Chapter 4

Chapter Four

Lucian didn’t answer.

He just stood there.

Rain darkened the shoulders of his black suit. His hair was wet, slightly disheveled in a way I hadn’t thought possible until now.

For once, Lucian Vale didn’t look immaculate.

He looked terrified.

“Who was driving the other car?”

His jaw tightened.

Behind him, voices echoed from downstairs.

Security.

Adrian.

Daniel.

None of it mattered.

I only saw Lucian.

“Answer me.”

He stepped into the room.

I stepped back.

He stopped immediately.

That hurt more than it should have.

Not because I wanted him closer.

I didn’t.

I just hated that he knew I didn’t.

“I was.”

The words didn’t register at first.

Then they did.

My stomach dropped.

“You?”

“Yes.”

I stared at him.

“You were driving the other car.”

“Yes.”

“The night my father died.”

“Yes.”

My hand moved before I thought about it.

The slap cracked through the room.

Lucian’s head turned with the force of it.

Pain shot through my palm.

Neither of us moved.

I had never hit anyone in my life.

Not once.

Lucian slowly looked back at me.

A red mark spread across his cheek.

He didn’t touch it.

Didn’t get angry.

Didn’t say a word.

“Did you kill my father?”

“No.”

“Look at me.”

His eyes locked onto mine.

“Did you kill my father?”

“No.”

“Did your brother?”

A pause.

“I believe so.”

“You believe so?”

“I didn’t see the impact.”

“What does that mean?”

Lucian glanced toward the hallway.

“Not here.”

I laughed.

It came out sharp.

“Are you kidding me?”

“Evelyn—”

“No. We’re done with that. We’re done with I’ll tell you later and not over the phone and trust me and whatever other bullshit you’ve been feeding me since yesterday.”

“I have never asked you to trust me.”

“Well, congratulations. At least we agree on something.”

I held up the photograph.

“You’ve known about me for seven years.”

“Yes.”

“You knew my father.”

“Yes.”

“You were there when he died.”

“Yes.”

“And you sat across from me yesterday pretending we’d never met.”

“We hadn’t.”

“Don’t.”

My voice broke.

I hated that.

“You know what I mean.”

Lucian looked at the photograph.

“I do.”

“Then start talking.”

His gaze moved toward the open bedroom door again.

Then he walked over and closed it.

He locked it.

I almost laughed.

“That’s worked wonderfully so far.”

His mouth tightened.

“I’ve already ordered the entire security team replaced.”

“Daniel too?”

“No.”

“Good.”

That surprised him.

“He tried to protect me.”

Lucian nodded.

“He did.”

“Where is Adrian?”

“Downstairs.”

“Doing what?”

“Being detained.”

“By whom?”

“My security.”

“And then?”

“The police.”

I stared at him.

“You’re calling the police on your dead brother?”

“Yes.”

“That’s going to be an interesting report.”

“He’s not legally dead.”

“What?”

Lucian removed his wet jacket and placed it over the back of a chair.

“His death was reported publicly. Legally, Adrian Vale is alive.”

“Why?”

“Because he never died.”

“I figured that part out when he broke into my bathroom.”

Lucian looked at me.

“His disappearance was complicated.”

“Everything with you is complicated.”

“Yes.”

At least he had the decency to admit it.

I folded my arms.

“My father.”

Lucian went still.

“Tell me what happened.”

He looked toward the windows.

For several seconds, I thought he was going to refuse again.

Then he loosened his tie.

A small gesture.

But with Lucian, it felt like watching a wall crack.

“Your father contacted me three days before he died.”

“Why?”

“He wanted help.”

“With what?”

“Leaving.”

“Leaving where?”

“New York.”

My heart started beating faster.

“He wanted to disappear.”

I shook my head.

“No.”

“Evelyn—”

“No. My father wasn’t planning to disappear. He had a family.”

“He intended to take you with him.”

The room went silent.

“What?”

“You and your mother.”

I stared at him.

“He said he needed forty-eight hours to arrange everything.”

“That’s impossible.”

“It isn’t.”

“He would’ve told us.”

“He was afraid.”

“Of your father?”

Lucian’s expression changed.

“Among others.”

I looked down at the photograph.

My father had always seemed boring.

