Chapter 5 - THE BROTHER IN THE GRAVEAdrian's father had buried an empty coffin.
Metal shutters descended over vulnerable windows.
Security teams swept every room twice.
Dogs searched the grounds.
No intruder was found.
That frightened Adrian more than finding one would have.
Someone had entered the most secure home he owned.
Or worse.
Someone already inside had placed the box.
Sarah sat on the edge of the bed in the guest suite while a nurse changed the dressing beneath her shoulder.
“Everything looks clean,” the woman said. “But you need rest.”
Rest.
Sarah almost laughed.
Outside her door stood two armed guards.
Across the hallway, another man monitored a security screen.
And somewhere downstairs, Adrian was interrogating his own employees.
The nurse left.
Sarah tried sleeping.
At 1:14 a.m., she heard crying.
Soft.
Then louder.
A child's voice.
“No! No, no, no!”
Sarah stood.
Pain pulled across her ribs.
She opened the door.
The guards turned.
“Ma'am—”
“Where's Ethan?”
“Mr. Vale has it handled.”
Another scream echoed down the hallway.
“Apparently not.”
She walked past them.
Ethan's bedroom door stood open.
Adrian sat beside the bed while his son thrashed beneath the blankets.
“Sarah!”
The boy screamed her name without being awake.
Adrian looked helpless.
Actually helpless.
Sarah entered.
“Move.”
His eyes snapped toward her.
“You should be resting.”
“So should he.”
“Sarah—”
“Move.”
Perhaps because no one spoke to Adrian Vale that way, he obeyed from sheer surprise.
Sarah sat beside Ethan.
“Hey.”
He cried harder.
“Sarah's dead.”
“No.”
She touched his hair.
“Sarah died.”
“Buddy, listen to me.”
His eyes opened.
Wild.
Terrified.
Then focused.
“You're here.”
“I'm here.”
He launched himself against her.
Pain shot through Sarah's side.
She hid it.
Ethan sobbed into her shoulder.
She rubbed his back.
“I'm here.”
Adrian stood several feet away.
Watching.
Ethan's breathing gradually slowed.
Within fifteen minutes, he fell asleep with his hand wrapped around Sarah's finger.
She carefully lowered him.
Then she found Adrian staring at her.
“What?”
“How did you do that?”
“I stayed.”
His face tightened.
“I stay.”
“You sit beside him.”
“What's the difference?”
“You sit beside him like you're guarding a hostage.”
Adrian looked offended.
“I do not.”
“You absolutely do.”
She stood.
“Talk to him.”
“About what?”
“Anything.”
“He's six.”
“Yes. Six-year-olds famously enjoy things.”
“I know what he enjoys.”
“Name three.”
Adrian opened his mouth.
Nothing came out.
Sarah folded her arms.
“Exactly.”
His expression turned irritated.
“That doesn't make me a bad father.”
“I didn't say it did.”
“You implied it.”
“No. I think you're a scared father.”
He went still.
Sarah regretted the words immediately.
But Adrian surprised her.
“Yes.”
The answer was barely audible.
He walked toward the window.
“When Ethan was three, his mother was killed.”
Sarah's anger vanished.
“I didn't know.”
“No reason you would.”
“How?”
Adrian's face became stone.
“Car bomb.”
Sarah stared.
“She was driving?”
“I was supposed to be.”
Everything became quiet.
“It was meant for you.”
“Yes.”
“And Ethan?”
“In the house. He saw the explosion through a window.”
Sarah looked back at the sleeping boy.
Suddenly his fear made terrible sense.
Adrian continued.
“After that, I decided affection was a vulnerability.”
“For you?”
“For everyone around me.”
“So you became distant.”
“I kept him protected.”
“You kept him alive.”
“Yes.”
“That isn't always the same thing.”
Adrian looked at her.
The words could have angered him.
Instead, they seemed to exhaust him.
“I know that now.”
Sarah's heart moved unexpectedly.
This was dangerous.
Not the guns.
Not the guards.
Not the criminal empire.
This.
Seeing the human being underneath the reputation.
She walked toward the door.
“Stay until he wakes.”
Adrian frowned.
“What do I say?”
“Start with good morning.”
The next day, Ethan came to breakfast holding his father's hand.
Sarah noticed immediately.
Adrian pretended not to.
Vivienne certainly noticed.
She hid a smile behind her coffee.
“I slept,” Ethan announced.
Sarah smiled.
“So I've heard.”
“Daddy told me about when he broke his arm falling out of a tree.”
Sarah looked at Adrian.
“You climbed trees?”
“I was eight.”
“He cried.”
“I did not.”
“Grandma said you did.”
Vivienne took a sip of coffee.
“I have photographs.”
Adrian gave his mother a look capable of starting wars.
Ethan laughed.
For ten beautiful minutes, the mansion seemed almost normal.
Then Mason entered.
“Adrian.”
One word.
The warmth vanished.
Adrian stood.
“What?”
“We found the security breach.”
Mason placed a photograph on the table.
A middle-aged man.
Gray hair.
Friendly smile.
Sarah recognized him as one of the household staff.
“Who is that?”
Adrian stared.
“Thomas Greeley.”
“Your employee?”
“My head groundskeeper.”
“For twenty-two years,” Vivienne said quietly.
Mason nodded.
“His key card accessed the west corridor forty-three minutes before the box appeared.”
Adrian's face hardened.
“Where is he?”
“Missing.”
Sarah felt cold.
“How long?”
“Since last night.”
Adrian turned toward his security chief.
“Find him.”
“We're trying.”
Mason hesitated.
“What?”
“We found something in his room.”
He handed Adrian an envelope.
Inside were bank statements.
Sarah saw several transfers.
Twenty-five thousand.
Fifty thousand.
One hundred thousand.
Then a photograph fell out.
It showed Adrian.
His late wife.
And a younger man Sarah didn't recognize.
On the back someone had written:
THREE VALES.
ONLY ONE DESERVES THE EMPIRE.
Sarah looked at Adrian.
“Who's the other man?”
His expression changed.
Not fear.
Something older.
Something bitter.
“My brother.”
Sarah stared.
“You have a brother?”
“Had.”
“What happened?”
Adrian met her eyes.
“He betrayed this family fifteen years ago.”
Vivienne whispered, “Adrian.”
But he continued.
“My father ordered him banished.”
Sarah looked at the photograph again.
“What was his name?”
“Julian.”
Mason's phone rang.
He answered.
His expression sharpened.
“When?”
Everyone watched him.
He lowered the phone.
“We found Thomas.”
“Alive?”
Mason looked at Ethan.
Then at Adrian.
“No.”
Sarah's stomach dropped.
“Where?”
“In the Hudson.”
Adrian's jaw clenched.
Mason continued.
“His hands were tied, but there was something in his jacket.”
He held up a transparent evidence bag.
Inside was another note.
Adrian read it.
Then slowly handed it to Sarah.
WELCOME HOME, LITTLE BROTHER.
She looked up.
“Julian?”
Adrian's face was terrifyingly calm.
“My brother isn't coming home.”
“Why?”
“Because Julian Vale died fourteen years ago.”
May you like
A beat.
“At least that's what I was told.”
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