CHAPTER 5 — THE BROTHER WHO DIED
CHAPTER 5 — THE BROTHER WHO DIED
For several seconds, Ethan could hear nothing.
Not the wind.
Not Marcus breathing behind him.
Not Amelia's frightened voice somewhere inside the house.
Only one sentence remained in his mind.
Your mother.
His mother had been dead for nineteen years.
He had watched the coffin disappear beneath the earth.
He had stood beside his father while the priest spoke.
He had been sixteen years old.
His mother, Margaret Blackwood, had supposedly died after a sudden cerebral hemorrhage.
There had never been an investigation.
Never a question.
Richard had simply told Ethan that grief was something a Blackwood man carried privately.
Now an elderly nurse was standing in his garden, telling him that his dead mother had taken his daughter.
Ethan stepped forward.
“You're lying.”
Eleanor didn't flinch.
“I wish I were.”
“My mother is dead.”
“I know what they told you.”
“They?”
Eleanor's eyes filled with sorrow.
“Your father.”
Ethan's expression hardened.
“You're saying my father lied about my mother's death?”
“Yes.”
“Then where is she?”
Eleanor looked toward the mansion.
“I don't know.”
“You expect me to believe that?”
“I expect you to listen.”
Ethan moved closer.
“My daughter is missing.”
“I know.”
“My wife has been imprisoned for seven years.”
“I know.”
“Someone poisoned me.”
“I know.”
“My brother supposedly died before I was old enough to remember him.”
Eleanor went completely still.
Ethan noticed.
“What?”
She looked at him.
“Who told you about your brother?”
Ethan frowned.
“What brother?”
“You said your brother died.”
“I don't have a brother.”
Eleanor's face changed.
“That isn't what I heard.”
Ethan's pulse accelerated.
“Then tell me what you know.”
Eleanor took a breath.
“Your family had two sons.”
The world seemed to stop.
“Ethan…”
Amelia's voice came from behind him.
He turned.
She stood in the doorway.
Her face was pale.
Eleanor looked at her.
“You remember.”
Amelia slowly nodded.
“Yes.”
Ethan stared between them.
“You both knew?”
Neither answered.
His voice rose.
“You both knew?”
Amelia stepped forward.
“Ethan, I was going to tell you.”
“When?”
“When I was certain.”
“Certain about what?”
“That your brother was alive.”
Ethan froze.
“Alive?”
Amelia nodded.
Eleanor whispered:
“Alexander Blackwood did not die at eleven months.”
THE BROTHER WHO NEVER EXISTED
Ethan walked back into the mansion.
Nobody followed him at first.
He needed space.
He needed air.
He needed something in his life that wasn't another lie.
He entered his father's old study.
The room had remained untouched since Richard's death.
Dark wood.
Leather chairs.
A massive desk.
Bookshelves filled with old financial records.
And above the fireplace—
a family portrait.
Ethan stared at it.
Richard stood in the center.
Margaret beside him.
Ethan as a teenager stood at his father's right.
He had seen that photograph hundreds of times.
But now he noticed something he had never questioned.
There was empty space beside him.
A strange amount of empty space.
Enough for another child.
Ethan approached the portrait.
He touched the frame.
“Why?”
Amelia entered quietly.
“Your father removed him.”
“Who?”
“Alexander.”
Ethan turned.
“Tell me everything.”
Amelia nodded.
“When I discovered the second child's records, I also found another file.”
“Alexander's?”
“Yes.”
“He was your father's first son.”
“Yes.”
“Older than me?”
“By two years.”
Ethan stared at her.
“Then why did I never know him?”
“Because Richard erased him.”
“Why?”
Amelia looked at the portrait.
“Because Alexander was born with a condition your father considered dangerous.”
“What condition?”
“Something connected to the Blackwood bloodline.”
Ethan remembered the genetic reports.
The research.
The disease.
The trust.
“So Alexander was sick.”
“Yes.”
“Did he die?”
“No.”
“Then where did he go?”
Amelia hesitated.
“Your mother took him.”
Ethan's heart stopped.
“My mother?”
“Yes.”
“She saved him?”
“I believe so.”
“From Richard?”
“Yes.”
Ethan looked at the portrait again.
