THE FIRST CRACK

Rain started before dawn, a slow, steady rhythm that turned the world grey.

By the time breakfast ended, the Hartman mansion’s garden had become a moving mirror of puddles. The sky hung low enough to touch.

Elias called it perfect weather for bad news.

“Blackwood’s board just released a statement,” he said, sliding a tablet across the table. “They’re calling it internal sabotage.”

Emma’s spoon froze mid‑air. “What’s sabotage?”

Julian ruffled her curls. “When grown‑ups make expensive mistakes.”

My heart sank as I read the headline.

“CEO Blackwood Silent as Fraud Allegations Escalate — Sources Hint at Insider Link.”

“Insider?” I whispered.

Damian nodded grimly. “The news blogs are linking the shell companies to a name…yours.”

For a second, the world tilted sideways.

“What?” Julian’s voice sharpened. “That’s impossible.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Elias said. “It’s out there. The vultures don’t need truth, just a headline.”

I stared at my brothers. “They think I did this?”

Luca stepped forward, phone already in hand. “It’s deliberate. The timing, the leak…someone planted it.”

“Victor and Charlotte.” My voice came out thin. I swallowed. “They’re pointing Adrian straight at us.”

He nodded. “Exactly.”

For a moment, the only sound was Emma’s chair scraping back as she looked around, confused by the tension.

“Did Aunt Evie do something?” she asked softly.

Julian crouched beside her. “No, sweetheart. Grown‑up lies just travel faster than the truth.”

She seemed to consider that. Then she reached across the table and squeezed my hand. “It’s okay. I know you’re nice.”

Somehow, that broke me more than the headlines.

***

Across the city, Adrian Blackwood slammed his office door hard enough to rattle the glass.

“Who’s doing this?” His voice cracked through the room.

The chief financial officer shifted nervously. “We…believe the fraud trail leads to accounts connected to the Hartman trust. Evelyn Hartman’s name appears on several transfers.”

Adrian froze. For a heartbeat, he heard nothing but the echo of that name.

“Evelyn Hartman?” he repeated quietly, like tasting a word he’d forgotten.

“Yes, sir.”

He leaned against his desk. His anger faltered…doubt creeping in like fog.

She couldn’t have done this. Not her. But logic and emotion had never agreed when it came to her.

“Find out where the leak began,” he said coldly. “And keep her out of this headline until we know more.”

When the CFO hesitated, Adrian barked, “Now!”

As the door closed behind the man, Adrian sank into his chair. His reflection in the window looked older, more worn than it should have. Victor’s calm face floated in memory… Trust me, I’ll handle everything.

And he had… until everything fell apart.

Adrian picked up his phone. “Victor. We need to talk.”

***

Back at the Hartman estate, Luca was already assembling a digital forensics team. Screens filled the security room, blue light flashing across his face.

“Whoever planted that story went through a quarantined data server,” he said. “They didn’t hack from outside… they used insider information from someone near Adrian.”

Elias frowned. “So Victor?”

“Likely. He’d have access to both ends.”

I paced the room. “So what do we do? Release a statement? A denial?”

“Not yet,” Elias said. “Lie low. Let their noise echo before we answer.”

“That sounds like hiding.”

Damian closed his laptop with a thud. “Sometimes silence is the best weapon. Makes them wonder what you’re planning.”

I crossed my arms. “And if their version sticks before we say anything?”

“That’s what legal war is for,” he said. “And we have the resources.”

Luca looked up from the screens. “No legal defence works if the court of public opinion turns first. Victor knows that.”

His voice carried the same warning weight it did before bullets flew.

Two hours later, Evelyn Hartman was trending worldwide.

My phone buzzed non‑stop…photos from the gala, headlines twisting every smile into hypocrisy.

“…Sources confirm Evelyn Hartman may have orchestrated the collapse as revenge on former fiancé Adrian Blackwood.”

I turned the screen face‑down. “I can’t watch this.”

Luca reached across and silenced the phone. “Then don’t. They’re baiting you.”

Julian appeared in the doorway, hair messy from stress. “Mom said you’d be up here. She’s furious and baking at lethal speed.”

“She does that when worried,” I said quietly. “And when angry.”

“Well,” he said, “we’re all both.”

He crossed the room and handed me an envelope. “From a courier. No return addresses.”

