Chapter 2: The Brother Who Should Have Stayed Dead
For twelve years, I had carried the memory of my brother's death like a scar hidden beneath my clothes.
I had seen the photographs.
I had seen the burned wreckage.
I had watched my father's face collapse when the doctors told us there was nothing left to identify.
Adrian Vale was dead.
That was the truth I built my entire life around.
Until he looked me in the eyes and breathed.
The snow continued falling behind him, covering the ground where I stood frozen.
Beatrice was the first person to move.
Her eyes widened with terror.
Not because I had discovered her secret.
Because she knew exactly what this moment meant.
"Lorenzo..."" she whispered.
I barely heard her.
My attention was locked on the man standing inside that abandoned building.
Adrian looked older.
Of course he did.
Twelve years had passed.
The man in front of me was no longer the reckless twenty-eight-year-old who used to laugh in the face of danger. His dark hair had silver mixed through it. A scar ran along his jawline. His body looked thinner, weaker.
But his eyes were the same.
Those eyes had annoyed me since childhood.
Because Adrian always looked like he knew something everyone else didn't.
Including me.
"You're dead," I said.
My voice sounded unfamiliar.
Adrian didn't answer immediately.
He simply stared.
Then he gave a bitter smile.
"That's what they wanted you to believe.""
The words hit harder than any bullet.
Behind me, the wind howled through the alley.
Inside the building, Beatrice stepped between us.
"Mr. Vale, please.""
I looked at her.
She flinched.
Not from anger.
From disappointment.
That surprised me more than anything.
She wasn't afraid I would hurt Adrian.
She was afraid I would become the same man who caused him to disappear.
"What did you know?"" I asked.
Her lips parted.
"I—"
"What did you know about my brother?""
She looked down.
That was enough of an answer.
My chest tightened.
For months, Beatrice had been inside my home. She had walked past my office. She had served meals to my family.
And she had been hiding the biggest secret in my life.
"You were feeding him," I said.
She nodded slowly.
"Yes.""
"How long?""
Silence.
I stepped closer.
"How long, Beatrice?""
"Almost a year.""
The answer felt like a betrayal.
Almost a year.
A year of watching her enter my mansion every morning.
A year of believing she was just another employee.
A year of not realizing she was connected to the ghost from my past.
Adrian looked at her.
"Don't blame her.""
I turned toward him.
"You don't get to tell me what to do.""
A faint sadness crossed his face.
"There he is.""
My jaw tightened.
"What does that mean?""
"It means after twelve years, you're still carrying everyone else's anger except your own.""
I hated that he knew exactly where to strike.
Because Adrian had always been like that.
Before the betrayal.
Before the fire.
Before everything.
He was the only person in the world who could make me feel like I was still a younger brother instead of a man feared by an entire city.
"Tell me what happened," I said.
Adrian looked past me into the snow.
"Not here.""
"Why?""
"Because if Lorenzo knows I'm alive, this place won't exist by morning.""
The name again.
Lorenzo.
I felt my hand tighten.
"What does Lorenzo have to do with this?""
Adrian's expression changed.
And for the first time since I saw him, I saw fear.
Not fake fear.
Not the kind people showed when they wanted mercy.
Real fear.
"The same thing he had to do with my death.""
The alley suddenly felt smaller.
The walls seemed closer.
I thought about Lorenzo standing beside me earlier.
His quick judgment.
His eagerness to punish Beatrice.
His confidence when he said people like her always became problems.
I had trusted that man for eight years.
I had put him beside me in every room.
I had given him access to everything.
And now my dead brother was telling me he was connected to the biggest lie of my life.
My first instinct was denial.
My second was anger.
My third was the one that had kept me alive.
Suspicion.
"Explain," I said.
Adrian walked closer.
"You really don't remember?""
"Remember what?""
"The night I disappeared.""
I stared at him.
"My car exploded.""
"No.""
His answer came immediately.
"No?""
Adrian shook his head.
