Chapter Four: Things We Pretend

She stared at the note for a long time.

He killed your brother.

Her hands shook as she turned it over, but there was no signature. No symbol. No hint of where it came from. Just a crude line of black ink on the back of her hairbrush tucked inside a sealed overnight bag that had been packed by a CainTech security driver.

Someone wanted her to doubt him.

And they weren’t wrong.

What if it’s true?

What if the cold-eyed boy on that screen hooked to wires, stripped of his name hadn’t just forgotten Aaron?

What if he’d helped erase him?

She dropped the note into her coat pocket and stepped into the hallway, silent. The penthouse was too quiet, too still. No city noise. No elevator hum. Just sleek, sterile silence.

She found Adrian standing on the rooftop terrace, shirt sleeves rolled, hands wrapped around a whiskey glass. The city stretched behind him like a kingdom he didn’t want.

He didn’t turn when she stepped beside him.

“You couldn’t sleep either?” he asked.

“No.”

A pause.

Then: “You remembered more today.”

He nodded slowly. “Pieces. Sounds. Names.”

“Anything about Aaron?”

Silence.

Then, without looking at her, he said, “No. But I remember being protected. I think it was him.”

She turned toward him. “That means someone’s lying.”

“They all are.”

Another silence. The wind lifted her hair. His gaze slid toward her, sharp but unreadable.

“You’re holding something back,” he said.

“What?”

“You have that look. Like you’re trying not to scream.”

She didn’t answer.

He took a step closer. “If I killed your brother, I’d want to know.”

Her stomach twisted.

“Would you admit it?” she asked.

His jaw tightened. “If I remembered it yes.”

“And if you didn’t?”

His gaze held hers.

“I’d ask you to tell me what kind of man you think I am.”

He watched the question hit her like a stone dropped in water. Rippling. Spreading.

She didn’t answer him right away.

Instead, she turned and walked back inside.

That told him everything.

Truth was, he didn’t need to hear her answer.

Because he didn’t know what kind of man he was either.

And tonight he was starting to feel the cracks.

Like something inside was waking up.

Something cold.

Something old.

Back inside, Sera stood in the guest room, hands braced on the edge of the bathroom sink, staring at her own reflection.

He’d ask me to tell him what kind of man I think he is?

She wanted to scream I don’t know!

She wanted to say You’re not a killer.

But the note in her pocket whispered otherwise.

She pulled it out. Stared at it. Again.

He killed your brother.

Downstairs, Adrian’s phone buzzed.

1 NEW MESSAGE

FROM: UNLISTED SERVER

Subject: Phase Three Initiated

Attached:

A video.

He opened it.

Grainy, black and white. A cell.

Inside: Sera, maybe 13, strapped to a chair.

Crying.

Offscreen voice: “You will forget your name.”

Sera: “No! Where’s Aaron? Where’s Danny?”

“You don’t have a brother. And Danny is gone.”

She screamed.

The video cut.

Adrian stood there frozen. Blood drained from his face.

She’d been there.

She wasn’t just connected to it, she was part of it.

And they’d done to her what they did to him.

But there was something worse.

The final frame of the video just before it ended.

Someone entered the room.

A teenager.

With the same eyes.

The same jawline.

It was him.

Adrian stumbled backward, shaking. He didn’t remember this.

But his image was in the room where Sera had been tortured.

The camera timestamp read:

04.17.10 – SUBJECT 004 OBSERVES INTERROGATION.

And the line beneath it?

Observer Influence: Moderate.

Complicity Level: HIGH.

The glass slipped from his fingers.

It hit the marble floor with a low crack but didn’t shatter just rolled away like it knew he couldn’t handle another break tonight.

He stared at the laptop screen again.

Complicity Level: HIGH.

There it was, in sterile font. A digital verdict.

He’d been there.

Watching Sera scream.

But I don’t remember it.

God, I don’t remember it.

That didn’t make it better.

It made it worse.

He ran both hands through his hair and tried to breathe. His lungs weren’t working right.

He could face anything, death threats, boardroom takedowns, scandals. But this?

This made him feel like he was going to come apart molecule by molecule.

And when Sera’s voice called from down the hall “Adrian?” he flinched like a man caught with blood on his hands.

She heard it before she saw it.

A strange silence. Tighter. Heavier.

She stepped into the open living room and found him standing by the island. The laptop on the counter. His hands braced against the marble.

He looked like he was trying not to fall apart.

“Adrian?”

He didn’t turn.

“Adrian, what happened?”

He finally glanced at her and she stopped cold.

He looked pale. Like all the color had drained from his body. His eyes weren’t just tired, they were haunted.

She stepped closer. “What did you see?”

Silence.

Then, flatly: “You.”

Her breath hitched.

“What about me?”

He reached toward the laptop and almost reluctantly pressed play.

She watched.

She watched herself at thirteen scream for her brother. Cry for Daniel. Refuse to forget.

Watched the door open.

Watched him step in.

Not the man standing next to her now.

But the boy from her nightmares.

Watching. Cold. Silent.

Her chest caved in.

“No,” she said softly. “No, that’s not ”

“I didn’t know,” he said, voice hollow. “I swear to God, I don’t remember this.”

“You were there.”

“I didn’t help them. Look at me. I didn’t help them ”

“You didn’t stop them either!” she snapped, stepping back like the air between them had caught fire. “You just stood there!”

“I was a kid,” he said, voice cracking now. “They broke me too.”

“And you watched them break me.”

The silence was crushing.

She turned away from him and walked to the far side of the room, needing space. Air. Anything but that damn video playing over and over in her head.

“I trusted you,” she whispered.

“And I didn’t ask for that,” he bit out, every word sharper than the last. “I didn’t ask for any of this.”

“You don’t get to play the victim anymore, Adrian.”

“I’m not playing anything,” he growled. “I don’t know who I am, and every time I think I’m getting close, I find out I’m a monster in someone else’s story.”

She looked back at him.

And for the first time… she saw the pain. Not guilt. Not anger.

Shame.

It cracked something in her chest.

“You said earlier… if you’d killed him, you’d want to know.” Her voice was quieter now. Shaking. “Well, what if you stood there while they broke him too?”

“I’d want to know,” he said. “And I’d still ask if you thought I was worth saving.”

Her eyes burned. She hated him. She didn’t hate him.

She didn’t know who she hated more

The boy in the video,

Or the man standing in front of her now,

Begging without saying a word.

Just then both their phones buzzed.

1 NEW VIDEO MESSAGE

NO SENDER.

They clicked.

This time, it wasn’t the past.

It was a live feed.

Of a basement.

Chains. A bed. A light swinging from a frayed cord.

And someone in the shadows, restrained, bleeding.

A voice distorted through static:

“Round two begins tomorrow.

This time… he’ll remember everything.”

The video cut.

Adrian’s voice broke in a whisper:

“That’s where they turned me into him.”