Chapter 27: The Enemy Within

Darkness swallowed the room as the door burst open. My heart raced, my eyes struggling to adjust to the sudden absence of light. A figure moved swiftly, and before I could react, a sharp pain exploded at the back of my head. The world tilted, and everything went black.

I awoke to the cold touch of a concrete floor against my cheek. My wrists were bound, and a dull ache throbbed at the back of my head. The room was dimly lit, the only source of light a flickering bulb hanging from the ceiling. I was alone.

Memories flooded back—Dominic’s confession, the confrontation, and then the attack. Panic surged through my veins, but I forced myself to remain calm. I needed to assess my situation and find a way out.

Footsteps echoed outside the door. My breath caught as the door creaked open, revealing Thomas. His smug expression sent a wave of anger through me.

“Good to see you’re awake,” he sneered. “We have much to discuss.”

I glared at him. “What do you want?”

Thomas chuckled, stepping closer. “To finish what was started years ago. Your families have caused enough damage. It’s time to end this.”

He leaned in, his voice a whisper. “Dominic thinks he can protect you, but he’s just a pawn, like the rest of them.”

My mind raced. I needed to find a way to escape and warn Dominic. But first, I had to survive.

Meanwhile, Dominic paced his study, frustration etched into his features. I had vanished, and Thomas was behind it. He slammed his fist onto the desk, the wood creaking under the force.

He picked up his phone, dialing a number. “Find her,” he barked. “I don’t care what it takes.”

As he hung up, his eyes landed on a photograph—Elena, smiling. He couldn’t lose her, not now.

Back in the dim room, my eyes scanned for anything I could use. A rusted pipe lay nearby. I inched toward it, the ropes biting into my wrists. With determination, I grasped the pipe, using it to fray the ropes.

The door opened again, and Thomas entered, a sinister grin on his face. “Time’s up,” he said, approaching me.

I waited until he was close, then swung the pipe with all my strength.

The sound of shattering glass jolted me upright.

I reached for the lamp on the nightstand, but my fingers found only empty space. Panic rose in my chest like a tidal wave as I scrambled out of bed, adrenaline igniting every nerve in my body. My room was cast in shadows, save for the faint glow of moonlight spilling through the balcony doors.

I wasn’t alone.

Footsteps—slow, deliberate—echoed down the hallway. I crept toward the door, heart hammering, blood roaring in my ears. Every instinct screamed at me to run, but I couldn’t leave Dominic behind. Not after everything.

I inched the door open and peeked through the gap.

A figure was moving through the hallway. Not Dominic.

Thomas.

His silhouette was unmistakable—tall, broad-shouldered, moving like a ghost. My breath caught. How the hell had he gotten in?

I backed into the room, grabbed the nearest object—a heavy metal sculpture—and raised it above my head.

“Planning to bash in my skull, Elena?” Thomas’s voice sliced through the silence like a blade. He stood in the doorway, his eyes gleaming with amusement. “I expected better from a Sinclair.”

“Get the hell out of here,” I spat, my grip tightening.

He stepped forward, unfazed. “You and Dominic think you’ve got it all figured out, don’t you? But you’re both pawns in a game neither of you understands.”

My hands trembled. “You don’t know anything about us.”

His laugh was bitter. “Don’t I? Dominic is more like his father than he wants to admit. And you? You’re your mother’s daughter in every way.”

That made me freeze. “What the hell are you talking about?”

He tilted his head. “You never asked why your mother vanished. Or why your father has always hated the Caldwells. You assumed it was about money, business, power. But it was always about betrayal.”

Before I could press further, the sound of rushing footsteps pounded from the hallway—and then Dominic barreled in, eyes wild.

“Step away from her,” he snarled, shoving Thomas against the wall.

“I was just reminiscing,” Thomas sneered.

Dominic didn’t wait. He punched him—hard. The crack echoed in the room, followed by the thud of Thomas hitting the floor.

I rushed to Dominic, but his gaze was locked on the man groaning at his feet. “You have no idea how many lines you just crossed.”

Thomas spat blood, chuckling darkly. “Neither do you, brother.”

Dominic froze. So did I.

“What did you just say?” I whispered.

Thomas grinned, a wicked, broken thing. “You didn’t know?” He looked up at Dominic. “You never told her, did you?”

Dominic didn’t answer. His silence screamed louder than any confession.

“You’re his brother?” I stepped back like I’d been slapped. “His twin?”

Dominic’s jaw was clenched so tight I thought it might snap. “Half-brother.”

“Same father, different mothers,” Thomas added. “I got the short end of the stick. The secrets. The silence. The exile.”

“You were never supposed to exist,” Dominic muttered, his voice hoarse.

“Tell her why,” Thomas hissed. “Tell her what your father did. What our father did.”

I turned to Dominic, my hands trembling. “Tell me.”

His eyes met mine. Raw. Haunted. “My father… had an affair with a woman. A woman he swore he loved. But she betrayed him. Ran away pregnant. With him.” He looked down at Thomas. “He was the reason my mother killed herself.”

Thomas sat up slowly, breathing heavily. “Your mother killed herself because she couldn’t bear the truth. Because she found out that your father wasn’t just cheating. He was planning to replace her—with mine.”

The words felt like shrapnel tearing through the air.

I staggered back, unable to breathe.

Dominic’s voice cracked. “He was a liar. Manipulative. A monster.”

Thomas looked at me then. “And now you’re marrying the son of that monster, Elena. How poetic.”

“I’m not marrying anyone,” I snapped. “Not until I know the whole damn truth.”

He pushed himself up, blood smeared across his mouth. “You want the truth? You’ll never get it from him. But me? I’ve got proof. Letters. Documents. Even photos.”

Dominic stepped forward. “Don’t you dare—”

“Then meet me,” Thomas interrupted, a wicked glint in his eyes. “Tomorrow. Noon. The old Sinclair estate. Come alone.”

He limped toward the door, but paused. “Oh, and Elena—when you see what I have, you’ll wish you’d never met him.”

He vanished down the hall, leaving behind a silence that buzzed in my ears.

I turned to Dominic, my heart in shambles.

“You lied to me,” I whispered.

“I didn’t lie,” he said, voice breaking. “I didn’t tell you everything.”

“Same thing.”

Tears threatened, but I blinked them away. I needed clarity, not emotion.

“Is it true?” I asked. “Was your father going to leave your mother? For his?”

Dominic’s eyes closed, the weight of years crashing down on him. “Yes.”

“And your mother—she knew?”

“She didn’t just know,” he rasped. “She confronted him the night she died.”

The silence between us felt like a chasm. My chest ached.

“I have to go tomorrow,” I said.

His eyes snapped open. “I’m coming with you.”

“No. He said alone.”

“Which is exactly why you’re not going alone.”

“I can handle myself.”

“Elena—”

“I need answers, Dominic,” I said, stepping closer, lowering my voice. “And if you want a future with me, you’ll let me find them.”

He stared at me, jaw twitching. Then finally, he nodded. “Fine. But I’ll be watching from a distance. If anything happens to you—”

“I’ll be fine.”

But even as I said it, I wasn’t sure I believed it.

Because the next morning, when I arrived at the old Sinclair estate, Thomas wasn’t waiting for me.

Instead, I found a letter taped to the rusted gate. My name scrawled across it.

And inside?

One sentence that made my blood run cold:

“Your mother didn’t run away—she was taken.”