I don’t mean that cruelly.

He was a dad.

He watched baseball on Sunday afternoons. Complained about property taxes. Burned hamburgers every Fourth of July because he insisted on talking instead of watching the grill.

He wore the same cologne for fifteen years.

He fell asleep in his recliner with newspapers spread across his chest.

He wasn’t a man with secrets.

Except apparently he was.

“What did he do for your family?”

Lucian walked toward the window.

“My father maintained accounts that didn’t appear on any Vale Holdings balance sheet.”

“What kind of accounts?”

“Shell corporations. Foreign trusts. Payments routed through businesses that existed primarily on paper.”

“Money laundering.”

“Among other things.”

I swallowed.

“And my father handled that?”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Evelyn.”

“He was an accountant at Harrison Mutual.”

“That was his legitimate employment.”

I stared at him.

“He worked for both?”

“Yes.”

“For how long?”

“Almost eleven years.”

Eleven.

My entire childhood.

“Why?”

“I don’t know.”

“Money?”

“Probably at first.”

“At first?”

Lucian turned.

“Your father wasn’t a criminal when he died.”

I laughed bitterly.

“You just told me he spent eleven years laundering money.”

“He spent the last two trying to document it.”

That stopped me.

“What?”

“He was collecting evidence against my father.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know.”

“You keep saying that.”

“Because there are things I genuinely don’t know.”

“That’s convenient.”

His eyes hardened.

“Do you think I enjoy this?”

“I have no idea what you enjoy.”

The words came out before I could stop them.

Something flashed between us.

Yesterday, that look would have made my stomach flip.

Today it made me angry.

I hated that some part of me still noticed him.

Even now.

Especially now.

“Continue.”

Lucian looked away first.

“Your father discovered something.”

“What?”

“I don’t know.”

“Something financial?”

“No.”

“Then what?”

“He wouldn’t tell me.”

“But it was evidence against your father.”

“Yes.”

“Enough to make him run.”

“Enough to make him terrified.”

My chest tightened.

I tried to imagine my father afraid.

Really afraid.

I couldn’t.

“He called me three days before the crash,” Lucian continued. “He said he had something my father couldn’t know existed.”

“And you helped him?”

“I agreed to.”

“Why?”

Lucian didn’t answer.

“Why would the billionaire’s son help an accountant destroy his own father?”

“I hated my father.”

There was no emotion in the statement.

That somehow made it heavier.

“Why?”

“That’s another conversation.”

“No. It’s this conversation.”

“Evelyn.”

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

His eyes met mine.

For several seconds neither of us moved.

Then Lucian nodded.

“My father hurt people.”

“What does that mean?”

“Exactly what it sounds like.”

“Did he hurt you?”

Silence.

There.

Something.

Lucian’s face closed.

I had found a door he didn’t want opened.

For the first time, I understood how he must have felt watching me yesterday.

Knowing where the weak spot was.

I didn’t like it.

“Fine,” I said. “We’ll come back to that.”

“We won’t.”

“We absolutely will.”

Something almost resembling irritation crossed his face.

Good.

I wanted him irritated.

I wanted him uncomfortable.

I wanted him to experience five minutes of what the last twenty-four hours had felt like for me.

“What happened the night my father died?”

Lucian was silent for a moment.

Then he began.

“Your father called me at ten forty-three.”

I stopped breathing.

“You remember the time?”

“I remember everything about that night.”

His voice changed.

Quieter.

“He was supposed to meet me at a property in Westchester. I had arranged transportation. Cash. Documents.”

“Fake documents?”

“Yes.”

“For us?”

“Yes.”

I wrapped my arms around myself.

“Did my mother know?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Why wouldn’t he tell her?”

“Because he didn’t know who he could trust.”

“My mother.”

“I know.”

“She was his wife.”

“I know.”

“She loved him.”

“I know.”

“Stop saying that.”

Lucian went quiet.

I wiped angrily beneath one eye.

I hadn’t realized I was crying.

“He called you.”

“Yes.”

“And?”

“He said someone was following him.”

My stomach tightened.

“Adrian?”

“He didn’t know.”

“But you did.”

“I suspected.”

“What did you do?”

“I got in my car.”

“Alone?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because involving my father’s security would’ve told him exactly where your father was.”

