Chapter 2 - The Brother Who Was Supposed to Die Before Midnight
Ethan pushed me through the hidden passage as the mansion erupted around us.
Men shouted upstairs.
Doors slammed.
Someone ran across the marble hallway.
Then came another gunshot.
I flinched.
Ethan didn't.
He moved with the calm certainty of someone who had spent his life in dangerous places.
“Where are we going?”
“Garage.”
“That's where Marcus expects me to go.”
“Not the main garage.”
He opened another concealed door.
We emerged behind the wine cellar.
A narrow staircase led downward.
“There's a tunnel beneath the estate,” he said.
I stared.
“How many secret rooms does my husband own?”
“More than you want to know.”
We descended.
Halfway down, my phone vibrated.
Marcus.
I stared at the screen.
Ethan reached for it.
“Don't answer.”
I did anyway.
“Hello?”
Silence.
Then my husband's voice.
“Where are you?”
I said nothing.
“Claire, I know you're home.”
My name sounded different coming from him.
Cold.
Possessive.
Not loving.
He continued.
“Come upstairs.”
I looked at Ethan.
He shook his head.
Marcus sighed.
“You should have stayed in Florida.”
The call ended.
I felt sick.
“He knows.”
“Yes.”
“He wants me alive long enough to control where I go.”
“Exactly.”
We reached the bottom.
A steel door opened into an underground garage beneath the old guesthouse.
An SUV waited.
Ethan opened the passenger door.
I stopped.
“Where's Daniel?”
“At the lodge.”
“We need to warn him.”
“I already did.”
I stared at him.
“What?”
“I sent him a message.”
“Did he respond?”
“No.”
That frightened me more than anything.
We drove through a service road and left the Whitmore property from a back gate.
I watched the mansion disappear behind us.
My home.
My marriage.
My entire life.
All of it had been a lie.
“Call Daniel again.”
“I did.”
“Again.”
Ethan handed me his phone.
I called.
It rang.
No answer.
Then a message appeared.
UNKNOWN CALLER:
Don't trust Ethan Cole.
I stared.
Ethan saw it.
“That would have been more convincing if they hadn't sent the same message to me three months ago.”
“Who sent it?”
“Marcus.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I traced it.”
He looked at me.
“Your husband has spent years trying to convince everyone that I'm the monster.”
I swallowed.
“And you aren't?”
His eyes remained on the road.
“I've done things I'm not proud of.”
“That isn't an answer.”
“No.”
We drove in silence.
Then the phone rang.
Daniel.
I answered immediately.
“Daniel?”
Static.
Then breathing.
“Claire?”
“Oh my God. Are you okay?”
“Where are you?”
“With Ethan.”
Silence.
“Is he there with you?”
“Yes.”
“Then listen carefully.”
His voice dropped.
“Don't trust anyone at the lodge.”
“Why?”
“Because Marcus isn't alone.”
A loud crash came through the phone.
“Daniel?”
“Claire, if you get this, there's a—”
The call ended.
I stared at the screen.
“Where is the lodge?”
Ethan accelerated.
“An hour away.”
“We don't have an hour.”
“I know.”
The next fifteen minutes passed in silence.
Then Ethan's phone rang.
One of his men answered.
“Boss.”
Ethan listened.
“What?”
His hand tightened on the steering wheel.
“Say it again.”
His face hardened.
“No.”
He ended the call.
“What happened?”
“The lodge caught fire.”
My heart stopped.
“Daniel?”
“They found a body.”
I covered my mouth.
“Was it him?”
“They don't know yet.”
“Turn around.”
“We aren't going to the lodge.”
“Why?”
“Because the fire is a distraction.”
I stared.
“How can you know?”
“Because Marcus wants us looking there.”
“Then where is Daniel?”
Ethan made a call.
“Rafael.”
A man's voice answered.
“Boss?”
“Find Daniel Whitmore.”
“We're searching.”
“Don't search the lodge.”
“Then where?”
Ethan thought for a second.