“My mother died when I was sixteen.”
Amelia nodded.
“That's what Richard wanted you to believe.”
MARGARET BLACKWOOD
Ethan had one memory of his mother that suddenly seemed different.
He was nine years old.
He had woken during a thunderstorm.
He remembered walking downstairs.
His mother was sitting in the library.
She was crying.
Not loudly.
Silently.
In front of her was a photograph.
Ethan had asked:
“Mommy, why are you crying?”
She immediately wiped her face.
“I'm not.”
“Who is that?”
She had turned the photograph over.
“No one.”
He remembered that now.
The photograph had shown a baby.
A baby with dark hair.
A baby wearing a silver bracelet.
Ethan had forgotten the image almost immediately.
Because the next morning, the photograph was gone.
Now he knew.
It had been Alexander.
His mother had been mourning a child who supposedly didn't exist.
THE HIDDEN ROOM
Eleanor led Ethan downstairs.
Not to the basement.
Beyond it.
Behind a false wall.
She entered a sequence into an old keypad.
The wall opened.
A narrow staircase descended into darkness.
Ethan stared.
“How long has this been here?”
“Since before you were born.”
“Who built it?”
“Your grandfather.”
They descended.
At the bottom was a small room.
There were shelves.
Boxes.
Medical equipment.
Photographs.
And dozens of letters.
Ethan picked up the first.
The handwriting was his mother's.
Richard,
I will not allow you to hurt our son.
The next:
Alexander is not a monster.
Another:
If you touch him again, I will tell Ethan everything.
Ethan's hands began shaking.
Then he found a photograph.
His mother was holding a baby.
Alexander.
On the back:
My firstborn. My beautiful boy.
Ethan closed his eyes.
A tear slipped down his cheek.
He had spent nineteen years believing his mother died.
She had spent those years protecting the brother he had never known.
THE NIGHT MARGARET DIED
Eleanor sat down.
“I was there.”
Ethan looked at her.
“At what?”
“The night Margaret disappeared.”
Ethan stopped.
“Disappeared?”
“She wasn't killed.”
“What happened?”
“Richard found out she had taken Alexander.”
“Where?”
“Out of the country.”
Ethan stared.
“Where did she take him?”
“Switzerland.”
“Why?”
“There was a doctor there who believed he could treat Alexander.”
“Did he survive?”
Eleanor nodded.
“He survived.”
Ethan's voice became barely audible.
“Where is he now?”
“I don't know.”
“But you said he's alive.”
“He was alive the last time I saw him.”
“When?”
“Two years ago.”
Ethan's eyes widened.
“Two years?”
Eleanor nodded.
“Someone contacted me.”
“Who?”
“Alexander.”
“What did he say?”
Eleanor looked toward Amelia.
“He told me your family had begun searching for Lily.”
Ethan frowned.
“Why would Alexander care about Lily?”
“Because he knew what she was.”
“The heir?”
“No.”
Eleanor's voice dropped.
“The cure.”
THE TWO CHILDREN
Eleanor opened another file.
Inside were medical charts.
Alexander.
Lily.
Emma.
Three generations of Blackwoods.
Three genetic profiles.
One pattern connected them all.
Ethan studied the pages.
“Why are these three connected?”
Eleanor pointed.
“Alexander carried the original mutation.”
“Lily carries the resistance.”
“Emma carries something else.”
“What?”
“A stabilizing gene.”
Ethan looked at her.
“So the three of them…”
“Together, their genetic profiles may complete the treatment your grandfather spent his life searching for.”
Ethan's face hardened.
“That's why everyone wants them.”
“Yes.”
“Victor wants Lily.”
“Someone wants Emma.”
“And Alexander?”
“He wants neither.”
“Then what does he want?”
Eleanor looked at him.
“To destroy the research.”
“Why?”
“Because he believes your family has no right to use his blood.”
Ethan understood.
Alexander hadn't been raised as an heir.
He had been raised as a specimen.
A child whose illness became an obsession.
A secret hidden beneath the Blackwood empire.
THE MAN AT THE STATION
Ethan remembered Alexander's face on the security screen.
The scar.
The eyes.
The black ring.
His brother had looked at him with something between anger and sadness.