That made sense.

I hated that it made sense.

“I found him on Route 22.”

My fingers curled against my arms.

“He was driving ahead of me. There was another vehicle behind him.”

“What kind?”

“Black Mercedes.”

“Adrian’s?”

“One registered to a company he controlled.”

“So yes.”

“Yes.”

“What happened?”

“I tried to get between them.”

Lucian stopped.

The silence stretched.

“What happened?”

“Adrian accelerated.”

My throat tightened.

“So did your father.”

Lucian looked past me.

Not at the room.

Somewhere else entirely.

Seven years ago.

“The road was wet. Your father took the turn too fast.”

“No.”

“He lost control.”

I shook my head.

“No.”

“The car crossed the center line.”

“Stop.”

“It hit the guardrail.”

“Lucian.”

“The barrier gave way.”

I covered my mouth.

I knew this part.

I’d read the police report.

Too many times.

I had imagined it.

Too many times.

My mother screaming when the officers came to the door.

Me standing halfway down the stairs.

Barefoot.

Twenty-one years old.

Still stupid enough to believe fathers didn’t just disappear from the world.

“I went after him.”

I looked up.

“What?”

Lucian’s voice was barely audible.

“I drove through the guardrail.”

My breath caught.

“The other car?”

“The one Adrian mentioned.”

“Yes.”

“That was you?”

“Yes.”

I stared at him.

“Why?”

Lucian looked at me as though the answer were obvious.

“Your father was down there.”

I couldn’t speak.

“The embankment wasn’t as steep where I went through. My car rolled once.”

My eyes moved over him automatically.

Looking for scars I couldn’t see beneath his clothes.

“I got out.”

“Where was Adrian?”

“Still on the road.”

“He didn’t follow?”

“No.”

Of course he didn’t.

“What did you do?”

“I found your father.”

The words hollowed something inside me.

“Was he…”

I couldn’t finish.

Lucian understood.

“No.”

My heart stopped.

“What?”

“He was alive.”

The room disappeared.

“What did you say?”

“Your father survived the crash.”

“No.”

“For approximately eleven minutes.”

“No.”

“The initial impact didn’t kill him.”

I stepped backward.

All these years.

All these years I’d imagined him dying instantly.

No pain.

No fear.

That’s what the police had told us.

What I’d needed to believe.

“He was conscious?”

Lucian didn’t answer.

“Was he conscious?”

“Yes.”

My knees weakened.

I sat on the edge of the bed.

“What did he say?”

Lucian didn’t move.

“What did my father say?”

“He asked me to help him.”

My chest hurt.

“Did you?”

“I tried.”

“How?”

“I called emergency services.”

“You said you couldn’t involve anyone.”

“He was dying.”

The word hit me like another slap.

I looked away.

Lucian continued carefully.

“I tried to stop the bleeding.”

I pressed my fingers against my lips.

“He knew he wasn’t going to make it.”

“Don’t.”

“Evelyn—”

“Don’t tell me what he knew.”

Silence.

I wiped my face.

“Just tell me what he said.”

Lucian stared at me.

“He asked about you.”

A sob escaped before I could stop it.

I turned my face away.

“What did he ask?”

“He wanted to know whether you were safe.”

I closed my eyes.

“I told him yes.”

“Was I?”

“At that moment.”

“What else?”

Lucian hesitated.

I looked at him.

“What else?”

“He made me promise something.”

My stomach tightened.

“What?”

“That I wouldn’t let my family find you.”

A chill moved through me.

“Find me?”

“Yes.”

“They knew where I lived.”

“That’s not what he meant.”

“What did he mean?”

“I didn’t know then.”

“And now?”

“I think he was talking about whatever he took.”

I looked at the photograph again.

“You think he gave it to me.”

“I think Adrian believes he did.”

“And you?”

Lucian didn’t answer.

“You think I have it too.”

“I think your father was careful.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“No.”

I stood.

“Did you marry me because you think I have it?”

“No.”

“Did you pay my debts because you think I have it?”

“No.”

“Did you save my mother’s house because you think it’s hidden there?”

“No.”

Each answer immediate.

Certain.

“Then why?”

Lucian looked at me.

Something changed.

All the coldness disappeared from his face.

It lasted maybe a second.

