Chapter One Hundred - The Finale

The Baldwin family has closed the door on their old home—literally and figuratively. The halls that once echoed with laughter, fights, secrets, and survival are now silent. 

Memories hang in the air like dust motes in sunlight. Harper's late-night pacing, Jackson's quiet breakdowns, Harriet's furious typing at her desk, Camila's tired footsteps from room to room. That house held them through grief, trauma, love, and growing pains—and now, as they step into a new space, they carry all of it with them.

Harriet is gone from that house, off to college and caught between new beginnings and regrets. Her dorm room is fresh but unfamiliar, but her guilt travels with her like an unpacked box. She left home chasing freedom and a future, but deep down she wonders—did she abandon her sister again when she needed her most? Should she have spoken up? Confessed? Taken some of the burden Harper bore alone? Her new life is full of possibilities, but it's also laced with shame she hasn't learned how to put down.

Jackson is home again—sober, cautious, and changed. Rehab gave him clarity, and now his days are structured, currently supported by outpatient therapy and the quiet love of Ashley. For the first time, he's not lost in chaos. He's sleeping through the night. He's dreaming again. The new house comes with a room of his own, four blank walls that feel like a blank slate. He's hopeful... and afraid. Because sobriety isn't just about stopping—it's about becoming someone new. Someone better.

Cody is on the edge of his senior year. Life is supposed to be light and fast right now—college plans, football games and a somewhat promising future with Millie by his side. But a weight lingers. What happens now, now that Harper's turned herself in—because if Harper didn't kill Cece, then someone else did. Someone still out there. And Cody doesn't know how to answer that. He's tried to bury that fear, but it finds him in quiet moments. How do you protect your family from a truth no one is willing to face?

Aura is finding her voice. She's felt like the quiet one for so long—watching, absorbing, hurting in silence—but she's no longer shrinking from it. With Harper in juvie, she's trying to hold onto hope. She's stepping into her own friendships, her own story. Leah is feeling more than a friend, and Aura is scared, excited, and comforted all at once. She believes her family will heal, and she believes that love—messy, unpredictable love—is still worth reaching for.

Camila and Thomas are exhausted, as always, but there's a new layer to it. Letting go of the family home—where they raised five kids, where they lost the cruel matriarch, where so many tears were shed—felt like ripping something out of their chest. But They are doing what they have always done: packing boxes, hiding heartbreak behind soft smiles, and starting to show up. They know their children are changing. They know they're all growing up. And they both hope the new house, this new chapter, can give them something their old one couldn't. Peace.

And Harper... Harper turned herself in to protect Camille, yes. But also to take control of her story. She's tired of being the victim of systems, the product of pain. Now in a juvenile facility, she waits to be transferred to a therapeutic centre—a place where she'll be evaluated, treated, and watched over. One year. That's what they said. A year to work through the trauma, the anger, the hurt. A year to reclaim pieces of herself that the world and her grandmother tried to strip away. 

But Harper still doesn't know what really happened that night.

And neither do we.

Book 1 ends not with clarity, but with forward motion. The Baldwin family are no longer trapped—but they're not quite free either. They are rebuilding, cautiously hopeful, still fractured, but choosing to move anyway. They are growing into new roles, new relationships, and new truths.

But a question still lingers in the background, unspoken but ever-present.

If Harper and Harriet didn't kill their grandmother... then who the hell did?