Chapter 3
The words burned themselves into Elara’s brain.
Twins.
She had a brother.
He’d been standing ten feet away from her all night.
Being married off to her best friend.
Raised by the woman who’d killed their mother.
“No,” she said again, stepping back. “Margaret would never. She hated my mom. Why would she raise her son?”
“Because her own baby died the same day we were born,” Julian said. His voice was breaking. “My nurse wrote it all down. Margaret’s son was stillborn. She found out Clara had twins—two healthy babies, a boy and a girl. She made a deal with Arthur. He’d let her take the boy. She’d give him the board seat. They’d tell Clara the boy died at birth. Then when Clara wouldn’t sign over the patent, they burned the lab down.”
Lila gasped.
Her hand flew to her mouth.
Elara stared at Julian.
Really stared.
The same curve of the jaw.
The same flecks of gold in their brown eyes.
The same little scar above the left eyebrow—she’d fallen off her bike when she was seven; he’d told her he’d fallen down a flight of stairs as a toddler.
All the little things she’d brushed off as coincidence.
They weren’t coincidence.
They were blood.
Elara reached up.
Touched the scar above her eyebrow.
Julian did the same.
Automatically.
Like muscle memory.
“I felt it,” Julian said, his voice cracking. “When you walked into the rehearsal dinner last night. I felt like I’d known you my whole life. I told Lila it was weird. She said I was just nervous about the wedding.”
He took a step closer.
“I’m so sorry,” he said. “For everything she did. For my whole life being a lie. For almost marrying Lila when I’m your brother. God, Elara, I’m so sorry.”
Elara didn’t say anything.
She couldn’t.
Her throat was too tight.
All her life, she’d dreamed of having family.
Of someone who’d love her no matter what.
And now she had him.
But he came with a lifetime of pain attached.
Mr. Torres cleared his throat.
“Ms. Voss,” he said gently. “The feds are here to take statements. They want to know if you want to press additional charges for the kidnapping.”
Elara looked at Julian.
“Did you know?” she asked him. “Any of it?”
Julian shook his head so hard his neck cracked.
“Not a word,” he said. “I thought my dad died when I was five. I thought Margaret was my real mom. I thought Arthur was just my uncle’s annoying friend who came over for holidays. I had no idea.”
Elara nodded.
She turned to Mr. Torres.
“No kidnapping charges,” she said. “Julian was a victim too. Just like me.”
Before Mr. Torres could answer, a scream cut through the room.
It came from the hallway.
A second later, Margaret burst back into the ballroom.
She’d somehow gotten free of the agents.
Her hair was wild.
Her dress was torn.
In her hand, she held a gun.
The room went dead silent.
Everyone dropped to the floor.
Except Elara.
And Julian.
And Lila.
“Stay back!” Margaret screamed, waving the gun. “Nobody moves! I’m not going to prison for some dead whore and her brats!”
She pointed the gun straight at Elara.
“You think you won?” she shrieked. “You think taking my money and my son fixes anything? Your mom was weak! She cried when I told her I’d take Julian! She begged me not to hurt him! That’s why she died! She was too soft to live in this world!”
Julian stepped in front of Elara.
“Put the gun down, Margaret,” he said. His voice was steady. Scary steady. “You’ve hurt enough people.”
Margaret laughed.
A high, insane sound.
“Hurt?” she said. “I gave you everything! I gave you the best schools! The best clothes! A name people respect! And you throw it all away for a girl who grew up in the gutter?”
“She’s my sister,” Julian said.
“Your sister is nothing!” Margaret screamed. “And you’re nothing without me! You think anyone’s gonna care about you now? You’re Clara Bennett’s bastard! You’re a mistake!”
She pulled the trigger.
The shot was deafening.
Lila screamed.
Julian didn’t flinch.
Because the bullet didn’t hit him.
It hit the crystal chandelier above their heads.
Thousands of tiny shards rained down.
Elara grabbed Julian’s arm.
Pulled him to the side just as Margaret fired again.
The bullet embedded itself in the wall where his head had been a second before.
“Margaret, stop!” Arthur shouted. He’d broken free of his agents too. He ran between her and the kids. “You can’t shoot them! They’re your family!”
“Family?” Margaret spat. “I don’t have family! I have assets! And you’re all bad investments!”
She fired at Arthur.
He went down.
A red stain spread across his chest.
“Dad!” Julian screamed.
He tried to run to him.
Elara held him back.
“Wait!” she said. “She’ll kill you!”
Margaret advanced on them.
The gun shook in her hand.
“First you,” she said, pointing at Elara. “Then the boy. Then the little bride. And then I’ll burn this whole place to the ground just like I burned your mother’s lab. We’ll all be together in hell.”
She was three feet away now.
Her finger on the trigger.
Elara didn’t run.
She didn’t beg.
She looked Margaret dead in the eye.
“You’re right about one thing,” she said.
Margaret paused.
“What?”
“My mom was soft,” Elara said. “She was kind. She loved people even when they didn’t deserve it. But I’m not her.”
Elara moved faster than anyone could see.
She’d spent ten years in foster homes.
Ten years learning to fight before she could walk properly.
Ten years making sure no one ever hurt her again.
She grabbed Margaret’s wrist.
Twisted it hard.
The gun clattered to the floor.
Margaret howled in pain.
Elara kicked the gun across the room.
Then she punched Margaret square in the jaw.
The older woman went down like a sack of bricks.
The agents swarmed her.
Cuffed her.
Dragged her away, screaming and spitting.
Elara stood over her.
Chest heaving.
Knuckle split open.
“Never,” she said, quiet enough only Margaret could hear. “Never talk about my mother again.”
She turned to Arthur.
He was still alive.
Barely.
Julian was kneeling next to him, pressing his jacket to the wound.
“Dad,” Julian was saying. “Stay with me. Help is coming.”
Arthur looked up.
His eyes found Elara.
He reached for her hand.
She hesitated.
Then took it.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered. Blood bubbled from his lips. “I was scared. She said she’d kill both of you if I didn’t do what she said. I thought… I thought if I gave her what she wanted, she’d leave you alone. I’m so sorry, baby girl. I love you. Both of you.”
His hand went limp.
The paramedics burst through the doors.
They pulled Julian away.
Pushed Elara back.
Worked on Arthur for twenty minutes.
Then the lead paramedic looked up.
Shook his head.
“Time of death,” he said. “12:47 AM.”
Elara stood there.
Her father was dead.
The woman who’d killed her mom was in custody.
She had a brother she’d never known existed.
Her best friend’s wedding was destroyed.
May you like
And somewhere in the back of her mind, a small voice whispered:
This is only the beginning.
