Chapter 7: The Brother Hidden in the Shadows
My mother had paid a man to stay away from me.
A man who might be my brother.
I stood in the kitchen, unable to move, while Rebecca’s words repeated inside my head.
She was paying him to stay away from you.
Not to investigate him.
Not to help him.
Not to negotiate with him.
To keep him away.
For years, I had believed the Ashcombe family’s greatest secret was the amount of money behind our name.
I was wrong.
The greatest secret was the people who had been erased to protect it.
“Rebecca,” I said quietly, “how much?””
“What?””
“How much did she pay him?””
There was a pause.
“Over the last fifteen years?””
My stomach tightened.
Fifteen years.
“Tell me.””
“Almost three million dollars.””
I closed my eyes.
Three million dollars was not a casual payment.
It was not charity.
It was not a one-time agreement.
It was a leash.
“She paid him every year?””
“Yes.””
“From where?””
Rebecca hesitated.
“Personal accounts.””
My mother’s personal accounts.
Not company money.
Not family foundation funds.
Her own money.
That changed something.
Because if Eleanor Ashcombe had wanted to erase Julian completely, she had far more powerful methods.
She could have destroyed him financially.
She could have buried his identity.
She could have used lawyers and influence.
Instead, she paid him.
Why?
Fear.
Guilt.
Or both.
“Rebecca.””
“Yes?””
“Find Julian.””
“I’m already trying.””
“No.””
I looked toward the staircase.
Toward my sons.
“Find him before anyone else does.””
“I understand.””
“And Rebecca?””
“Yes?””
“Do not tell my mother.””
A pause.
“Dorian, if she is involved—”
“I know.””
My voice became harder.
“But I need to know what she knows before she knows what I know.””
After ending the call, I looked at Genevieve.
She was sitting at the kitchen table, staring at her hands.
For the first time since I met her, she looked small.
Not powerful.
Not calculated.
Just lost.
“Why didn’t you tell me about the money?”” I asked.
She looked up.
“I was ashamed.””
“Five hundred thousand dollars is not something people forget to mention.””
“I know.””
“Then why?””
She swallowed.
“Because at first, I thought she was giving me an opportunity.””
I stared at her.
“An opportunity?””
“She made it sound like she was protecting you.””
My expression hardened.
“She said that?””
“Yes.””
Genevieve looked down.
“She told me you had spent your entire life surrounded by people who wanted something from you.””
I almost laughed.
Because that part was true.
“She said you needed someone who wasn’t impressed by your money.””
“And you believed her?””
“Yes.””
“Why?””
“Because she was right.””
That answer caught me off guard.
Genevieve continued.
“She told me not to ask about your wealth. She told me not to let you buy my affection. She told me the only way to prove I loved you was to love the parts of your life that had nothing to do with money.””
I said nothing.
Because those words sounded exactly like something my mother would say.
And that frightened me.
“Then what changed?”” I asked.
Genevieve’s eyes filled with tears.
“Adrian.””
I waited.
“He told me Eleanor wasn’t protecting you.””
“What did he say?””
“He said she was controlling you.””
My jaw tightened.
“And you believed him.””
“I didn’t know who to believe.””
“No.””
I looked at her.
“You chose to believe the person who gave you power.””
She flinched.
Because it was true.
“I was wrong.””
“Yes.””
A tear fell down her cheek.
“I know.””
The strange thing was, I believed her.
Not completely.
Not enough to forgive her.
But enough to know she had been manipulated.
And that made everything more complicated.
Because the person I thought was my enemy might have been another victim.
A dangerous one.
But still a victim.
I walked upstairs to check on my sons.
Clara was sitting beside the crib area, watching them sleep.
Everett had one small hand wrapped around a stuffed bear.
Nico was lying on his side, peaceful and unaware that adults had spent days fighting over his future.
I stood there for a long time.
Then Clara spoke softly.
“They’re okay.””
I nodded.
“I’m sorry.””
She looked surprised.
“For what?””
“For not seeing it sooner.””
Her expression softened.
“Mr. Ashcombe…”
“I brought someone into their lives who hurt them.””
Clara shook her head.
“You brought someone in because you wanted them to have more love.””
I looked at her.