Now Ethan understood why.
Alexander had spent his life believing Ethan was part of the family that had abandoned him.
But Ethan had been a child too.
A prisoner of the same lies.
Ethan turned toward Eleanor.
“Where is he?”
“I don't know.”
“Then why did he contact you?”
“He wanted me to warn you.”
“About what?”
Eleanor's expression became grim.
“He said your father left something behind.”
“What?”
“A final experiment.”
Ethan's stomach tightened.
“Where?”
Eleanor pointed toward the floor.
“Under this house.”
THE ROOM BENEATH THE HOUSE
They found the entrance behind Richard's desk.
A hidden mechanism opened a steel door.
Inside was a laboratory.
Not old.
Not abandoned.
Recent.
The equipment was still running.
Ethan stared.
Someone had been using it.
Marcus immediately raised his weapon.
“Someone's been here.”
Ethan walked deeper.
There were refrigerated storage units.
Computer terminals.
Medical files.
And photographs.
One photograph showed Lily.
Another showed Emma.
Another showed Alexander.
Then Ethan saw himself.
A photograph taken only three weeks earlier.
He was standing outside the mansion.
Someone had been watching him.
Another photograph showed Amelia.
Another showed Nora.
Then—
one showed Margaret.
Ethan froze.
The photograph had been taken recently.
Not nineteen years ago.
Not a memory.
Recently.
His mother was standing outside a medical facility.
Alive.
Ethan's hands began trembling.
“She's alive.”
Amelia whispered:
“Yes.”
He looked at Eleanor.
“You knew.”
Eleanor nodded.
“I suspected.”
“Why didn't you tell me?”
“Because every person who tried to find her disappeared.”
Ethan turned toward the computer.
“Find the facility.”
Marcus started working.
Within seconds, a location appeared.
A private neurological center.
Two hundred miles away.
Ethan grabbed his coat.
“We're going.”
THE WOMAN BEHIND THE GLASS
The facility was surrounded by security.
No signs.
No public records.
No patients listed.
Ethan walked through the entrance with Marcus, Amelia, Eleanor, and Daniel.
The receptionist looked at him.
“Mr. Blackwood.”
Ethan stopped.
“You know me.”
“Yes.”
“Where is my mother?”
The receptionist's face went pale.
“I can't discuss patients.”
“You can.”
He placed a photograph on the desk.
His mother.
Alive.
“Where is she?”
The receptionist looked toward a security guard.
Then whispered:
“Room 317.”
Ethan didn't wait.
He ran upstairs.
Room 317 was behind reinforced glass.
A woman sat inside.
Her hair was gray.
Her body thinner.
But Ethan knew her immediately.
“Mom.”
The woman slowly lifted her head.
She stared at him.
For several seconds, neither spoke.
Then her eyes filled with tears.
“Ethan?”
He pressed his hand against the glass.
“Mom.”
She stood.
She walked toward him.
Her hand touched the glass.
“You grew up.”
Ethan's eyes burned.
“You're alive.”
“I know.”
“Why?”
Margaret began crying.
“Because your father wanted me dead.”
Ethan looked toward the locked door.
“Open it.”
Margaret shook her head.
“Don't.”
“Why?”
“Because the people who kept me here are still watching.”
“Who?”
She looked over Ethan's shoulder.
Her face suddenly changed.
“Ethan.”
“What?”
“Where is Lily?”
His blood went cold.
“She was kidnapped.”
Margaret closed her eyes.
“Oh God.”
“You know where she is?”
“No.”
“Then what do you know?”
Margaret looked at him.
“Victor wasn't the one who took her.”
Ethan froze.
“Who did?”
Margaret whispered:
“Your brother.”
ALEXANDER'S REAL PLAN
Ethan stepped back.
“Alexander?”
Margaret nodded.
“He took Lily because he believes she is the key to destroying the Blackwood research.”
“But he has Emma.”
“No.”
Margaret shook her head.
“Emma isn't with him.”
“Then where is she?”
Margaret's expression became terrified.
“She is with the people who created the research.”
Ethan stared.
“Who?”
Margaret looked toward the ceiling camera.
Then whispered:
“The Blackwood Foundation.”
“But that's my family's foundation.”
