All This Time

Myra's P.O.V

"Landon," I muttered, the name scraping against my throat like glass.

I couldn't believe who was standing right in front of me. It felt as though a ghost had materialized out of the damp night air.

"How are you here?"

"We need to talk. Can you take me to your apartment?" Landon said, his voice a gravelly, urgent whisper.

Elisa glanced between us, her defensive posture softening into pure confusion. "You know who this weirdo is?" she asked.

It took me a second before Elisa's question fully registered. My focus finally managed to move away from Landon's face. His thick hoodie was pulled low over his head, partially hiding his features from the glare of the lobby lights.

"Yes, I do. He's a friend of mine," I replied, forcing my voice to sound steady. She looked at me again suspiciously before nodding. "Fine. But get him out of my sight already." She waved us away with a dismissive flick of her wrist.

"Forget the stairs. We'll be using the elevator. This way." I led Landon toward the steel doors, and when they slid shut, I immediately stepped back until my shoulders hit the mirrored wall.

This had to be some kind of trick. Someone was wearing a mask that looked exactly like my dead brother's face. The person standing in front of me simply could not be Landon.

"You can't be Landon. He died five years ago," I said aloud, my knuckles white as I gripped the handle of my purse.

"Myra, it's really me. We have a lot to talk about." He tried to take a step toward me, but I raised a hand, locking my elbow out to stop him. "I'd prefer if you kept your distance," I said, looking at him suspiciously. The air in the elevator felt entirely too thin, and I still couldn't trust him.

The elevator stopped with a soft chime. I hurried down the hallway to my apartment, unlocked the door with trembling hands, and stepped inside. He followed immediately, the heavy oak door clicking shut before he slid the bolt forward. I instantly tensed, a prickle of alarm shooting up my spine.

"What are you doing?"

He didn't answer right away. He looked around the apartment, his eyes landing on the blinds.

"I'm just trying to make sure we're safe here." He walked over and pulled them shut, blocking out the city lights before turning back to me. "You have no idea how much I've missed you, little sister."

I stared at him, my heart pounding a frantic rhythm against my ribs.

"How are you alive? You and Dad... you both died in that plane crash."

I recalled the dreadful day I'd received the news of my father and older brother's deaths.

The absolute devastation that had hollowed me out. But if Landon was standing here...

"What about Dad?" I asked, hope creeping into my voice, warm and dangerous. "Is he alive too?"

Landon's expression turned grim as he slowly shook his head.

"No, Myra. He's dead."

My face fell, and my heart dropped. A tear slipped down my cheek, and I quickly wiped it away with the back of my hand.

"You've been alive this whole time? And you never reached out to me? You let me believe you were dead? How could you, Landon?" My voice rose as I stumbled backward, catching myself against a barstool. "I mourned you. I mourned both you and Dad."

He let out a heavy sigh, his shoulders sagging under the weight of his dark hoodie. "There was no other option, Myra. You need to understand that I had no choice. I had to stay away from you for your own safety. Nobody could know I was alive."

"Why?" I shouted, anger finally masking the grief. "Explain yourself."

He hesitated, rubbing a hand over his face before speaking. "Dad's death... the plane crash... everything that happened... it was all a setup. Someone assassinated Dad."

My breath hitched. "What?"

He nodded, his jaw clenched tightly.

"Then how are you alive? How did you escape the plane crash?"

"Because I never got on the plane," he answered, the truth spilling out into the small kitchen. "The day we were supposed to leave, I misplaced my passport. Only Dad and his PA knew about it. I was staying in a small motel when I received an anonymous package warning me that the plane would blow up and telling me to lay low."

After a brief pause he continued.

"At first, I didn't believe it. How could I? I thought it was just some crazy person playing a prank on me. But a few hours later, I saw the news. Our plane had gone down in the Pacific. There were no survivors. I wanted to come home. I wanted to tell you I was alive."

"Then why didn't you?" I demanded, the sting of abandonment burning fresh in my chest. "Why did you let me mourn you? Why did you let me believe you were dead? Dad was gone, and I needed my brother. But you weren't there."

Landon lowered his gaze to the floor. "I couldn't return home, Myra. That anonymous person sent me another letter. They warned me that I couldn't trust anyone. No one at all. And that nobody could know I was alive because if they did, you'd be in danger. I've been keeping tabs on you all these years."

I scoffed, a bitter sound escaping my lips.

"Keeping tabs on me? Who did that help? You or me?"

He sighed, running a hand through his messy hair.

"Trust me, I would've reached out if I could. But Vincent was always around you. I couldn't leave any message because I couldn't trust even him."

I frowned, the mention of my ex-husband making me think of the secret documents currently hidden beneath my shirt.

"Are you saying Vincent had something to do with this?"

"No," Landon replied quickly, raising his hands. "That's not what I'm saying. But like I said, I couldn't trust anyone. Then, a week ago, I heard you'd gotten divorced and were living on your own. I knew it was my only chance to finally speak to you."

Everything was too much for me to process at once. After my messed up day, and now my dead brother was standing in my kitchen. I rested my elbows on the counter and buried my face in my hands. I couldn't believe it. My brother had been alive all these years.

I didn't know whether to hug him or throw him back out the door. I felt betrayed. Utterly and completely hurt. It was like an old wound had been ripped open all over again, bleeding afresh.

Landon quietly took the stool across from me.

"I'm sorry I kept you in the dark all these years, Myra," he said softly, reaching out as if to touch my arm before drawing his hand back. "It was the only way I could protect my little sister."

I slowly lifted my head, my eyes burning.

"Protect me from what exactly?" I asked.

Landon's expression hardened, all the warmth fading from his features.

"The same people who killed Dad, Myra. They're still very active." He held my gaze, his eyes reflecting a terrifying intensity. "And I happen to know why Dad was killed."