Chapter 4 - The Brother’s Intrusion
"He’s early," Adrian muttered, his eyes darting to the monitor. He immediately grabbed the silicone mask from the desk, his fingers smoothing the edges of the synthetic skin. "He must have noticed the legacy back-door protocol I used to mirror the server. He’s panicked."
"Let him come up," I said, a sudden rush of adrenaline clearing the last remnants of my fatigue. I reached for my wedding dress, which was draped over the chair, but Adrian caught my arm.
"No time for the mask," Adrian said, his jaw tightening as the sound of slamming car doors echoed from the courtyard below. "If he sees me like this, the deception ends now. We lose the element of surprise before the wire transfer executes."
"Then we don't let him into the room," I said, my mind working with rapid, tactical precision. "Adrian, lock yourself in the master dressing room behind the false bookshelf. I’ll handle Marcus. He thinks I’m a helpless idiot who can't handle a simple confrontation. I’ll play the role just long enough to get him off the property."
Adrian hesitated, his blue eyes scanning my face for any sign of weakness. "Marcus is volatile, Evelyn. When he’s backed into a corner, he resorts to physical intimidation. I’ve seen him throw a glass at a waiter for serving the wrong wine."
"He’s my brother, Adrian. I’ve spent twenty-six years learning exactly how to dodge his blows," I said, pushing him toward the hidden dressing room door. "Now go. Before he reaches the landing."
With a grim nod, Adrian stepped into the concealed room, the mahogany bookshelf clicking shut behind him just as the heavy brass handles of the bridal suite doors began to rattle violently.
The door flew open with a loud bang. Marcus stood in the threshold, his expensive Italian suit rumpled, his hair disheveled, and his face a mask of sweat-slicked, cocaine-fueled paranoia. He held a high-end tablet in his left hand, the screen flashing with system administrative warnings.
"Where is he?!" Marcus shouted, slamming the door behind him so hard the plaster dust rattled from the ceiling molding. He marched toward me, his boots leaving dark, wet streaks on the cream-colored rug. "Where is the old man, Evelyn? He’s doing something to our servers. Our IT guy in Chicago just called me—someone is downloading our core encrypted files using an administrative clearance that shouldn't exist!"
I stood in the center of the room, wearing a simple silk robe, my face perfectly calm, my arms crossed. "Mr. Vale is asleep, Marcus. He took his heart medication two hours ago and explicitly stated he was not to be disturbed by anyone. Especially not my family."
"Don't give me that corporate secretary garbage, Evie!" Marcus roared, stepping dangerously close, his breath smelling of stale mints and alcohol. He shook the tablet in my face. "The IP address tracing the data leak is originating from this house! This room! Did you give him the passwords? Did you let that old bastard into our private files before the wire cleared?!"
"I don't know anything about your files, Marcus," I said, keeping my voice low, deliberate, and trembling just enough to trigger his natural arrogance. "You told me the passwords were safe. You told me Mr. Vale was just an investor. If someone is downloading your files, maybe it’s one of the loan sharks you owe money to."
"Shut up!" he screamed, raising his hand as if to strike me.
Behind the false bookshelf, I heard a faint, metallic click—Adrian was preparing to breach the wall to protect me. I immediately stepped back, widening the distance between Marcus and the hidden door, keeping his attention focused entirely on me.
"You think you’re smart because you went to night school?" Marcus sneered, lowering his hand but stepping closer, his fingers digging painfully into the meat of my shoulder. "You're nothing but a collateral asset, Evelyn. We sold you to keep our name on the building. If you ruined this deal—if that ten million dollars doesn't land in our account tomorrow morning because you let the old man see the bad numbers—I will personally ensure you never see a penny of the trust fund. I’ll tell Dad you tried to sabotage the family."
"The wire is already scheduled for 8:00 a.m. Monday, Marcus," I said, looking directly into his bloodshot eyes, ignoring the sharp pain in my shoulder. "Mr. Vale’s accountant confirmed it to me this morning. The deal is done. Your bank is saved. Now take your hands off me and get out of my house before I wake him up and tell him you're threatening his wife."
Marcus froze. The name—his wife—seemed to hit him like a bucket of cold water. He looked at the heavy mahogany doors of the adjoining bedroom, believing the multi-billionaire eighty-year-old was resting inside, ready to revoke the ten-million-dollar lifeline at any moment.
Slowly, his grip loosened on my shoulder. He stepped back, wiping the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand, a greasy, pathetic smile returning to his face.
"Good," Marcus muttered, adjusting his jacket. "Good. Just make sure it stays that way, Evie. One more day of being a good girl, and we’re all rich. I’m leaving. But if that green light doesn't flash on my screen by nine tomorrow... I’m coming back. And I won't be knocking."
He turned and stormed out of the room, the heavy doors slamming behind him.
The moment the echo of his footsteps died down, the false bookshelf swung open. Adrian stepped out, his face white with an explosive, cold fury, a heavy steel fire poker clutched tightly in his hand. He looked at the door, then down at my shoulder where Marcus’s fingers had left red, angry marks against my skin.
May you like
"He touched you," Adrian said, his voice dropping into a register that was terrifyingly quiet. "I should have killed him right here."
"No," I said, reaching out to touch his arm, feeling the rigid, vibrating tension in his muscles. "If you kill him now, he dies an innocent businessman in the eyes of the law. I want him to live long enough to see his name dragged through the dirt. Let Monday come, Adrian. Let the faucet open."
