Chapter 9: Blood Depts

The sterile hum of the interrogation room beneath the Shore Estate was a far cry from the gilded halls above. Concrete walls, a single overhead bulb swinging faintly, and the metallic scent of fear mingled with blood. The impostor—still wearing Gabrielle’s face like a stolen mask—sat strapped to a metal chair, her hospital gown torn and stained. Bruises bloomed across her arms and cheeks; her breath came in ragged gasps.

She had held out for sixteen hours.

Ethan paced the shadows at the edge of the room, arms crossed, expression carved from granite. He hadn’t touched her—that was Welma’s domain, precise and methodical, using methods that left marks but preserved life. Water, pressure points, sleep deprivation. No screams could be heard though; the room was soundproofed.

But everyone broke eventually.

“Again,” Ethan said quietly.

Welma adjusted the clamp on her fingers. A twist. A muffled cry escaped her lips.

“I… I don’t know where they took her,” she whimpered, head lolling. “I’m just… the replacement. A decoy.”

Ethan stopped pacing. He leaned in close, voice a lethal whisper. “You’re sure more than that. You’ve been practicing her walk, her voice, her smile. For months. You know her secrets. You fucking know something.”

The impostor’s eyes—Gabrielle’s eyes, but hollow—flicked up. A bitter laugh bubbled out, wet with blood. “You think torture will make me betray my boss? She’s my savior. Pulled me from the streets, gave me a purpose. To become her daughter. The one she lost.”

Ethan’s jaw tightened. “She? A woman? Her daughter? Who is she? Why is she doing this?”

“She…. Is. Your. Mother! Arggggggg!”

Another twist from Welma. The impostor arched in pain, then slumped. Sweat dripped from her brow.

Ethan’s eyes narrowed. “Welma.” He straightened as he called out.

Welma nodded once and stepped out, already pulling up satellite feeds on his tablet.

Ethan looked down at the broken woman. “Since you won't talk, I’ll make sure you wish you’d rather die a gruesome death.”

She met his gaze, a ghost of defiance in her eyes. “Ha.ha. Bring. It. On. Then.”

Ethan turned away without another word. The door slammed shut behind him.

___

Ninety-six hours had passed since Gabrielle’s scream echoed through the hospital corridor. Ninety-six hours of Ethan tearing Celios apart—raiding safe houses, interrogating Henry (who cracked just after twelve hours, spilling details of his alliance with their rival company), and mobilizing every asset in the Shore arsenal. Drones over the city, hackers breaching traffic cams, bribes to port authorities.

Ethan hadn’t slept. The insomnia clawed at him worse than ever, nightmares of Gabrielle’s scarred palm slipping from his grasp haunting the rare moments he closed his eyes.

After about twenty hours of torture, the imposter finally revealed a name – Elaine Dickinson.

The Dickinsons were an ancient aristocratic family in Celios, rulers of the city for generations, accustomed to power and unquestioned reverence. To them, obedience was not requested—it was expected.

But by the time the family reached its final generation, their glory had begun to rot from within. There were two sons. The eldest died young, leaving the burden of the family name to the younger—Valen Dickinson, Elaine’s father.

Nearly fifty years ago, the Shore family arrived in Celios from Eastern Oregon. They were no insignificant household. Ambitious and calculated, the Shores sought dominance, and to secure their place, they went to war with the Dickinsons—politically, financially, and mercilessly. The clash ended in ruin. The Dickinson empire collapsed, stripped of its wealth and influence, deliberately driven into bankruptcy.

Unable to endure the disgrace, Valen Dickinson took his own life. Elaine’s mother followed soon after, consumed by grief and depression.

Elaine was only a child then—but she remembered everything.

And in the silence left behind by her parents’ deaths, she made a vow: one day, the Shore family would pay.

After several days of relentless investigation, Ethan uncovered a truth so shocking it left him reeling.

Elaine Dickinson no longer existed—at least, not officially. She had changed her name, meticulously erased her past, and through calculated scheming, married Fad Daniels.

From that union, Gabrielle Daniels was born. Four years ago, Elaine had forged her own death and vanished without a trace.

But the revelations did not end there.

Ethan discovered that Elaine had been the mastermind behind the accident that claimed his parents’ lives and left his only sister in a fragile condition—one that required a rare and specific blood type to keep her alive. Worse still, she had also orchestrated the accident on the coastal road four years ago—the one that nearly killed him.

Every tragedy in Ethan’s life, every wound that never healed, traced back to a single name.

Elaine Dickinson.

___

A soft knock at the door.

Welma entered without waiting for permission—something he only allowed when the news was critical.

“Sir, we've got news that there are movements in the old industrial Pier – east of Celios.”

Ethan turned slowly. “Prepare the men, we moved in ten minutes.”

“Yes sir.” Welma nodded and left.