I grip the back of the couch to keep from swaying. A vise clamps around my chest, squeezing until I can’t breathe. He’s alive. My brother is alive.
“How?” I manage through numb lips.
Mother takes a careful sip before answering. “The bullet missed anything vital. That’s my guess. He lost a lot of blood, but apparently survived.”
“But we buried him.” My voice sounds distant, like it belongs to someone else. “There was a funeral. A body. I fucking saw him in that casket!”
“A convincing show, it seems.” She pulls out her phone. “Bianca brought these. She’s been quite resourceful in gathering her proof.”
She slides her phone across the coffee table, and I pick it up with hands that won’t stop shaking. The first photo shows an estate, I’m guessing Lorenzo’s. The second shows the garden, and a figure at its edge.
Adrian.
My lungs constrict. It’s unmistakably him—the same rigid posture as he tosses a ball to a small child I don’trecognize. He’s wearing a suit, of course. Some things never change.
I swipe to the next photo and the world continues to implode around me.
Aurelia. Laughing. Her head thrown back, red hair catching the sunlight, eyes crinkled with genuine joy. I haven’t seen her look like that in years. Maybe ever.
And Adrian is beside her, his arm draped casually around her shoulders, his mouth curved in a rare smile.
“Keep going,” Mother urges softly.
The next image is blurrier, taken from farther away. They’re sitting at a table on a patio, heads bent close together like conspirators. Lorenzo is in the background with the child.
And the next image?—
My stomach heaves. Adrian and Aurelia kissing as if they’re drowning and the other is air.
“Enough,” I rasp, dropping the phone like it’s burned me. “I get the fucking point.”
“I’m so sorry, dear.” Mother moves to me, encouraging me to sit on the couch with her. She rests a calming hand on my shoulder. “I can’t imagine how painful this must be. I… I’m also hurt by Adrian’s actions. How could he do this to us?”
Pain doesn’t begin to cover it. It feels like someone’s taken a dull blade and is slowly, methodically carving out my insides. My brother is alive—a fact that should bring joy—but he’s with the woman I love.Mywoman. The woman who supposedly hated him and was miserable with him for a decade.
“I don’t understand,” I say, running a hand throughmy hair. “She broke up with him. She was always so fucking unhappy with him. Why help fake his death and run away together?”
Mother’s lips press into a thin line. “I’ve been thinking about that. I believe they’ve been planning this for quite some time.”
“Planning what?”
“Think about it.” Her tone is careful, as if explaining something to a child. “Adrian was next in line to lead. You never wanted any part of the Consortium. Then suddenly, Adrian is ‘killed,’ and you’re forced to step up—a position you were completely unprepared for.”
The pieces shift in my mind, a kaleidoscope rearranging into a pattern that makes my blood run cold. “You think they set me up to fail?”
Mother sighs. “I think Adrian always resented being the heir, but he knew if he simply walked away, Lucian would never let him live. And Aurelia… well, she spent ten years with Adrian. She knew every detail of our business. She had access. Information.”
“No,” I shake my head, denying what she’s saying even as doubt creeps in. “No.”
“Didn’t she always crave her freedom? Or maybe she truly did love him all along, and her interest in you was just another part of their manipulation.”
Something inside me rebels against this. Before everything that happened, Aurelia was too needy for me. We were always pulled to one another. The sex was explosive. She opened up to me about things I’m sure she never told Adrian.
But then again, I’ve been wrong about her before. Christ, have I been wrong about everything?
“So they want…?” I ask, desperation clawing at my throat.
Mother’s eyes meet mine, steady and sure. “I’m sorry to say this, but they wanted to humiliate you. She was with him for ten years, which is plenty of time to make big plans together. They both want the Consortium to fail, it seems. And they expect you to achieve that goal.”
