Chapter 4 - The Enemy Who Knew Too Much
Damian moved first.
He pulled Claire and Lily away from the window.
Vivian ducked behind the bed.
Sheriff Mercer burst through the adjoining door with his weapon drawn.
The man outside stepped backward.
Then disappeared into the darkness.
“Stay here,” Mercer ordered.
Damian was already moving.
“Damian!”
Claire grabbed him.
He stopped.
Barely.
“Don’t leave.”
“Claire—”
“That’s what he wants.”
Damian stared at her.
She tightened her grip.
“You run after him, you become predictable.”
That landed.
Damian exhaled.
Mercer checked outside.
Two deputies searched the lot.
No one found the man.
But the ring remained on the window ledge.
Damian picked it up with a towel.
His mother’s ring.
A diamond surrounded by black sapphires.
His father had given it to Elena Blackwood on their tenth anniversary.
After Elena died, it went to Adrian.
Five years ago Adrian claimed it had been stolen.
Now it had appeared outside a motel room beside the child Damian never knew existed.
Claire watched him.
“Is it real?”
“Yes.”
“You’re sure?”
“I’d know it anywhere.”
Vivian looked sick.
“Rebecca wore it.”
Damian nodded.
“That photograph.”
He sat on the edge of the bed.
For the first time, Claire understood something.
This was not simply about her.
Or Lily.
This was about a family history poisoned long before she entered it.
Damian called Adrian.
No answer.
He called again.
Voicemail.
Again.
Nothing.
Mercer returned.
“No footprints worth anything. Parking lot cameras were cut twenty minutes ago.”
Damian looked at him.
“Inside help?”
“Maybe.”
Claire folded her arms.
“We can’t stay here.”
Damian nodded.
“Agreed.”
Mercer frowned.
“I’ve got a safe house.”
Damian shook his head.
“No police location.”
Mercer’s expression darkened.
“You think one of mine is dirty?”
“I think Elias knew this motel.”
Mercer couldn’t argue.
Claire looked at Damian.
“Where?”
“My mother’s house.”
He saw her reaction.
“It’s not part of any Blackwood property records.”
“Why?”
“I bought it under her maiden name after she died.”
Claire stared.
“You kept a house nobody knew about?”
“I wanted one place that wasn’t business.”
They left before dawn.
Mercer drove separately.
Vivian came with them.
Lily slept against Claire in the back seat.
Damian drove.
For two hours, nobody spoke.
Claire watched him from the passenger seat.
He looked older than he had four years earlier.
Not physically.
Something behind the face.
A tiredness.
She remembered the first time she met him.
She had been working at an art gallery in Boston.
Damian came in wearing a black suit and looking like someone who had never stood in line for anything in his life.
He stared at one painting for twenty minutes.
Claire finally said, “You hate it.”
He looked surprised.
“I don’t.”
“You do.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re frowning.”
“I always frown.”
“That sounds exhausting.”
He laughed.
She fell in love with that laugh before she understood who he was.
Now she wondered how much of that man remained.
The house was small.
White clapboard.
Two bedrooms.
A porch overlooking a lake.
No guards.
No gates.
No cameras visible.
Claire looked at him.
“You expect me to believe this is secure?”
Damian opened a hidden panel near the porch light.
A keypad appeared.
“Some cameras.”
Claire sighed.
“Of course.”
Inside, the house looked untouched by his world.
Floral curtains.
Old books.
Family photographs.
A piano.
Lily ran toward a shelf filled with porcelain birds.
“Pretty!”
Damian smiled.
“My mother collected those.”
Lily pointed to a photograph.
A young woman stood beside two boys.
One boy was Damian.
The other Adrian.
Lily picked up the frame.
“Is that you?”
“Yes.”
“You had funny hair.”
Claire laughed.
Damian stared at her.
She stopped.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“You’re staring.”
“I forgot that sound.”
Claire looked away.
Lily carried the photograph to the couch.
Vivian collapsed into a chair.
Mercer checked the perimeter.
Damian went into the kitchen.
Claire followed.
“We need to talk.”
“Yes.”
“You said you had someone watching me after I left.”
Damian froze.
“You remember.”
“I remember everything.”
He leaned against the counter.
“His name was Thomas Hale.”
Claire frowned.
“I don’t know him.”
“You weren’t supposed to.”
“How long?”
“Six months.”
“Only six?”
“He disappeared.”
Claire stared.
“When?”
“Two weeks after Lily was born.”
Her blood ran cold.
“You knew she was born?”
“No.”
“You just said—”
“I knew you had gone into a hospital.”
“What?”
“Hale reported that you entered St. Joseph’s.”
“That was where I delivered.”
“I know now.”
“You knew then.”
