Chapter 2 - The man behind the name

Adrian's POV:

The brush moves slowly across the canvas. A woman with her back turned, walking away through a field of flowers. Or fire. I've been working on her for three weeks.

My painting room is at the end of the hall. Door always locked. No one comes in here. My father thinks I spend my evenings reading reports.

 He doesn't know about the canvases stacked against the walls. He doesn't know me at all.

The canvas doesn't leave. My mother did.

I was six. She said she loved me. She said she'd come back. I watched her walk out and never saw her again. My father never talked about it.

He just became the man everyone fears. And he raised me the same. Cold. Untouchable.

Well, I guess he succeeded.

The phone buzzes. I don't want to look. I know who it is.

"Father."

"Aiden." His voice is cold. Commanding. "Three o'clock tomorrow. My house."

"I have meetings."

"Cancel them."

I closed my eyes. This is how it always goes.

"What's this about?"

"Business. A merger with Jonathan Holdings. It comes with a condition."

I waited.

"The owner has an employee. Olivia Hughes. She's going to be your wife."

The words don't make sense.

"You're blackmailing someone into marrying me?"

"I'm negotiating. Her family is poor. Her mother is sick. We're giving her a way out."

"You don't do charity."

"Watch your tone."

"No. You can't just…."

"I can. I am. It's done." His voice drops. "Friday. Ten AM. The lawyer's office. You will sign. One year. After that, do what you want."

Fighting Sebastian costs more than it's worth. "Why her?"

There was a pause. Long.

"Because her mother is Magdalene Hughes."

The name means nothing.

"Someone I knew a long time ago." His voice softens. Almost. "This isn't just business, Aiden. This is personal."

He hangs up.

I stare at the painting. The woman walking away. I picked up the brush. Dip it in black, and painted over everything.

But something stops me.

Magdalene Hughes. I remember now. A file I found in his study years ago. 

A photograph. A young woman, beautiful, smiling. On the back, in my father's handwriting: Magdalene. 1985. Before she chose him.

I thought it was some old girlfriend.

Now my father is forcing me to marry her daughter.

This really isn't business. This is something older. Something that's been burning in him for decades.

I pick up my phone. Scroll to a number I haven't called in years.

Magdalene Hughes. History with my father. Find everything. Olivia Hughes. Her daughter. Full profile. Before Friday.

I hit send.

I don't know this woman I'm supposed to marry. But I'm going to find out what he's really planning.

Across the city, Olivia sits in her car, hands still shaking.

Her phone buzzes.

"Your father didn't die from shock. He was poisoned. Slowly. Night after night."

She reads the words three times.

"Doctor Charles Weiller. The one who gave him the sleeping pills. The ones you gave him every night."

Her hand flies to her mouth. The pills she poured. The pills she placed in her father's hand.

"You're lying."

"Ask yourself why Weiller insisted on being the only doctor. Why he came at night."

She can't breathe.

"Who are you?"

"Central Library. Tomorrow. Noon. Come alone."

The messages stopped.

Olivia grips her phone. Her father was murdered. And somehow, she helped.

She looks up at the building where Robbin's office sits. The man who just sold her to the Logans. The phone call she interrupted. "I'll handle it."

She starts the car. Her hands are steady now.

Tomorrow, she'll go to the library. She'll find out the truth.

And then she'll make them all pay.