Ethan got into the car first, on the driver's side, and Kylie got in beside him. Looking at him, she'd thought everything was alright, but he pulled out of the parking lot so quickly that she hadn't even been able to do up her seatbelt, and her body was thrown against the door – and it was only then that she realized that his cool demeanor was nothing but a façade.

"What the fuck?" she growled. "You could have hurt me!"

​​

Ethan's lips were pressed thin. His eyes were cold, and there was no indication that he intended to answer her question, so all she could do was a guess. Her first thought was that it had something to do with his visit with his father being ruined, but she hoped that that wasn't the reason. If it was, she thought that it was a very selfish and petty reason to be angry. They needed to be looking at the bigger picture. Even though Khloe had always been a bitch, the story of her life remained a tragedy – and nobody, once they were dead, deserved to be judged by their likes.

For better or worse, Khloe's life had come to an end, and by now, she had likely already been judged by a power much greater than them.

***

When Stephen arrived back at the hotel where he lived, he decided to take a walk through the garden before going up to his apartment. He had barely made it to the gazebo, though, when he saw a figure dash in and out of the darkness.

Stephen stepped off the path and froze. A few minutes later, the figure appeared and disappeared again, this time closer to where he was hiding. A moment after that, the figure passed right by him, and his shoulder checked the phantom to the ground. Stepping back into the path, Stephen held the man down with his knee and pulled out his phone to alert the hotel security. Before he had a chance to dial, though, the man grunted. "It's me," he gasped. "It's Ken!"

"What are you doing here?" Stephen hissed.

"Where the fuck else could I go?" Ken snapped. Look at me. I have blood all over me. Almost everyone hates me now, and the police are looking for me!

"I am freezing out here," Ken added. "Won't you welcome me in?"

Stephen shrugged noncommittally. "I don't know," he said. "I still can't figure out what you were doing in the hospital. The only thing I can think of is that you were looking to start trouble. There was the porn on the screen, and it was featuring you and Khloe, then you appeared. The next thing we know, Khloe was dead. Why were you even there? If you hadn't been there, Khloe would still be alive. Do you understand what I am saying? This is your fault, and there is no good reason for me to offer you refuge."

"I understand," Ken replied, "and you are right to be suspicious of me. I didn't come to the hospital to cause trouble, though. Ethan asked me to come. I wish that I'd asked why, but I didn't. Now, even if I accused him of setting Khloe up, it would be my word against his… And who would people believe? Certainly, they would not believe me!

"Is Khloe truly dead?" Ken wondered. "She seemed to still have so much life in her when I left… She and I, we never saw eye to eye, but I never once wished to do her harm… "

"Nevertheless," Stephen replied coolly, "she is dead, and if only inadvertently, the blame is on your hands, and you deserve everything you get."

Ken's face went pale, and he began to cry. "Help me," he begged. "At the very least, come with me to the police station and help me turn myself in!"

"You're on your own," Stephen hissed as he pulled out the business card one of the officers had given him, and he threw it at Ken. "I will give you a thirty-second head start for old time's sake, and then I will alert the police to your whereabouts."

***

As soon as Nate arrived home, he went straight for Fannie's room. He knocked, and when she didn't answer, he admitted himself. The room was small, simple, and clean. The bed and drapes were pink.

Nate took one glance around his sister's room and saw that she wasn't there. He stepped into the hallway and called her name, but no one answered. He dialed her phone number, and she picked up, but she sounded drunk. "You need to come home immediately," he shouted. "We have a family emergency."

"It's late," Fanny replied. "I'm busy. I will see you when I see you."

"Where are you?" Nate snapped. "I will pick you up."

Nate checked his pockets to ensure that he had his car keys and turned in the front door direction. Before he had his shoes on, though, Fannie said, "My friend and I are going to a club later. You don't need to worry about me. Even if you found me, I wouldn't leave with you anyways."

Fannie hung up the phone, and Nate was left impotently holding a deadline. "This is all Kylie's fault," he hissed. "Since they started hanging out together, Kylie's taken her out drinking every night…"

Nate threw his car keys onto the table and walked into the kitchen. The maid was in there already, and Nate asked her to make him some soup. "You look troubled," she replied. "Why don't I teach you how to make soup," she wondered. "It will distract you, and you will learn something new. What do you think?"

Nate nodded, and together, they started the fire, prepared the green bean, red beans, and licorice. It was a simple soup, but purposefully so. After today, Nate was certain that he'd be able to make his own soup if he wanted.

After the soup had simmered for more than half an hour, they took turns testing the soup by taste. "It's done," the maid said, and Nate proudly put out the fire. Now that the soup was done, Nate ladled a bowl out for himself, brought it to the living room, sat down, and covered himself with a blanket in order to make himself look sick. Next, he had the maid take a picture and send it to Fannie. Underneath the picture, she wrote, "Shame on you. The young master is sick, and instead of taking care of him, you are out partying, as if you couldn't care less about your brother's health or safety."