“You don’t know that.””
“Yes, I do.””
She smiled sadly.
“Because every night before you went on business trips, you called three times just to hear them breathing.””
I looked away.
“I failed them.””
“No.””
Her voice became firm.
“You protected them today.””
I wanted to believe that.
But I knew the danger wasn’t over.
Someone had entered my house.
Someone had written a warning.
Someone knew about my family’s secrets.
And that person was getting closer.
The next afternoon, Rebecca arrived at the estate.
She brought documents.
Lots of them.
She placed them on my dining table.
“I found Julian.””
I looked up immediately.
“Where?””
“San Francisco.””
“Alive?””
“Yes.””
“Why didn’t he leave?””
Rebecca opened a folder.
“Because he wasn’t hiding from the Ashcombes.””
I frowned.
“What does that mean?””
“He’s been trying to contact your family for years.””
I stared at her.
“What?””
She handed me a photograph.
A man stood outside an old office building.
Late forties.
Dark hair.
A familiar face.
Not identical to mine.
But something about his eyes felt strangely familiar.
“Julian Mercer,” Rebecca said.
I studied the picture.
“He looks like him.””
She knew who I meant.
“My father?””
“Yes.””
The room became silent.
Rebecca continued.
“Julian claims your father knew about him.””
“And my mother?””
“Your mother knew after your father died.””
I looked at the documents.
“Then why hide him?””
Rebecca opened another page.
“This is the part that doesn’t make sense.””
“What?””
“Your mother didn’t start paying Julian until after your father’s death.””
I frowned.
“Meaning?””
“Meaning she wasn’t protecting your father’s reputation.””
She looked at me.
“She was protecting you.””
I shook my head.
“From what?””
Rebecca slid another document across the table.
It was old.
Very old.
A legal agreement.
My eyes moved to the date.
Three months after my father died.
“What is this?””
“A settlement agreement.””
“With Julian?””
“Yes.””
I read the first page.
Then stopped.
Because one sentence stood out.
*In exchange for permanent silence regarding the identity and inheritance rights of Julian Mercer, Eleanor Ashcombe agrees to compensate him annually.*
Inheritance rights.
I looked at Rebecca.
“Julian had a claim?””
“Yes.””
“How?””
“Because according to this document, your grandfather acknowledged him privately.””
My heartbeat increased.
“So Julian was legally my father’s son.””
“Yes.””
“And he could inherit?””
“Possibly.””
I looked toward the window.
Everything I knew about my family was changing.
“Then why didn’t he?””
Rebecca pointed to another section.
“Because he signed away his claim.””
“Why?””
She looked at me.
“That’s what we need to ask him.””
I stood.
“Where is he?””
“Dorian—”
“Where?””
She sighed.
“He agreed to meet.””
“When?””
“Tonight.””
I grabbed my jacket.
Before leaving, I stopped.
“Rebecca.””
“Yes?””
“Does Genevieve know?””
“No.””
“Does my mother?””
Another pause.
“No.””
That answer bothered me.
Because if Julian had been searching for the Ashcombes for years, someone would have noticed.
Someone would have known.
When I arrived at the small café in downtown San Francisco, I saw him immediately.
Julian Mercer.
My father’s hidden son.
My unknown brother.
He stood when I approached.
For several seconds, we just looked at each other.
Then he said:
“You’re exactly like him.””
I sat down.
“My father?””
Julian nodded.
“Same eyes.””
I didn’t know what to say.
Finally, I asked:
“Why did you stay away?””
His expression changed.
Pain crossed his face.
“Because I was asked to.””
“By my mother?””
“Yes.””
“Why?””
Julian looked down.
Then he reached into his coat and placed an old photograph on the table.
It showed my father.
A younger Eleanor.
And a baby.
My hands went cold.
“That’s you,” I whispered.
Julian nodded.
Then he said the sentence that changed everything.
“Your mother didn’t pay me to stay away because she hated me, Dorian.””
I looked at him.
“Then why?””
His eyes met mine.
“Because she knew what your father did before he died.””
I froze.
“What did he do?””
Julian’s voice dropped.
“He left behind a second family.””
A pause.
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Then:
“And someone killed him to keep that secret buried.””
