The political contacts.
Sofia?
She got dresses.
Jewelry.
Parties.
Money.
Anything material she asked for.
People called that freedom.
Sometimes it felt more like a beautifully decorated cage.
Her brother folded his hands.
"I've been hearing about Evan Mercer."
Sofia's expression barely changed.
"Everybody has."
"His circumstances are becoming interesting."
That wording caught her attention.
Interesting.
Yes.
That was exactly the word.
Not attractive.
Not desirable.
Not romantic.
Interesting.
Because Evan's changes made no sense.
Too fast.
Too complete.
His confidence.
His body.
His combat ability.
His family's increasingly visible connection to supernatural incidents.
Something was happening.
And Sofia hated not knowing what.
Her brother continued.
"The Mercer family is becoming increasingly important."
"They've always been important in ghost research."
"More than that."
He tapped the tablet.
"Paranormal Department connections."
"Proprietary weapons."
"Security technology."
"Government access."
"Growing public relevance."
Sofia crossed one leg over the other.
"And?"
"They possess something families like ours generally don't."
"What?"
"Direct protection."
That made her pause.
Her brother leaned back.
"Wealth is valuable."
"Political relationships are valuable."
"Business holdings are valuable."
"But if supernatural threats continue increasing, a family that can physically protect its interests becomes strategically important."
Sofia understood immediately.
She didn't like that she understood.
Her family could hire lawyers.
Security.
Consultants.
Politicians who answered calls.
None of those people could stop something from walking through a wall.
The Mercers could at least try.
Her brother watched her.
"A close relationship with their family would be useful."
Sofia's expression flattened.
"There it is."
"What?"
"The part where you turn me into networking."
He frowned.
"I didn't say that."
"You were about to."
A pause.
He didn't deny it quickly enough.
Sofia laughed without humor.
"Go ahead."
Her brother remained calm.
"Evan Mercer once had a strong interest in you."
"Past tense."
"Exactly."
He studied her.
"It may be worth repairing the relationship."
Sofia stared.
"You think I should date him."
"I didn't say that."
"You were thinking it."
"I said relationship."
His tone stayed measured.
"Friendship would be sufficient."
"And if more developed naturally, I wouldn't object."
There it was.
Clean language wrapped around something ugly.
Not:
Do you like him?
Because she didn't.
Not:
Is he a good person?
Not even:
You treated him badly and perhaps should apologize.
Just positioning.
Connections.
Influence.
Sofia tilted her head.
"Do you even hear yourself?"
Her brother sighed.
"This is how families like ours survive."
"No."
"This is how people like you make sure everybody else serves a purpose."
His eyes sharpened.
"So you've suddenly become idealistic?"
"No."
Sofia smiled slightly.
"I've become observant."
That answer actually made him pause.
Good.
He continued.
"There's also Mara."
Sofia's annoyance increased.
"What about her?"
"You've spent years being unnecessarily antagonistic toward her."
"She started plenty of it."
"I don't care who started school arguments."
Of course he didn't.
"Mara's family matters."
Sofia already knew.
Everybody in their social circles knew.
Mara's family wasn't newly wealthy.
They weren't flashy investors trying to announce themselves.
Old wealth.
Land.
Farms.
Business stakes.
Generational holdings.
The sort of family that had enough money to stop needing people to notice it.
Her brother continued.
"They own substantial agricultural property and maintain stakes in multiple companies."
"I know."
"Then act like it."
His tone sharpened.
"You don't need to like her."
"I don't."
"Good."
That answer came too quickly.
Sofia almost smiled.
"But cease turning your rivalry into unnecessary friction."
"Especially now that she's closely connected to Evan."
There it was.
Not romance.
Strategy.
Her brother saw relationships like roads on a map.
Block one road?
Use another.
Sofia hated it.
She also understood it.
Which somehow made it worse.
"At minimum," he said, "stop fighting with Mara."
Sofia sighed.
"Fine."
"And if you can restore a civil relationship with Evan—"
"I'll decide that myself."
Her brother's eyebrow rose.
Sofia met his gaze.
Something about this conversation felt familiar.
Painfully familiar.
Then she realized why.
That day at school.
Asterion speaking through Evan.
Calling her shallow.
Pointing out how little she actually controlled.
At the time, she'd hated every word.
Mostly because some of it had hit too close.
Sofia had always believed she had power.
At Ravencrest?
She did.
People watched her.
Copied her.
Wanted invitations.
Wanted approval.
Wanted attention.
Then she started paying attention to the world outside school.
And realized how small that power really was.
Her brother had access to family strategy.
Her father trained him.
Prepared him.
Trusted him with businesses.
Sofia got expensive things.
She'd always treated that as winning.
Now?
She wasn't so sure.
There was a pattern among women in families like theirs.
Pretty.
Educated enough.
Socially trained.
Then eventually married into another useful family.
Sometimes they became powerful in their own right.
Often they didn't.
Sometimes they became elegant additions to somebody else's life.
Trophy wife was considered an insulting phrase.
That didn't make the outcome imaginary.
Sofia's fingers tightened.
That was why Evan's insult had hurt.
Not because she cared what Evan thought of her.
She barely cared what most people thought of her.
It hurt because he'd forced her to notice something.
She had spent years winning the wrong game.
So she'd started changing.
Quietly.
Attending meetings when she could.
Learning about their businesses.
Learning which people actually made things function.
Managers.
Lawyers.
Assistants.
Junior executives.
Political aides.
People her brother sometimes dismissed because they weren't important yet.
Sofia had started remembering names.
Building relationships.
Her relationships.
Not because she suddenly became noble.
Because she refused to remain decorative.
Her brother continued.
"Evan is potentially useful."
Sofia's expression changed.
"Don't call him that."
He stopped.
"What?"
"Useful."