“I knew you went inside. I didn’t know why.”
“You knew I was pregnant.”
“I thought you lost the baby.”
Claire stared.
“What?”
Damian’s face filled with shame.
“Elias sent me medical records.”
“What records?”
“Fake ones.”
He looked down.
“They said you miscarried after leaving.”
Claire’s anger vanished beneath horror.
“When?”
“Three weeks after you left.”
She gripped the counter.
“So you believed our baby died?”
“Yes.”
“For four years?”
“Yes.”
Claire suddenly understood his face in the café.
Not only discovery.
Resurrection.
He had believed Lily was dead.
“How could you not verify?”
“I tried.”
“You had money.”
“I had enemies controlling information.”
“You could have come.”
“I thought coming near you would kill you.”
Claire covered her face.
For four years she had believed Damian knew she had given birth and simply did not care.
For four years Damian had believed his child had died.
Two people had spent years hating each other over a lie.
Claire lowered her hands.
“Who sent the records?”
“Elias.”
“But Elias says Adrian is the enemy.”
“I know.”
“So Elias lied.”
“Yes.”
“Then why believe anything he says now?”
“I don’t.”
Claire stared at him.
“Who does?”
Damian’s expression darkened.
“No one.”
A crash came from the living room.
They ran out.
Lily stood frozen.
A porcelain bird had fallen and shattered.
“I’m sorry!”
Damian stopped.
Claire expected anger.
Instead he knelt.
“Did you cut yourself?”
“No.”
“Then it’s okay.”
“But it broke.”
“It’s just a thing.”
Lily looked devastated.
“Your mommy liked it.”
Damian’s voice softened.
“She liked people more.”
He picked up the pieces.
Claire watched.
This was not the Damian she had left.
Or perhaps it was the Damian she never got to see.
Lily crouched beside him.
“I can fix it.”
“Maybe.”
“With glue.”
“Maybe.”
“Mommy fixes everything.”
Claire laughed softly.
Damian looked at her.
“No,” Claire said. “Mommy absolutely does not.”
Lily disagreed.
“You fixed the sink.”
Damian smiled.
“That’s impressive.”
“You couldn’t fix sinks?”
“I can barely make coffee.”
Lily looked horrified.
“You own cafés?”
“No.”
“Then what do you do?”
Claire and Damian exchanged a look.
Damian answered carefully.
“Business.”
“What kind?”
“Boring.”
Lily nodded.
“That sounds bad.”
“It was.”
Mercer returned.
“Perimeter’s clean.”
Vivian was studying the old photographs.
She stopped at one.
“Damian.”
He approached.
The photograph showed Damian’s parents at a charity gala.
Marcus stood behind them.
Adrian beside him.
And in the far corner, partially hidden, was Elias.
Vivian pointed.
“Look at the date.”
The photograph had been printed digitally with a date stamp.
May 18.
Five years earlier.
The same night Rebecca disappeared.
Damian frowned.
“What about it?”
Vivian flipped the frame open.
There was another photograph behind it.
Rebecca.
Standing outside this house.
Claire looked at Damian.
“You said no one knew about this place.”
“They didn’t.”
Rebecca was smiling.
On the back was a handwritten message.
Elena told me the truth.
Adrian cannot inherit.
Damian read it twice.
“What truth?”
Vivian shook her head.
“I don’t know.”
Mercer stared.
“Inherit what?”
Damian looked around the room.
“My father’s empire.”
Claire folded her arms.
“You said Adrian runs the legitimate businesses.”
“He does.”
“What if he was never supposed to?”
Damian suddenly walked toward the hallway.
He entered his mother’s bedroom.
Claire followed.
“What are you doing?”
“My mother kept journals.”
“Here?”
“I don’t know.”
They searched drawers.
Closets.
Boxes.
Nothing.
Then Lily walked in.
“Daddy?”
Damian froze at the word.
It was the first time.
Lily pointed at the bed.
“There’s something under there.”
Damian crouched.
A floorboard was loose.
He pulled it back.
Inside was a metal box.
Locked.
Claire looked at him.
“You knew?”
“No.”
Damian broke the small latch.
Inside were documents.
Photographs.
A cassette tape.
And a letter addressed in Elena Blackwood’s handwriting.
TO DAMIAN.
His hands shook.
Claire touched his arm.
“Open it.”
He did.
The first line changed everything.
Damian read it aloud.
“My son, if you are reading this, then Adrian has already learned that he is not your brother.”
Damian went silent.
Claire stared.
Vivian stepped closer.
Mercer stopped moving.
And from the front porch came the sound of a shotgun being cocked.
A voice called through the door.
“Damian.”
He knew the voice immediately.
May you like
Adrian had found them.
And he was not alone...
