Chapter 57: The Name That Burns

The screens went black at the same time, plunging the room into a silence so thick it felt like it pressed against my chest.

No hum.

No flicker.

Just the echo of her voice still ringing in my ears.

I know the name.

I stood there, unmoving, my mind replaying her smile over and over again the way she tilted her head slightly, as if this was all a game she had already won.

“Turn everything off,” Elliot said sharply.

“They already are,” Marcus replied, scanning the room. “That wasn’t a hack. That was a message.”

“To who?” my sister asked, her voice shaking.

“To all of us,” Liam answered quietly. My sister’s mate rarely spoke unless it mattered and when he did, people listened.

I wrapped my arms around myself, suddenly cold despite the heat in the room.

“What name?” I asked.

No one answered.

I laughed then short, sharp, bitter. “It’s amazing how silence keeps showing up when I need truth.”

Elliot stepped toward me. “I didn’t tell you because I wanted to keep you safe.”

I turned on him so fast he flinched.

“You don’t get to decide that anymore.”

His jaw tightened, pain flickering across his face. “The recording contains the name of the person who ordered your father watched.”

My stomach dropped. “Watched… or killed?”

No one corrected me.

Marcus looked away.

That was answer enough.

“Say it,” I whispered. “Say the name.”

Elliot hesitated.

That hesitation told me something was very, very wrong.

“Elliot,” I said, my voice dangerously calm, “if the name on that recording is someone standing in this room, I swear to you”

“It’s not,” he interrupted quickly. “Not directly.”

That word again.

Directly.

Liam shifted. “Who is it?”

Elliot exhaled slowly. “A man named Richard Hale.”

The name meant nothing to me.

And yet my chest still hurt.

“I don’t know him,” I said.

“But you know his daughter,” the fixer said quietly.

The room tilted.

My breath caught. “No.”

Elliot closed his eyes.

“No,” I repeated, louder this time. “You’re lying.”

“I wish I were,” the fixer replied. “She changed her name years ago. New identity. New face. Same obsession.”

Her smile flashed in my mind again.

Mocking.

Triumphant.

“You’re telling me,” I said slowly, “that the woman who has been tearing my life apart is doing it because of something my father discovered?”

“Yes,” Elliot said. “And because of something I did.”

I turned to him.

“What did you do?”

He met my eyes, and for the first time since I’d known him my dad’s best friend, the man who had always felt unbreakable he looked afraid.

“I confronted Richard Hale,” he said. “Off the record. I thought I could scare him.”

“And?” Marcus asked grimly.

“And he laughed,” Elliot said. “Then he warned me to stop digging.”

My heart pounded. “You didn’t.”

“No.”

The fixer nodded. “Two weeks later, your father was dead.”

The words sliced through me.

I staggered back, my sister catching my arm.

“No,” I whispered. “That’s not, he died in an accident.”

“That’s what they wanted you to believe,” the fixer said gently. “The recording proves otherwise.”

My knees gave way, and I sank onto the couch, air leaving my lungs in a rush.

All this time.

All these years.

Her obsession wasn’t random.

It was inherited.

“She wants the recording,” I said numbly.

“Yes,” Elliot replied. “And she wants revenge.”

“For what?” I snapped. “Her father ordered my dad watched probably worse!”

“She believes your father destroyed her family,” Marcus said. “And she believes you are the final loose end.”

A sharp sound escaped my throat half laugh, half sob.

“So I’m a symbol,” I said. “That’s comforting.”

Liam crouched in front of me. “We won’t let her touch you.”

I looked at him, at my sister’s mate the man who had walked into our lives quietly and stayed steady through chaos.

“She already has,” I said.

My phone vibrated again.

Unknown number.

I didn’t hesitate this time.

I answered.

“Enjoying the story?” her voice purred.

“Stay away from me,” I said.

She laughed softly. “Oh, sweetheart. I’ve been close to you longer than you think.”

Elliot lunged forward. “Hang up.”

I raised a hand, stopping him.

“What do you want?” I asked.

“The recording,” she replied. “And the truth.”

“You already know the truth,” I said.

“No,” she corrected. “I know a version. I want the one where Elliot admits what he did next.”

The room went still.

“What he did next?” I echoed.

Her voice dropped to a whisper. “Ask him who deleted the second half of the recording.”

My heart slammed against my ribs.

I turned slowly to Elliot.

“You deleted part of it?”

His silence was deafening.

“Why?” I asked, my voice breaking.

“Because it named me,” he said hoarsely.

Everything shattered.

The fixer swore.

Marcus stepped back.

My sister whispered my name.

“You killed my father?” I breathed.

“No,” Elliot said desperately. “I didn’t. But the recording makes it sound like I set things in motion.”

“And did you?” I demanded.

He couldn’t answer.

Her laughter filled the line again. “Tomorrow,” she said sweetly, “I release what I have. Unless you meet me first.”

“Where?” I asked.

She gave an address.

Then the line went dead.

I stood, legs trembling, rage and grief twisting inside me.

“I’m going,” I said.

“No,” Elliot said.

I turned to him, eyes burning.

“You don’t get to protect me from the truth anymore.”

And for the first time, I wasn’t sure if the man who had raised me after my father’s death was my shield

Or the reason everything had fallen apart.