But I saw it.

“Because I promised him.”

My anger faltered.

“For seven years?”

“Yes.”

“You’ve been protecting me for seven years because you made a promise to a dying man?”

“At first.”

Two words.

My pulse skipped.

I stared at him.

“At first?”

Lucian’s jaw tightened.

There was something he didn’t want to say.

Good.

I was done allowing that.

“What happened after?”

He looked away.

“Lucian.”

“Nothing.”

“Liar.”

His eyes snapped back to mine.

“I rarely lie.”

“Then tell me.”

Silence.

“Why did you keep watching me?”

He took one step toward me.

I didn’t move.

“Because eventually the promise stopped being the reason.”

My mouth went dry.

“Then what was?”

Another step.

He was close enough now that I could see the rain still caught in his hair.

Close enough to smell his cologne.

Close enough that yesterday I might have forgotten how angry I was.

Today I remembered.

“What was the reason?”

His eyes moved over my face.

Slowly.

Not like Adrian had looked at me.

Not recognition.

Something worse.

Something warmer.

Possessive.

“You.”

One word.

My heart slammed against my ribs.

I hated the reaction.

I hated him for causing it.

“That’s not an explanation.”

“It’s the only one I have.”

“So you watched me.”

“Yes.”

“For seven years.”

“Not constantly.”

I laughed.

“Oh, thank God. That’s much less disturbing.”

“I made sure you were safe.”

“You interfered with my life?”

Lucian didn’t answer.

My stomach sank.

“Lucian.”

“Sometimes.”

“What did you do?”

“Nothing that matters now.”

“That’s going to be my decision.”

His phone buzzed.

He ignored it.

It buzzed again.

“Answer it.”

“No.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m talking to you.”

“Your security team is holding your homicidal brother downstairs.”

“He’s not going anywhere.”

His phone rang.

Lucian pulled it from his pocket.

He looked at the screen.

Something changed.

“What?”

He answered.

“Daniel.”

Silence.

Lucian’s entire body went rigid.

“When?”

Another pause.

“Lock the house down.”

My stomach tightened.

“What happened?”

Lucian turned toward the door.

“Nobody leaves.”

He hung up.

“Lucian.”

He crossed the room.

I grabbed his arm.

He stopped.

It was the first time I’d deliberately touched him.

Both of us noticed.

His gaze dropped to my hand.

I let go.

“What happened?”

“Adrian’s gone.”

For a second I thought I’d misunderstood.

“What do you mean gone?”

“He escaped.”

“How?”

“I don’t know.”

“You had six armed men downstairs!”

“I know.”

“And he just walked out?”

Lucian didn’t answer.

Something cold moved through me.

Then I remembered.

The photograph.

The envelope.

The bedroom.

“He got into this house.”

“Yes.”

“He knew which room was mine.”

“Yes.”

“He knew about the photograph.”

“Yes.”

“And he knew exactly where to find me.”

Lucian’s face hardened.

I understood at the same moment he did.

“Someone helped him.”

“Yes.”

“Someone who works for you.”

Lucian reached inside his jacket.

For a second I thought he was reaching for another weapon.

Instead he pulled out his phone.

“Daniel, shut down every employee access credential. Nobody enters or exits the property without you physically clearing them.”

He listened.

Then his eyes moved to me.

“No. She stays with me.”

My skin prickled.

He ended the call.

“I am not staying locked in this bedroom.”

“I didn’t say you were.”

“Then what did you mean?”

Lucian walked toward the closet.

He opened a cabinet I hadn’t noticed before and pressed his thumb against a small black panel.

A hidden door clicked open.

Of course there was a hidden door.

At this point, why wouldn’t there be?

Inside was a safe.

Lucian entered a code.

“What are you doing?”

He removed a handgun.

Then another.

A box of ammunition.

My eyes widened.

“Do you keep guns in every room?”

“Almost.”

“That’s insane.”

“Today suggests otherwise.”

Fair.

He loaded the weapon.

The casual efficiency of it made me uncomfortable.

“Where are we going?”

“My office.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s secure.”

“I thought this room was secure.”

“So did I.”

Another excellent point.

Lucian turned toward me.

“Stay beside me.”

“I’m not one of your employees.”

“No.”

His eyes held mine.