“No.”
Her voice trembled.
“It hasn't belonged to your family for years.”
Ethan felt the ground beneath him disappear.
“Who owns it?”
Margaret looked him directly in the eyes.
“The man who has been funding everything.”
“Victor?”
“No.”
“Richard?”
“No.”
“Then who?”
Margaret stepped closer to the glass.
“The person who created the trust.”
Ethan frowned.
“My grandfather?”
Margaret shook her head.
“Your great-grandfather.”
“But he's dead.”
Margaret's eyes filled with fear.
“Everyone who is supposed to be dead in your family…”
She paused.
“…isn't.”
THE BROTHER WHO RETURNED
The lights suddenly went out.
The facility alarms began screaming.
Marcus drew his weapon.
“Sir!”
The emergency lights came on.
Red.
Flashing.
Then every screen in the hallway activated.
Alexander appeared.
His face was calm.
“Hello, Ethan.”
Ethan stepped toward the nearest screen.
“Where is my daughter?”
Alexander smiled sadly.
“Which one?”
“Lily.”
“She is safe.”
“Bring her to me.”
“I will.”
“When?”
“When you understand why I took her.”
“You don't get to decide.”
“I already did.”
Ethan's anger rose.
“You've spent years manipulating my family.”
Alexander shook his head.
“No.”
“I've spent years trying to survive it.”
Ethan stared.
Alexander's expression hardened.
“Your father killed my childhood.”
“He killed my mother.”
“He stole my name.”
“He turned me into a medical experiment.”
“And now he wants to do the same thing to your daughters.”
Ethan's voice cracked.
“Then help me stop him.”
Alexander became silent.
For the first time, something vulnerable appeared in his eyes.
“Do you really mean that?”
“Yes.”
“Even after what I did?”
“You took my daughter.”
“I saved her.”
“You kidnapped her.”
“I saved her from the people coming for her.”
Ethan clenched his fists.
“Then bring her home.”
Alexander looked directly into the camera.
“I will.”
A pause.
“But first, you need to know the truth about your father.”
“What truth?”
Alexander smiled.
“Richard Blackwood didn't die fifteen years ago.”
Ethan froze.
“What?”
“He's alive.”
The screen went black.
THE MAN WHO SHOULD HAVE BEEN DEAD
Margaret sank into a chair.
Ethan stared at her.
“Is he alive?”
She nodded.
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“I don't know.”
“You knew.”
“Yes.”
“You've known for nineteen years?”
Margaret cried.
“I was trying to protect you.”
“From him?”
“Yes.”
“Then why didn't you tell me?”
“Because he promised to kill you.”
Ethan's face hardened.
“He threatened his own son?”
“He threatened everyone.”
“Where is he?”
Margaret looked at Eleanor.
Eleanor lowered her head.
Then Margaret whispered:
“He has been watching you from the beginning.”
Ethan's phone suddenly vibrated.
Unknown number.
One message.
A photograph.
Ethan opened it.
His blood ran cold.
It showed Lily.
Alive.
Sitting at a table.
Beside her was Emma.
Two little girls.
Holding hands.
Ethan's heart almost stopped.
But the photograph contained one more person.
An older man stood behind them.
Gray hair.
Cold eyes.
A familiar face.
Richard Blackwood.
Beneath the photograph was a message:
COME TO THE OLD BLACKWOOD ESTATE.
Another appeared.
COME ALONE.
Then a final message:
OR YOUR DAUGHTERS WILL LEARN WHAT THEIR GRANDFATHER DID TO THEIR MOTHER.
Ethan looked at Amelia.
She was already crying.
“Ethan…”
“What?”
“There is something I never told you about the night of the fire.”
He stared at her.
“What?”
Amelia took a shaking breath.
“I saw Richard.”
“You saw him?”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“In the maternity ward.”
Ethan's face changed.
“What was he doing?”
Amelia whispered:
“He was holding Emma.”
Ethan stopped breathing.
“And he wasn't trying to kill her.”
“What was he doing?”
“He was crying.”
Silence.
Then Amelia said the words that shattered Ethan all over again.
“Because he told me…”
May you like
She wiped her tears.
“…that Emma was the only child he had ever loved.”
