Chapter 8 - The Choice Adrian MadeEverything happened at once.
Rebecca fired.
Adrian shoved me into the safe room.
The bullet struck the reinforced doorframe.
Marcus returned fire.
Celeste screamed, “Mom!”
Rebecca disappeared around the hallway corner.
Adrian slammed the steel door.
I grabbed him.
“Celeste is outside.”
“So is Marcus.”
“She’s my sister.”
“She tried to destroy our marriage.”
“She’s still my sister.”
The words surprised me.
Adrian stared.
Then pressed the comm panel.
“Marcus?”
Static.
Nothing.
I paced.
The safe room had independent power, cameras, medical supplies, water, and enough food to survive several days.
Of course Adrian had a billionaire panic room.
I hated it.
I hated every second trapped behind steel while people fought outside.
Adrian checked the camera feed.
Three screens were dead.
One showed the garage.
Another showed the ocean.
Then the hallway feed returned.
Celeste lay against the wall.
Blood near her shoulder.
Marcus crouched beside her.
Alive.
Rebecca was gone.
“Open it.”
“Mara—”
“Adrian.”
He looked at Celeste.
Then at me.
He opened the door.
Marcus rushed inside carrying Celeste.
“Through-and-through wound. Upper arm.”
Adrian locked the room again.
I helped apply pressure while Marcus contacted police through the satellite system.
“Rebecca escaped toward the east side,” Marcus said.
“Boat?” Adrian asked.
“Possibly.”
Celeste groaned.
“She won’t leave.”
“How do you know?” I asked.
“Because she didn’t come to kill me.”
Her eyes found mine.
“She came for you.”
Adrian’s face became frighteningly calm.
“No.”
Celeste almost smiled.
“You can’t negotiate with my mother.”
“I’m not planning to.”
Police arrived twelve minutes later.
Rebecca had vanished.
A small service boat was missing from the private dock.
The Coast Guard began searching.
By dawn, Celeste was in a hospital.
We moved to another secure property.
I was tired of properties.
Tired of guards.
Tired of secrets.
Most of all, tired of Adrian watching me as though I might disappear.
That evening, I found him alone on the balcony.
The Atlantic crashed below.
“You should be inside,” he said.
“If Samuel calls you again, I’m firing him.”
“You can’t fire my doctor.”
“I can try.”
I stood beside him.
For a while, neither of us spoke.
Then I asked, “Why did you come home that night?”
“To end our marriage.”
“I know what you brought. I’m asking why that night.”
He looked toward the water.
“Because I couldn’t stay away anymore.”
I waited.
“The evidence said you betrayed me. Every analyst confirmed it. Julian told me you and Lucas were planning to force a Hartwell-Vale merger. Celeste showed me communication records suggesting you had stopped calling after the second week.”
“I didn’t.”
“I know.”
“Then why wait thirteen weeks?”
His jaw tightened.
“Because each day I told myself tomorrow I’d stop loving you.”
My chest hurt.
“Did it work?”
“No.”
The answer was immediate.
“I woke up thinking about you. I went to sleep thinking about you. I checked Blackthorn’s exterior security feed from hotel rooms because I wanted to see whether your bedroom light was on.”
I stared at him.
“You watched my house?”
“Yes.”
“That’s deeply unsettling.”
“I know.”
“Continue.”
He almost smiled.
Then it vanished.
“I returned intending to force myself to finish it. The annulment papers were… armor.”
“Against me?”
“Against myself.”
I looked away.
“That doesn’t make what you did less cruel.”
“No.”
“You abandoned me.”
“Yes.”
“When I needed you.”
“Yes.”
“You believed strangers before asking your wife one question.”
“Yes.”
His refusal to defend himself took some of the fuel from my anger.
“I don’t know how to trust you.”
“I know.”
“Stop saying that.”
“All right.”
“What do you want?”
His answer surprised me.
“Nothing.”
“Nothing?”
“I want you safe. I want our children safe. After that, if you tell me to leave, I leave.”
“You ripped up the annulment papers.”
“I can file again.”
The idea hurt.
I hated that it hurt.
“Would you?”
“If you wanted.”
I studied him.
Three months earlier, I would have sworn Adrian would fight heaven itself rather than surrender something he loved.
Maybe love wasn’t holding someone.
Maybe sometimes it was letting them choose.
“Why did you marry me?” I asked.
He turned.
“What?”
“Answer.”
“Because you laughed at me.”
“That cannot be the reason.”
“It started there.”
I remembered our first meeting.
A charity auction.
Adrian had bid $200,000 for an ugly sculpture because he misunderstood which item was being auctioned.
I laughed so hard champagne came out my nose.
He had glared at me.
Then bought the sculpture anyway.
“I married you,” he said, “because you were the first person in years who didn’t want anything from Adrian Vale.”
“I wanted the ugly sculpture.”
“You told me to burn it.”
“It deserved death.”
This time he smiled.
Small.
Real.
It disappeared slowly.
“I married you because Blackthorn felt like home when you were there. Because your father beat me at chess and cheated badly. Because you sing when you cook and never realize it.”
