Chapter 6: The Good Son

Elsie

My muscles were burning. I dragged Caleb’s giant suitcase up the main staircase, feeling the pressure of Jacob and Aiden’s stare on my back the whole time. The anger I felt for the three men downstairs, Malcolm Lancaster, Aiden, and Jacob, was the only thing giving me strength.

I reached the top floor, breathing hard. Caleb’s room was at the end of the hall. I kicked the bag the last few feet and let out a shaky sigh as it scraped against the wooden door frame.

I was dizzy from the exhaustion, the shame from Aiden's room, the thought that I wished I was the one he was fucking, and the frantic heat Jacob had left me with in the kitchen. I closed my eyes for a second, fighting the urge to shatter the nearest expensive vase.

A quiet voice cut through the silence. "That's quite an effort for just a single trip."

My eyes snapped open. Caleb was standing in the doorway, already out of his suit jacket, his sleeves rolled precisely to his elbows. He looked like he’d been doing paperwork, not traveling halfway across the world.

And then the room tilted.

He looked exactly like Aiden.

The same dark, sharp eyes. The same strong jawline. The same heavy, dark hair. When I looked at Caleb, I saw the face of the man who had just used his body and his phone to humiliate me. My breath hitched, and the unwanted desire that Aiden sparked in me flared up, hot and embarrassing, just from looking at Caleb’s face.

But then he smiled, a small, tired smile. It was professional, not predatory.

"I apologize for the luggage," he said, stepping out to give me space. "My briefcase alone is heavy enough. I appreciate you handling it."

I stared at him, unable to speak, confused by his basic human courtesy. He looked like the monster, but he talked like a decent person.

"I—it's my job," I finally managed, my voice rough.

"Yes, but you shouldn't have to carry the equivalent of a small boulder," Caleb said, looking at the bag. He walked into his room. "Just set it down anywhere, please."

I pulled the bag inside, stepping into his space. His room was pristine, completely unlike Aiden’s chaotic, thrown-together mess. Caleb had a massive desk covered in neat stacks of folders and financial charts. Everything was precise, organized. It was the room of a man who was in control.

"And please, rest for a moment," Caleb added, walking to his desk. "You look completely exhausted. My brothers are already wreaking havoc, I see."

The words were soft.

Caleb finally stopped, leaned back against his desk, and sighed. The sigh seemed genuine, heavy with responsibility. "I can't tell you how sorry I am for the trouble they cause the staff. Honestly, they are a nightmare."

I couldn't help it. I wanted to talk to someone, anyone, who saw them for what they were. "They, they are awful," I admitted, my voice dropping to a low whisper.

Caleb nodded. "They are. They are children, Elsie. They always have been. They don't care about anything but causing problems and embarrassing this family. And embarrassing the people who work here." He looked at me with an expression of complete sympathy. "I know they've been running some cruel games. They love to push boundaries."

His honesty was dangerous. It was validation that I desperately craved.

"You look so much like Aiden," I blurted out, with a small laugh that didn’t quite reach my stomach.

Caleb gave a short, humorless laugh. "Ah, the confusion. It's common. People think Aiden and I are identical twins. They're wrong." He pushed off the desk, taking a step toward me. "I am two years older than they. Jacob is the quiet, built-like-a-brick-wall troublemaker."

He paused, holding my gaze. "Aiden and I share the same face. That's why we look alike. But that, I promise you, is where the similarity ends."

He looks exactly like the man who just humiliated me, but he talks like the lawyer who should have defended me.

"They hate their jobs, they hate Dad, and they hate that I'm the one running the company," Caleb continued, his voice hardening slightly. "So they just bring shame and trouble. You are one of their casualties, and I truly apologize. They are the reason the staff never stays."

He walked closer to the door, signaling the end of the conversation. His manners were perfect. His sympathy was perfect. It felt like a warm blanket after being locked in a freezer.

"You seem very... responsible," I said, trying to process the information.

"I have to be," Caleb said, his smile thin. "Someone has to protect the family name, and the staff. Don't worry, Elsie. I'm here now. They won't run games like that anymore."

He opened the door and gave me a firm, professional nod. "You should get some rest. And please, use the back stairs today. It'll be less chaotic with my father here."

I felt a surge of relief. Safety. A real, honest-to-goodness break.

"Thank you, sir," I whispered. I almost meant it.

I walked out of his perfect, calm room, feeling the sudden, intoxicating rush of having an ally, a perfect, good man who looked just like the enemy. My revenge plan suddenly felt much safer, much clearer.

I started down the hall, feeling lighter than I had all day.

Suddenly, a large, warm hand closed around the back of my neck.

I gasped, freezing instantly.

"He's wrong, you know."

It was Jacob. His voice was low, rough, and dangerously close to my ear. He had appeared from nowhere, right outside Caleb's door.

"You don't want the responsible one," Jacob murmured, his grip firm but not painful, sending a familiar, sickening jolt of heat through my body. "You want the chaos. You want us."

He slowly squeezed the back of my neck, then gave me a rough push down the hall, directly toward the stairs.

"Go back to your room, Elsie. And don't trust my brother. He is dangerous. You have no idea what Caleb is capable of.”

Dangerous? Sounded to me like he was jealous. If there was anyone in the Lancaster mansion to be wary of, it’s him and his twin brother.

I didn't dare look back. I ran. My mind was screaming. Caleb saw me as a victim. Jacob saw me as a willing participant. And I couldn't tell which one of them was telling the truth about what I truly wanted.

I stumbled down the attic stairs, my hand pressed to the back of my neck where Jacob had touched me. I reached my room and slammed the door shut, leaning against it, trembling. They are both wrong. I don't want either of them. I had to remind myself. My plan. My revenge. I needed to focus. I needed proof. I needed something real.

I clawed under the edge of my mattress, pulling out the one thing I had salvaged from my old life. It was a crumpled, faded photograph of my sister, Clarita. She was smiling, beautiful, and completely gone because of these men.

I looked at her face, then down at the picture's worn frame, where I had hidden the object that would ruin them all: a single, a golden customized button. If I could find the shirt that fits in Aiden’s room, I’ll be able to prove that he did it.