“You’re my wife.”

“Contractually.”

His jaw tightened.

“Today I don’t care about the distinction.”

Something about the words sent heat through me.

Absolutely not.

My father had been murdered.

A psychopath had just broken into my bedroom.

This was not the time for my body to notice Lucian Vale.

I stepped around him.

“Fine.”

He caught my wrist.

Not hard.

But enough to stop me.

I looked down at his hand.

Then up at him.

Lucian immediately released me.

“Don’t walk ahead of me.”

“Why?”

“If someone is still inside this house, I want them to see me first.”

The anger disappeared from my response.

I stared at him.

He meant it.

He would actually put himself between me and whoever was waiting.

“Lucian.”

“What?”

“Did my father really ask you to protect me?”

“Yes.”

“And you’ve been doing that ever since?”

“Yes.”

“Then how did Adrian get into my room?”

The question landed exactly where I intended.

Pain flashed across his face.

Good.

I wanted him to understand.

“You don’t get to control me and call it protection,” I said. “You don’t get to watch me for seven years, manipulate my life, marry me without telling me why, and then decide I should be grateful because you meant well.”

“I don’t expect gratitude.”

“Then what do you expect?”

His answer came immediately.

“That you stay alive.”

We stared at each other.

His phone buzzed again.

This time he checked it.

A message.

I watched his face change.

“What?”

Lucian didn’t answer.

“Show me.”

“Evelyn.”

“Show me.”

For a moment I thought he would refuse.

Then he handed me the phone.

Unknown number.

One photograph.

My mother’s house.

Taken from across the street.

Today.

Beneath it was a message.

I read it once.

Then again.

YOU SHOULD HAVE TOLD HER WHAT HER FATHER HID.

My blood went cold.

Another message appeared while I was holding the phone.

I’LL GIVE HER THE TRUTH YOU WON’T.

Then a third.

This one wasn’t text.

It was a photograph.

My father.

Alive.

Standing beside a black Mercedes.

The date stamped in the corner was three days before his death.

Beside him stood Adrian.

And between them was a third man.

Lucian.

I looked up.

“You said my father came to you for help.”

“He did.”

I turned the phone toward him.

“Then why were the three of you together?”

Lucian stared at the photograph.

The color drained from his face.

“I’ve never seen that picture.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

His eyes met mine.

“Why were you together?”

He didn’t answer.

My chest tightened.

“Lucian.”

The silence stretched.

And suddenly I understood something that scared me more than Adrian breaking into the house.

Lucian hadn’t told me the whole truth.

Not even close.

I handed his phone back.

“Cancel the wedding.”

His expression changed.

“Evelyn—”

“You heard me.”

I pulled the ring from my finger.

The enormous diamond caught the light between us.

“We’re not getting married Saturday.”

I placed it in his palm.

“I’m done.”

Lucian looked down at the ring.

Then at me.

And for the first time since I’d met him, Lucian Vale looked like a man who had just lost something.

Not money.

Not power.

Not control.

Something that actually mattered.

He closed his fingers around the ring.

“Okay.”

I blinked.

That wasn’t the answer I’d expected.

“What?”

“I said okay.”

No threat.

No reminder of the contract.

No mention of my debts.

He stepped aside and opened the bedroom door.

“You want out?”

His voice was quiet.

“You’re out.”

I stared at him.

“But if you walk out of this house today, Adrian will follow you.”

“Then have security follow me too.”

“I will.”

“I don’t need your permission.”

“No.”

Something in his face changed again.

Resignation.

“You never did.”

I walked past him.

Three steps.

Four.

Then Lucian spoke behind me.

“There’s one more thing.”

I stopped.

Of course there was.

There was always one more thing.

I turned.

Lucian was still standing in the doorway.

My engagement ring remained clenched inside his fist.

“What?”

“If you go to your mother’s house…”

His voice trailed off.

“What about it?”

“Don’t go into the basement.”

I stared at him.

My pulse began to climb.

“Why?”

Lucian’s eyes met mine.

And there it was again.

That terrible hesitation.

The one that meant another secret.

“Because seven years ago,” he said quietly, “your father asked me to put something there.”

My blood ran cold.

“What did you put in my mother’s basement?”

Lucian looked at me.

“A body.”