Chapter 6 - THE BROTHER WHO CAME BACK IN THE STORM
Damian Cross entered the wine cellar carrying a flashlight and a smile.
He looked enough like Adrian to make my stomach twist.
Same height.
Same dark hair.
Same gray eyes.
But where Adrian’s coldness came from control, Damian’s came from enjoyment.
“Well,” he said, looking at me. “This is unexpected.”
Adrian stepped in front of me.
“You shouldn't be here.”
Damian laughed.
“Neither should you, apparently.”
His eyes dropped to Adrian’s injured leg.
Then to the blankets around his shoulders.
“You look terrible.”
“Disappointed?”
“Honestly? A little.”
My skin crawled.
Damian glanced toward me again.
“So you're the maid.”
“Nora Bennett.”
His smile disappeared.
Just for a second.
That was enough.
“You know my name.”
“I know many names.”
“Did you know my mother’s?”
Silence.
Adrian looked sharply toward him.
Damian recovered quickly.
“Diane Bennett? The nurse?”
My heart pounded.
“You did know her.”
“She was inconvenient.”
The word made my hands curl into fists.
Adrian’s voice went deadly quiet.
“Choose your next sentence carefully.”
Damian smiled.
“There he is.”
He took another step.
“The great Adrian Cross. Ready to kill for the maid he wanted fired.”
I felt heat rise into my face.
But Adrian didn’t look at me.
“What do you want?”
Damian sighed.
“The same thing I've wanted for years.”
“Control?”
“Truth.”
Adrian laughed bitterly.
“You wouldn't recognize it.”
Damian's smile faded.
Then he looked at me.
“Did Adrian tell you why Elena died?”
I didn’t answer.
“Did he tell you she was leaving him?”
Adrian went still.
My stomach tightened.
Damian continued.
“She was terrified of him.”
“Stop.”
“She packed a suitcase.”
“Stop.”
“She asked your mother to help her escape.”
I looked at Adrian.
He didn't deny it.
That hurt more than I expected.
“Is that true?”
His jaw tightened.
“Yes.”
The cellar felt colder.
Damian smiled.
“Elena wasn't kidnapped from a happy marriage. She was running.”
Adrian stared at me.
“I never hurt her.”
Damian laughed softly.
“You didn't have to. She knew what your world could do.”
For a moment, I saw something in Adrian I hadn't seen before.
Shame.
Not anger.
Shame.
Then Damian continued.
“But Elena made one mistake.”
He looked toward the envelope in my hand.
“She thought Marcus would help her.”
My heart tightened.
“Instead?”
“Marcus told me everything.”
Adrian’s expression hardened.
“You and Marcus arranged the kidnapping.”
Damian smiled.
“That wasn't the original plan.”
“What was?”
“To scare Elena into giving us the financial records.”
My stomach twisted.
“And then?”
Damian’s smile vanished.
“She fought.”
Silence.
I couldn't breathe.
Adrian looked as though someone had driven a blade into his chest.
“Who killed her?”
Damian shrugged.
“Marcus panicked.”
The sound Adrian made wasn't human.
He lunged.
I grabbed him.
“Nora, move.”
“No.”
“He killed my wife.”
“And if you attack him while you can barely stand, he gets what he wants.”
Damian watched us with amusement.
Then his expression changed when I lifted the unlabeled vial.
“You recognize this?”
For the first time, fear crossed his face.
I noticed.
So did Adrian.
Damian slowly said, “You don't know what you're holding.”
“Then explain.”
He stepped backward.
I raised the vial.
“Was this used on Elena?”
Silence.
“Was it used on my mother?”
His jaw tightened.
Then Adrian whispered:
“Answer her.”
Damian looked directly at me.
“Your mother should have stopped asking questions.”
My blood turned cold.
That wasn't proof.
But it was enough to tell me what kind of man stood in front of us.
Then a crash shook the cellar.
The storm had damaged something above.
Damian glanced upward.
That second of distraction was enough.
Adrian slammed into him.
Both men hit the stone floor.
I grabbed Damian’s flashlight and shouted.
“Stop!”
They didn’t.
Then Damian’s coat opened.
A folder slid across the floor.
I reached it first.
Inside were medical records.
My mother's name.
Diane Bennett.
And beneath it, a typed instruction dated six years earlier:
CONTINUE LOW-DOSE EXPOSURE UNTIL RENAL DECLINE BECOMES IRREVERSIBLE.
I stared.
May you like
My mother hadn’t simply gotten sick.
Someone had planned her death slowly.
Related Stories