"Your car exploded because someone wanted you to think I was inside.""
A cold feeling moved through my body.
"But the investigation...""
"Was controlled.""
"The police—"
"Controlled.""
"My father's people?""
Adrian looked away.
That hesitation told me everything.
"My father knew?""
"No.""
The answer came too quickly.
I studied him.
"You're sure?""
Adrian sighed.
"I'm sure of very little anymore.""
That was not the answer of a man who had nothing to hide.
It was the answer of someone who had survived something impossible.
Beatrice quietly closed the door behind us.
The sound echoed through the empty building.
"We can't stay," she said.
I looked at her.
"You knew Lorenzo was involved?""
She swallowed.
"I knew someone in your organization was.""
"Someone?""
She looked at Adrian.
Then back at me.
"I didn't know who.""
A lie.
A small one.
But I noticed.
I noticed everything.
"You're lying.""
Her face changed.
"I was protecting him.""
"From me?""
"No.""
Her voice cracked.
"From everyone.""
For a moment, nobody spoke.
Then Adrian coughed.
A deep, painful cough.
Beatrice immediately moved toward him.
That small action told me more than words could.
She wasn't his employee.
She wasn't his friend.
She was his protector.
She had been risking everything for this man.
A man my family believed was dead.
A man my empire had forgotten.
I looked around the abandoned building.
There were signs someone had been living here.
A small bed in the corner.
Medicine bottles.
Old newspapers.
A stack of documents hidden beneath a table.
Adrian wasn't hiding like a criminal.
He was surviving like a prisoner.
"Who did this to you?"" I asked.
Adrian looked at me.
Then he said something I never expected.
"You did.""
The words cut deeper than I wanted to admit.
My face hardened.
"Careful.""
"I'm not blaming you.""
"It sounds like you are.""
"I'm telling you the truth.""
I stepped forward.
"You disappeared. You let everyone think you were dead. You let me bury you.""
His eyes softened.
"I know.""
"Do you have any idea what that did to me?""
"Yes.""
"How?""
"Because I watched.""
The world seemed to stop.
"What?""
Adrian looked down.
"I watched you become exactly what they wanted you to become.""
A strange silence filled the room.
"Who is they?"" I asked.
But Adrian didn't answer.
Instead, he walked toward the table and picked up a small folder.
The paper looked old.
Damaged.
Like it had been hidden for years.
"I kept proof.""
"Proof of what?""
He placed the folder in my hands.
My fingers touched the worn cover.
There was a name written across the front.
Not Adrian's.
Not mine.
A name I recognized immediately.
A name connected to every decision my family had made for decades.
My father's closest advisor.
A man who died three years after Adrian's supposed death.
A man everyone believed was loyal until the end.
I opened the folder.
Inside were photographs.
Bank records.
Messages.
And one picture that made my blood run cold.
It showed Lorenzo Vale.
Standing beside Adrian's burning car.
Twelve years earlier.
Before Lorenzo became my right hand.
Before he became the person I trusted most.
My breathing stopped.
"He was there," Adrian whispered.
I looked at my brother.
"Why didn't you come back?""
His expression broke.
"Because the person who ordered my death was standing next to you.""
The folder slipped slightly in my hand.
"Who?""
Adrian stared directly into my eyes.
And when he finally answered, the name felt impossible.
Because it was the last person in the world I expected.
"The man who raised us.""
I stopped breathing.
"My father?""
Before Adrian could respond, the sound of tires cutting through snow echoed outside.
Too many vehicles.
Too fast.
Beatrice's face went pale.
"They found us.""
The lights of several black cars appeared through the broken windows.
I reached beneath my coat.
Adrian looked at me.
For the first time, there was no accusation in his eyes.
Only fear.
Not for himself.
For me.
"Your brother didn't come here to kill me," he said quietly.
I looked toward the door as footsteps approached.
"Then why?""
Adrian's voice dropped to a whisper.
May you like
"Because someone wants you dead too.""
The door handle began to turn.