I hesitated, then opened it. Inside was a photograph…grainy, black‑and‑white surveillance of me walking with Luca outside the rehab centre weeks ago. On the back, scrawled in elegant penmanship:

“You look good in the spotlight. Try not to melt when it burns.”

No signature. But I didn’t need one. Charlotte’s words were always perfume‑poison.

Luca’s gaze hardened. “She’s escalating.”

“She wants me scared,” I said.

“And you’re not?”

I met his eyes. “No. I’m done being scared.”

He studied me, as if weighing those words. “Then we fight back smart.”

At the same time, across town, Adrian faced Victor Crane in his office. The older man looked exactly as calm as ever, pouring two drinks like nothing burned around them.

“You’ve seen the reports,” Adrian snapped. “My company’s bleeding and Evelyn’s name is being dragged through it.”

Victor handed him a glass. “Which makes sympathy fall back to you. Public loves a wounded hero. You’ll emerge stronger.”

“I don’t need pity,” Adrian said coldly. “I need answers.”

Victor sipped his drink. “Then look closer to home. She had motive: humiliation. You embarrassed her publicly; she disappears, then suddenly your accounts implode. Coincidence?”

Adrian slammed the glass down. “Get out.”

“For trying to help?” Victor’s smile barely moved. “Fine. But ask yourself something…when you call her name, does she still answer?”

When the door shut, Adrian’s breath came uneven. A war was being waged, and he no longer knew who was the enemy.

He looked at his reflection again…and saw cracks spidering through it.

Night covered the Hartman estate early, clouds swallowing the horizon.

Elias joined me on the balcony, coat draped against the chill.

“Lawyers will file injunctions tomorrow,” he said. “Defamation suits. We’ll start with the biggest outlets.”

I nodded, barely hearing. “Adrian won’t believe them.”

“You’re not responsible for what he believes.”

“I know.” My voice was quiet. “But belief built us once. Now it’s breaking us from both sides.”

Elias sighed. “Then we rebuild again, with truth this time.”

Below us, Emma chased fireflies with Julian, her laughter rising bright against the heavy air. The sound felt like an anchor to something still good.

Luca stepped onto the balcony. “We found something,” he said. “A data packet hidden in the fake transactions. Embedded coordinates.”

“Coordinates?” I asked.

He nodded. “An offshore account labelled E.H. It links directly to a storage facility in Brooklyn.”

Elias leaned forward. “So someone wants us to find it.”

“Or wants her to show up alone,” Luca finished.

My pulse quickened. “We can’t ignore it.”

“No,” Luca agreed. “We plan it.”

Later, in the security control room, he spread out blueprints under fluorescent light.

“Whoever’s pulling strings expects you to react emotionally,” he said. “We’ll do the opposite. Controlled approach, backup in position.”

I bit my lip. “You sound like you’ve done this before.”

He gave a faint smile. “Once or twice.”

For a moment, the hum of computers filled the silence. Then he said quietly, “When this ends, you’ll have to decide who to forgive and who to finish.”

“Finish?” I echoed.

He met my eyes. “Sometimes survival isn’t clean. But peace afterward can be.”

I didn’t answer. Because I knew what he meant — that one of us would bleed before the truth surfaced.

***

Across the city, Adrian sat alone in his penthouse, rain pounding the windows. His phone buzzed — a new email.

Sender: Unknown.

Subject: Proof of Betrayal.

He opened it. Inside was a single line and an attachment:

“She did this to you. Meet me tomorrow, 9 p.m., Pier 17.”

Below that…a photo of Evelyn outside the rehab centre, same as mine.

He stared at it for a long time, palms trembling. Part of him screamed that it was fake; another part, the wounded one, whispered it might be true.

He exhaled. “Evelyn… what have you done?”

***

Back at the Hartmans’, I stood in my room staring at the rain.

Somewhere out there, I knew the final act of this game had begun.

Someone was drawing lines, crossing them, pulling us back together for one last collision.

And though fear whispered again, it didn’t find a home this time. My anger, my resolve, even my new love for that small girl who believed in me…they built a wall around my heart.

Luca’s voice came from the doorway. “We move on Brooklyn at dawn.”

I turned, nodding. “Then let’s end this before it ends us.”

Outside, thunder rolled again…low, warning, distant.

But soon enough, it would be here.