Chapter 5: The Knife That Was Never Meant For Him
The photograph stared back at me.
A frozen moment.
A silent accusation.
Adrian sitting at the kitchen table.
Beatrice standing behind him.
A knife in her hand.
For anyone else, the answer would have been obvious.
For anyone else, it would have been betrayal.
But I had learned something in the last twenty-four hours.
The obvious answer was usually the one someone wanted you to believe.
I called Adrian immediately.
No answer.
I called again.
Nothing.
My fingers tightened around the phone.
For twelve years, I had believed my brother was dead.
Then, in less than one night, I found him alive.
And now, before I even understood why he disappeared, I was watching a picture of him seconds away from danger.
I grabbed my coat.
"Lorenzo.""
He looked up from his desk as I entered.
"Boss?""
His expression was calm.
Too calm.
"I need the location of my private apartment.""
His eyes narrowed slightly.
"Why?""
I stepped closer.
"Answer the question.""
He hesitated.
"The lake apartment?""
"Yes.""
"I don't have access to it.""
A lie.
A simple one.
Because Lorenzo had access to every security system I owned.
Every building.
Every account.
Every hidden room.
For eight years, I gave him the keys to my kingdom.
Now I was realizing I had handed them to the man who might have burned it down.
I smiled faintly.
"Interesting.""
His face remained blank.
"What?""
"Nothing.""
I turned away.
Behind me, he spoke.
"Boss.""
I stopped.
"Be careful who you trust.""
The irony almost made me laugh.
I looked back at him.
"I was about to say the same thing.""
The drive to the apartment felt longer than it should have.
Chicago moved past my window in gray flashes.
People walking.
Cars passing.
Normal lives continuing.
Nobody knew that the foundation of one of the city's most powerful families was cracking.
Nobody knew that a dead man had returned.
Nobody knew that the person I trusted most might have been the reason he disappeared.
When I arrived, the door was slightly open.
My hand moved toward my weapon.
I entered quietly.
The apartment was silent.
Too silent.
The kitchen chair was knocked over.
A glass had fallen onto the floor.
The photograph hadn't shown that.
The photograph had only shown what someone wanted me to see.
"Adrian?""
No answer.
I moved deeper into the apartment.
"Adrian!""
Then I heard something.
A faint sound.
From the bedroom.
I rushed inside.
And stopped.
Adrian was sitting on the edge of the bed.
Alive.
But Beatrice was not holding a knife to his throat.
She was holding a knife near his shoulder.
Cutting away the blood-soaked fabric from his shirt.
Both of them looked at me.
Adrian sighed.
"I assume Lorenzo sent you the picture.""
I stared.
"What?""
Beatrice froze.
Adrian looked exhausted.
"That's what he wanted.""
My eyes moved to the knife.
Then to Beatrice.
Then back to Adrian.
"What happened?""
Beatrice lowered the knife.
"Someone came through the window.""
"Who?""
She shook her head.
"I don't know.""
Adrian answered quietly.
"Someone who wanted him to think I was dead again.""
The words confused me.
"Why would they send me a picture of Beatrice?""
Adrian looked at the phone in my hand.
"Because they know what you do when you see betrayal.""
My expression hardened.
"They wanted me to kill her.""
Nobody spoke.
Because we all knew it was true.
They didn't need to convince me Beatrice was guilty.
They knew my weakness.
They knew I trusted loyalty above everything.
And they knew I punished betrayal without hesitation.
I looked at Beatrice.
"Why didn't you tell me about the intruder?""
She looked away.
"Because Adrian stopped me.""
I looked at him.
"Why?""
"Because I knew what you would do.""
The answer irritated me.
"You think I would hurt her?""
"No.""
He looked at me.
"I think you would blame yourself after.""
The words landed harder than they should have.
I hated that he understood me.
I hated that after twelve years apart, he still knew exactly where my wounds were.
We moved into the living room.
Nobody sat.
Nobody trusted the silence.
Finally, I spoke.
"Start from the beginning.""
Adrian looked at Beatrice.
She nodded.
Six years of secrets were about to come out.
"I found Adrian outside a warehouse on the south side," Beatrice said.
Her voice was quiet.
"I was working two jobs. Cleaning offices at night. Delivering food during the day.""
She looked at Adrian.
"He was unconscious.""
"Why did you help him?""
She looked surprised by the question.
"Because he was dying.""
"That isn't enough of an answer.""
She frowned slightly.
"It should be.""
I said nothing.
She continued.
"I didn't know who he was. I didn't know about the Vale family. I just knew someone had left him there.""
Adrian looked down.
"She saved my life.""
Beatrice shook her head.
"Anyone would have.""
"No," Adrian said.
His voice was certain.
"Not anyone.""
A strange silence followed.
I studied her.
A maid in my mansion.
A woman nobody noticed.
A woman who had hidden my brother from the world.
Why?
"What happened after?""
Beatrice folded her hands.
"He woke up three days later.""
Adrian smiled slightly.
"She was angry.""
I looked at her.
"Angry?""
"Because I tried to leave.""
"Why?""
"Because anyone near me was in danger.""
Beatrice looked at him.
"And I told him he was being stupid.""
For the first time, a real smile appeared on Adrian's face.
Small.
Almost invisible.
But real.
"You told my brother he was stupid?""
"Several times.""
I almost smiled.
Almost.
Because suddenly I remembered something.
Adrian had always surrounded himself with people who challenged him.
People who weren't afraid of him.
And Beatrice was exactly that.
"What did you discover?"" I asked.
Adrian's smile disappeared.
"The truth.""
He walked toward the table and opened the folder again.
"That night wasn't an accident.""
I looked at the documents.
"The fire?""
He nodded.
"Lorenzo arranged it.""
"Why?""
"Because I found out what he and Father were planning.""
The room became colder.
"What were they planning?""
Adrian looked at me.
"To take control of the Vale empire.""
I stared.
"My father owned the empire.""
"Yes.""
"Then why?""
"Because your father was getting old.""
The words felt wrong.
My father had always seemed impossible to defeat.
Powerful.
Untouchable.
"You're saying Lorenzo wanted to replace him?""
Adrian nodded.
"But that wasn't the worst part.""
He pushed another document toward me.
A bank record.
A transfer.
My eyes moved across the page.
The account name.
The date.
The amount.
Then I saw the recipient.
My hands went still.
"No.""
Adrian watched my reaction.
"Yes.""
I looked up.
"That's impossible.""
Beatrice whispered.
"What is it?""
I couldn't answer.
Because the name on the document belonged to someone who had been dead for years.
Someone whose funeral I attended.
Someone whose grave I visited every year.
My mother.
The transfer had been made six months after her death.
Money moved from my father's account.
To hers.
And then somewhere else.
A hidden account.
I looked at Adrian.
"What are you saying?""
His voice was almost a whisper.
"I'm saying your mother didn't die because of bad luck.""
The room felt like it was closing in.
I had spent twelve years believing I understood my family.
I didn't.
Not even close.
A knock suddenly came from the apartment door.
All three of us froze.
Nobody moved.
Then a voice came from the hallway.
A voice I recognized.
"Lorenzo Vale.""
Adrian's face changed.
Not fear.
Recognition.
"No.""
I looked at him.
"Who is it?""
His eyes stayed on the door.
"The person who has been cleaning up every lie for twelve years.""
The handle slowly turned.
And then the voice spoke again.
"Open the door, Lorenzo.""
My blood ran cold.
Because the person outside wasn't calling for me.
They were calling for Lorenzo.
And that meant one thing.
May you like
He wasn't just connected to the truth.
He was here to collect it.
