Chapter 2 - The Secret Behind the Guards
After the shooting, Ethan moved me to the west wing.
That decision shocked everyone.
Including me.
For three months, we had lived like neighboring tenants inside the same mansion. Suddenly, I was being transferred into the part of the house where nobody except Ethan and his most trusted security team was allowed.
“There are cameras in the hallways,” Brian told me.
“Wonderful.”
“Two armed guards outside your room.”
“Even better.”
“And Ethan personally approved the security schedule.”
I folded my arms.
“Did he also approve oxygen?”
Brian almost smiled.
Almost.
“Mrs. Carter, you are safer here.”
“Please stop calling me that.”
“You are his wife.”
“I know.”
“Then perhaps stop pretending you aren’t important to him.”
I stared at him.
Brian’s expression became unreadable.
Then he walked away.
I hated that everyone seemed to know something I didn’t.
That night, I sat in the guest bedroom adjacent to Ethan’s suite, unable to sleep.
At two in the morning, I heard footsteps.
I opened the door.
Ethan stood in the hallway.
He was wearing a white shirt with the sleeves rolled to his forearms.
There was blood on his cuff.
I froze.
“You’re hurt.”
“It isn’t mine.”
“That doesn’t make me feel better.”
He stared at me.
“Go back to bed.”
“Who was it?”
“Someone who tried to get information about you.”
My stomach dropped.
“What kind of information?”
“Your schedule. Your charity events. Your favorite restaurants. Lily’s apartment.”
I felt cold all over.
“You know where Lily lives?”
“I know where everyone close to you lives.”
“That’s terrifying.”
“It’s necessary.”
“No. It’s controlling.”
His jaw clenched.
“I can’t protect you if I don’t know where you are.”
“You didn’t care where I was three months ago.”
Silence.
I regretted the words the moment they left my mouth.
Ethan looked away.
“You think I didn’t care.”
“You barely spoke to me.”
“That was deliberate.”
“Why?”
He finally looked at me.
“Because distance was safer.”
I laughed bitterly.
“For whom?”
“For you.”
I didn’t know what to say.
He stepped closer.
“You heard that conversation before our wedding.”
It was not a question.
I nodded.
“You heard me say I didn’t want you.”
“Yes.”
“I meant what I said.”
My heart broke all over again.
Then he added quietly, “But you never heard why.”
“What does that mean?”
He moved toward a locked cabinet near the wall.
He entered a code.
Inside was a file.
He pulled out a photograph and handed it to me.
I nearly dropped it.
The photograph showed my father.
But he was younger.
Maybe fifteen years earlier.
Standing beside a woman I did not recognize.
The woman wore a wedding ring.
And she had my eyes.
I looked at Ethan.
“Who is she?”
“My mother.”
I frowned.
“That’s impossible.”
“She was.”
“Then why does she look like me?”
Ethan’s expression changed.
“Because she was your father’s first love.”
My breath caught.
“What?”
“Your father and my mother were engaged before either family knew what was happening.”
I stared at the photograph.
Ethan continued.
“They planned to run away together.”
“Then why didn’t they?”
“My grandfather found out.”
He looked at the floor.
“He threatened your father. He threatened my mother.”
“What happened?”
“She was sent away.”
“To where?”
“Milwaukee first. Then New York. She never returned.”
I looked at the woman’s face.
There were similarities.
The eyes.
The shape of the mouth.
Something in the expression.
But it still made no sense.
“If they loved each other, why did my father marry my mother?”
“He didn’t.”
My head snapped up.
“What?”
“Your mother died when you were a baby. You were raised by your father.”
I stepped back.
I had always been told my mother died from complications shortly after I was born.
I had never questioned it.
Suddenly, every childhood memory felt unstable.
“Why did nobody tell me?”
“Because secrets are currency in families like ours.”
I stared at Ethan.
“And the marriage?”
His face hardened.
“Your father came to me six months before the wedding.”
He paused.
“He told me the Russos had discovered something about you.”
“What?”
“That you weren’t merely his daughter.”
I waited.
Ethan’s eyes darkened.
“They believe you are the legal heir to an old network of warehouses and shipping contracts that once belonged to your mother’s family.”
I shook my head.
“That’s impossible.”
“No.”
He placed another document in my hand.
A legal certificate.
My mother’s name was there.
Below it was a trust agreement.
My name appeared as beneficiary.
I read it three times.
“Why have I never seen this?”
“Because the trust stays dormant until you turn twenty-five.”
“I’m twenty-two.”
“Exactly.”
I looked at him.
“And three months ago, we got married.”
“Yes.”
“So the Russos are waiting for me to turn twenty-five?”
“Not anymore.”
My blood ran cold.
“Why?”
“Because someone accessed the trust records.”
I looked at the paperwork again.
“The threat at the gala…”
“Was a warning.”
I sat down slowly.
Ethan crouched in front of me.
For the first time since our wedding, he was close enough that I could see exhaustion beneath his eyes.
“I married you because your father needed our alliance.”
“And?”
“And because I knew the moment we married, anyone coming after your inheritance would have to come through me.”
I swallowed.
“So I really was part of your empire.”
His expression tightened.
“Yes.”
I looked at him, waiting.
He did not speak.
“Is that all?”
“No.”
The answer came too quickly.
I stared.
He looked away.
“My feelings were never part of the agreement.”
Something strange moved through my chest.
“Then what are they?”
He stood.
“Complicated.”
Before I could ask more, his phone rang.
He listened.
Then his face changed.
“Where?”
A pause.
“Lock the house down.”
He ended the call.
“What happened?”
“Your father is missing.”
My stomach dropped.
“What?”
“His car was found abandoned near the river.”
“Is he alive?”
“I don’t know.”
I grabbed Ethan’s arm.
“Take me to him.”
“No.”
“He’s my father.”
“And you are exactly who they want.”
“Then I need to go.”
He looked at me for several seconds.
Finally he said, “Fine.”
He took my hand.
Not as a husband protecting his image.
Not as a man protecting an asset.
May you like
As a man who was terrified of losing me.
And that frightened me more than any gunshot.