My eyes burned.
“Because when I imagined being seventy, you were still annoying me.”
I laughed through tears.
“Romantic.”
“I had thirteen weeks to improve the speech.”
Silence settled.
Then I asked, “What if I can’t forgive you?”
“I love you anyway.”
That was worse.
I turned toward the ocean before he saw me cry.
His phone rang.
Marcus.
Adrian answered.
They had found Rebecca’s boat.
Empty.
Near a harbor south of Portland.
Inside was a phone.
On it, one unsent video.
Rebecca sat in front of the camera.
She spoke directly to me.
“Mara Hartwell, your father stole thirty-eight years of my life. He promised me a future, then chose another woman. He promised Celeste a father, then chose you. Men like Henry and Adrian always choose the convenient family.”
Adrian’s grip tightened.
Rebecca continued.
“You think you won because Adrian returned when he learned you were pregnant. Ask yourself whether he returned for you or for his heirs.”
I felt the words like poison.
She smiled into the camera.
“History repeats itself.”
The video ended.
Adrian immediately said, “Don’t.”
I looked at him.
“Don’t what?”
“Believe her.”
“Why not? You did come home to annul our marriage.”
“Before I knew.”
“And ripped the papers after you knew.”
Pain crossed his face.
I hated Rebecca for planting the question.
I hated Adrian because the question had somewhere to land.
He stepped closer.
“I ripped them because in that moment I realized how much damage my absence had done.”
“Not because of the babies?”
“They shocked me. They terrified me. I loved them immediately.”
“And me?”
His voice broke.
“I never stopped.”
Before I could answer, my phone rang.
Unknown number.
Adrian saw it.
“Don’t answer.”
I did.
Rebecca’s voice.
“Hello, Mara.”
Adrian activated the recorder.
“What do you want?”
“To finish this privately.”
“Where are you?”
“Your father left something for Celeste. Something she deserves.”
“What?”
“A letter.”
My heart stopped.
“Where?”
“At Blackthorn.”
Adrian shook his head.
Rebecca continued.
“Midnight. Come alone.”
“No.”
She laughed.
“You will.”
“Why?”
“Because the letter contains Henry’s confession.”
My throat tightened.
“What confession?”
“How he really died.”
The line went dead.
Adrian said, “You are not going.”
“I am.”
“No.”
I stared at him.
“You don’t get to decide.”
“And you don’t get to walk into a trap.”
“We involve police.”
“Rebecca said alone.”
“She’s a murderer.”
“And she has my father’s final letter.”
Adrian’s voice rose.
“You matter more than a letter.”
“To you.”
“Yes.”
“To me, I get to decide what matters.”
Silence.
Then he nodded.
“You’re right.”
I hadn’t expected that.
“We do it your way,” he said. “But not recklessly.”
At 11:47 p.m., I entered Blackthorn House.
Alone.
At least, that was what Rebecca believed.
Federal agents surrounded the estate.
Marcus monitored my microphone.
Adrian waited in a vehicle two blocks away because Rebecca knew him too well.
The library door stood open.
Inside, one lamp burned.
Rebecca waited beside my father’s desk.
A sealed envelope lay before her.
“You came.”
“I want the letter.”
“You look like your mother.”
“People usually say my father.”
Her expression twisted.
“Of course they do.”
I stepped closer.
“Did you kill him?”
“No.”
The answer surprised me.
“Raymond?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“He betrayed me.”
“Lucas?”
“I ordered someone to frighten him.”
“Someone nearly killed him.”
“People are disappointingly incompetent.”
I felt sick.
“Give me the letter.”
Rebecca placed one hand over it.
“Your father wrote this two days before he died.”
“To whom?”
“Celeste.”
“Then why do you have it?”
“Because Raymond stole it.”
She smiled.
“Henry confessed everything.”
“What about his death?”
“Read.”
She pushed the envelope toward me.
I reached.
Then Rebecca pulled a gun.
“Unfortunately, you won’t leave with it.”
My heartbeat thundered.
“You said you wanted me to know.”
“I wanted you to understand.”
“Understand what?”
“That acknowledged daughters aren’t immortal.”
Her weapon lifted.
Then Adrian’s voice sounded from the doorway.
“Neither are abandoned women.”
Rebecca spun.
Adrian stood there.
Unarmed.
I wanted to murder him myself.
“Adrian.”
He looked only at Rebecca.
“You want someone to blame? Blame me.”
She laughed.
“You think this is about you?”
“I think you enjoy hurting Mara because Henry is dead and she isn’t.”
Her hand shook.
“Stay back.”
Adrian stepped forward.
“Take me instead.”
“No.”
I said it before Rebecca could.
Adrian ignored me.
“I’m worth more to you alive than she is dead.”
Rebecca hesitated.
That was all Marcus needed.
The window exploded inward.
Agents entered.
Rebecca fired.
Adrian moved toward me.
The bullet hit him.
May you like
He fell.
And suddenly there was blood everywhere.