“Northbridge.”
I looked at him.
“The account?”
He nodded.
“Marcus wasn't just hiding money there.”
“What else?”
“The company owns an old chemical warehouse.”
“Why would Daniel go there?”
“Because he discovered the account.”
The SUV turned toward downtown.
We reached the warehouse.
The place was deserted.
Ethan entered first.
I stayed behind him.
Inside, the air smelled of oil and dust.
A light flickered.
Then we heard a voice.
“Claire?”
Daniel.
We ran.
He was tied to a chair.
Blood covered his forehead.
But he was alive.
I dropped beside him.
“Oh my God.”
He looked at Ethan.
“You actually came.”
“Why wouldn't I?”
“Because Marcus told me you were behind Noah's death.”
Ethan's expression changed.
“And you believed him?”
“I did until tonight.”
Ethan cut the restraints.
Daniel struggled to stand.
“What happened?”
Marcus brought me here.”
“Why?”
“To force me to sign over my shares.”
“Did you?”
“No.”
Daniel looked at me.
“He said you were already dead.”
My skin went cold.
“He showed me a photograph.”
“What photograph?”
“You.”
He hesitated.
“Lying beside a wrecked car.”
Ethan cursed.
“Stage one.”
“What?”
“There's an old plan.”
Daniel looked at him.
“What plan?”
Ethan pulled up the flash drive.
“Car explosion. Insurance payout. Daniel dies at the lodge. Claire dies later.”
Daniel stared.
“For what?”
Ethan looked at me.
“Because whoever inherits the Whitmore trust controls the remaining assets.”
Daniel understood.
“Grace.”
Silence.
He staggered backward.
“Grace gets everything.”
“Not everything,” Ethan said.
Daniel looked at him.
“The estate goes into probate if both you and Claire die.”
Daniel frowned.
“Then who gets it?”
Ethan answered.
“Marcus.”
Daniel closed his eyes.
“He planned this.”
“Months ago.”
Daniel looked at me.
“I’m sorry.”
I shook my head.
“You didn't do this.”
“I suspected him.”
“Why didn't you tell me?”
“I thought you would defend him.”
The words hurt because I knew he was right.
Ethan stepped away.
“There's one more thing.”
“What?”
“Marcus needs you alive until the trust changes.”
Daniel looked at me.
“What trust?”
“The marriage trust.”
I remembered my father's lawyer discussing it years ago.
If I died while married, Marcus would control everything.
But if I divorced him before my death, the assets would be divided differently.
Suddenly the divorce conversation from months ago made sense.
Marcus had delayed every attempt I made to leave.
Every time I mentioned divorce, he became apologetic.
Romantic.
Threatening.
Whatever worked.
He hadn't been afraid of losing me.
He had been afraid of losing my money.
Daniel looked sick.
“How do we stop him?”
I looked at Ethan.
He said,
“We make him believe both of you died.”
I stared.
“You want to fake our deaths?”
“No.”
He looked toward the dark warehouse entrance.
“I want Marcus to confess before he can kill anyone.”
A vehicle stopped outside.
All three of us froze.
Headlights swept across the windows.
Then came a voice through a loudspeaker.
“Claire Whitmore.”
Marcus.
“Come outside.”
Ethan raised his gun.
Marcus continued.
“Your brother-in-law has ten minutes to live.”
Daniel looked at me.
“How does he know?”
Ethan answered.
“Because he has people watching us.”
Marcus's voice came again.
“You have a choice, Claire.”
I stepped toward the window.
“Leave Ethan and Daniel.”
Silence.
“Do that,” Marcus said, “and I may let you live.”
I laughed.
For the first time that night, I wasn't afraid.
“Marcus?”
“Yes?”
“You already made your mistake.”
“What mistake?”
“You assumed I came home as your wife.”
I looked at Ethan.
Then at Daniel.
“I came home as your witness.”
Marcus went silent.
Then several guns fired through the warehouse windows.
May you like
The glass exploded.
And the night became war.
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