She looked at him.
"He isn't equipment."
Her brother watched her for a moment.
Then smiled faintly.
"Interesting."
"Don't start."
"I didn't say anything."
"You were about to."
He stood.
"I have a meeting."
"Of course."
"Think about what I said."
"I will."
"And Mara?"
Sofia sighed.
"I'll stop escalating things."
"Good."
"That doesn't mean we're becoming friends."
"I didn't ask you to."
He moved toward the door.
Then paused.
"And Evan?"
Sofia frowned.
"What about him?"
"If you can understand what changed with him, do."
That...
was the first thing he'd said all morning that actually matched what she wanted.
Because yes.
She wanted to understand Evan.
Not date him.
Understand him.
A few weeks ago he had been predictable.
Now nothing about him was.
His training progress was absurd.
His personality had shifted.
His family seemed increasingly connected to things happening around Havenbrook.
And Sofia hated unexplained variables.
"I was already planning to."
Her brother smiled.
"Good."
He left.
The door shut.
Sofia stared after him.
Then rolled her eyes.
"Idiot."
Not because he was wrong about the Mercers.
He wasn't.
That was the annoying part.
The Mercers were becoming more important.
Mara's family was worth avoiding a pointless feud with.
Building relationships mattered.
All true.
But her brother had made the same mistake he always made.
He assumed everyone else's motives would eventually become his motives.
Sofia wasn't interested in Evan because the Mercers had weapons.
And she wasn't interested because she'd suddenly developed some hidden crush.
She was interested because Evan Mercer had changed too much, too quickly, and she wanted to know why.
That was all.
For now.
She stood and crossed toward the mirror beside the bookshelf.
Perfect hair.
Perfect clothes.
Perfect makeup.
For years, that had been enough.
At school?
More than enough.
She'd dominated a social system she now realized was embarrassingly small.
"If everyone wants to play games..."
She looked at herself.
"...fine."
But she'd play her own.
Learn the businesses.
Understand politics.
Build allies.
Make herself useful because of what she could do, not because somebody could marry her to the right surname.
And Evan?
Evan was a mystery.
She liked mysteries.
Especially when solving them gave her an advantage.
Her phone buzzed.
TALIA: outside in 2
Sofia grabbed her bag.
At least Talia was straightforward.
Mostly.
Probably.
Talia's car waited outside.
Sofia climbed in.
Talia looked over.
"Wow."
"What?"
"You have your murder face."
"I don't have a murder face."
"You absolutely do."
Sofia fastened her seat belt.
"My brother wanted to discuss Evan."
Talia's expression changed.
Small.
Fast.
But Sofia noticed.
"What about Evan?"
Too casual.
Sofia leaned back.
"Apparently his family is strategically important."
Talia grimaced.
"That's gross."
"Yes."
"And your brother wants you to..."
She made a vague hand gesture.
"Get close to him?"
"Essentially."
Talia frowned.
"Are you going to?"
Sofia looked at her.
"Romantically?"
Talia shrugged far too quickly.
"I didn't say that."
"No."
Sofia looked out the window.
"I don't like Evan."
Talia relaxed.
Barely.
Again.
Interesting.
Sofia continued.
"But I am interested."
Talia's head turned.
Sofia almost laughed.
"In what happened to him."
"Oh."
There was definite relief in that one.
Sofia looked at her.
Now she was curious for an entirely different reason.
"Evan changes his entire personality in weeks."
She counted on her fingers.
"Suddenly gets athletic."
"Learned to fight."
"Gets involved in supernatural incidents."
"His family's technology becomes more relevant."
"He beats Derek."
She lowered her hand.
"You don't find that suspicious?"
Talia thought.
"Interesting."
"Exactly."
A short silence.
Then Sofia looked at her more carefully.
"Talia."
"What?"
"Do you like Evan?"
Talia froze.
Not dramatically.
Just enough.
Sofia knew immediately.
"Oh."
Talia looked out the window.
"It's not a big thing."
Sofia's mouth curved.
"I didn't say it was."
"I just..."
Talia made a frustrated gesture.
"He's interesting now."
"Interesting."
"Shut up."
"And attractive?"
Talia sighed.
"A little."
"That sounds medically serious."
"It's a small crush."
Sofia laughed.
Talia glared at her.
"Small."
"I believe you."
"You don't sound like you believe me."
"I do."
And Sofia actually did.
Talia wasn't in love.
She wasn't planning their wedding.
She had simply noticed Evan.
A lot.
Which was completely understandable.
Half of Ravencrest had noticed him.
Talia just had a few extra reasons.
He'd saved her.
Checked on her afterward.
Then transformed from awkward background student into someone impossible to ignore.
Of course she was curious.
Of course there was a little attraction.
Sofia rested her head against the seat.
"Relax."
Talia glanced over.
"I'm not competing with you."
"I didn't say you were."
"You were thinking it."
Talia went quiet.
Then:
"Maybe a little."
Sofia smiled.
"Please."
She looked out the window.
"I have enough problems without fighting you over a boy I don't even like."
Talia relaxed.
Then smiled.
"Good."
A pause.
"But you're still going to investigate him."
"Obviously."
"That's somehow creepier."
"It's called observation."
"It's called stalking when you say it like that."
Sofia ignored her.
Outside, Havenbrook passed by.
School approaching.
Another day.
Another collection of rumors.
Another chance to figure out what exactly had happened to Evan Mercer.
Talia stared out her side of the car, wondering if he'd talk to her today.
Sofia stared out hers, wondering what he was hiding.
Two different kinds of interest.
Neither particularly serious.
Yet.
And somewhere across Havenbrook, completely unaware that two girls were analyzing him for entirely different reasons...
Evan Mercer sneezed.
Then accidentally turned invisible.
Probably unrelated.