The second impact: Buried truth
1492 Words
Marcus
It's been hard to focus of lately.
By the time morning arrived, I had gone through the DNA report again, as if staring at it long enough would force it to change.
It didn’t.
The paper sat on my coffee table, cold and unhelpful, while my thoughts spiraled.
Nothing about Brianna and this whole event doesn't make any sense.
The DNA report said one thing.
My instincts said another.
And I had learned a long time ago that my instincts rarely screamed without reason.
That was why I called Devin.
If there was anyone who could dig beneath polished lies and buried records, it was him.
I checked the time on my phone again.
And again.
When the doorbell finally rang, I was already halfway to the door.
I opened it.
Devin stood there, one hand tucked into his pocket, the other holding a file and paper bag that smelled strongly of fried snacks.
“Good morning to you too,” he said dryly as he walked in without waiting for permission.
I shut the door behind him.
“You’re late.”
He glanced at his watch.
“I’m three minutes late.”
“You’re late.”
He snorted.
Some people walked into a room and brought noise with them.
Devin brought chaos.
Within seconds, he was already scanning my apartment like some tourist inspecting a luxury hotel.
His brows lifted.
“You know,” he said slowly, “your apartment always confuses me.”
I folded my arms.
“How?”
He turned in a slow circle, looking around.
“It’s alive.”
I stared at him.
He gestured toward the living room.
“Warm lights. Plants. Books. Colors. This place feels like someone who actually enjoys being human lives here.”
His eyes landed on me.
“Then there’s you.”
I narrowed my eyes.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
He grinned.
“It means your apartment has more personality than you do.”
I said nothing.
He smirked like he had won something.
Then, as if he owned the place, he walked straight into my kitchen.
I closed my eyes for a second.
“Devin.”
No response.
Cabinets opened.
Closed.
Opened again.
My jaw tightened.
A moment later, he walked back into the living room with a bottle of juice in one hand and a bowl of snacks in the other.
He dropped into the sofa like he had all the time in the world.
My patience thinned.
“We’re not here to socialize.”
“I know.”
He twisted open the bottle and took a long drink.
Then grabbed a snack.
I stared at him.
He chewed.
Slowly.
Deliberately.
“I’m serious.”
That finally made him look at me.
For the first time since he arrived, the teasing disappeared from his face.
“I know you are.”
Silence settled between us.
Then he lifted his bottle slightly.
“Before we begin… congratulations.”
I frowned.
“For what?”
He blinked.
“Seriously?”
I said nothing.
He shook his head.
“Being voted acting CEO of the Hemsworth Empire.”
The words settled heavily.
Acting CEO
The title should have meant something.
Victory.
Power.
Validation.
Everyone else expects that. I felt none of it.
Instead, it felt like inheriting a battle field.
Still, a small smile touched my lips.
“Thanks.”
“That’s all I get?”
I lifted a shoulder.
“What do you want? A speech?”
“A little emotion would be nice.”
The smile disappeared.
“Get to the point, Devin.”
His expression shifted.
He placed the bottle down.
Then he reached into his bag and pulled out a stack of files.
Every muscle in my body tightened.
He placed them on the table.
“I looked into Brianna.”
My pulse sharpened.
“And?”
He tapped the top file.
“She is Thomas’s daughter.”
Relief hit me so suddenly it almost hurt.
My shoulders loosened.
A breath escaped me.
Good.
At least one thing made sense.
Brianna hadn’t lied.
“Are you sure?”
He gave me a flat look.
“You hired the best.”
I ignored that.
“So the records are clean?”
“Yes.”
I nodded.
Relief should have ended this conversation.
But something about his expression stopped me.
He wasn’t done.
I saw it then.
The hesitation.
The tension in his shoulders.
A cold feeling crawled down my spine.
“What else?”
He exhaled.
“I dug into her parents’ accident.”
My gaze sharpened.
“What about it?”
He opened a file and slid photos toward me.
The moment I saw them, something inside me stilled.
Twisted metal.
Shattered glass.
A car crushed beyond recognition.
Devin spoke calmly.
“The official report says it was a tragic collision involving a cargo truck.”
I stayed silent.
“The truck hit their vehicle and pushed it across the road.”
I kept staring at the photos.
“The strange part,” he continued, “is that the first collision shouldn’t have killed them.”
I looked up.
“So?”
His voice lowered.
“The truck didn’t stop.”
Something cold moved through me.
“What do you mean?”
“It reversed.”
I froze.
“What?”
“It reversed.”
My mind struggled to catch up.
Then understanding began to form.
Slowly.
Horribly.
He held my gaze.
“And then it accelerated.”
A chill ran through me.
No.
No.
“It drove straight into their car again.”
My fingers curled.
He pushed another photo toward me.
The truck hadn’t simply collided.
It had climbed onto the car.
Crushed it.
Flattened it.
“The second impact destroyed the passenger side,” Devin said quietly. “Then the truck mounted the vehicle.”
I felt my breathing change.
Heavy.
Sharp.
Controlled—but barely.
“The weight crushed the roof completely.”
No survivors.
He didn’t have to say it.
I could see it.
This wasn’t an accident.
This was murder.
Intentional.
Calculated.
My voice came out low.
“That wasn’t losing control.”
“No.”
“That was murder.”
“Yes.”
The word landed like stone.
Murder.
I leaned back, my mind racing.
Who would want Brianna’s parents dead?
Why?
Money?
Power?
Revenge?
And if someone wanted them dead–
Why was Brianna spared?
I looked up.
“Where was Brianna?”
“At her grandmother’s house.”
I went still.
“She had gone there for the weekend.”
The implication hit instantly.
She wasn’t there.
By coincidence.
Or not.
Too convenient.
Far too convenient.
Someone targeted that car.
Someone made sure those people died.
And Brianna just happened not to be inside.
No.
Something was wrong.
Terribly wrong.
I stood and walked toward the window.
The city stretched beneath me.
Cars moved.
People lived.
The world continued.
But something dark had just surfaced.
My reflection stared back at me in the glass.
Cold.
Alert.
Dangerously focused.
Then I felt it.
Something else.
I turned.
Devin hadn’t moved.
He still sat there.
Silent.
His usual humor gone.
Completely.
Something in his face made my stomach tighten.
He still wasn’t done.
A chill ran through me.
“What?”
He said nothing.
I took a step closer.
“What is it?”
He rubbed a hand over his face.
Even Devin looked unsettled.
That alone sent alarm crashing through me.
“Devin.”
Silence.
My pulse pounded.
“Say it.”
He finally looked at me.
The expression in his eyes sent ice through my veins.
Something was terribly wrong.
“When I expanded the timeline around the accident,” he said slowly, “I found something else.”
My throat tightened.
“What?”
He held my gaze.
Every second stretched painfully.
Then he spoke.
“The day before Brianna’s parents were killed…”
He paused.
My heartbeat slammed against my ribs.
His voice dropped.
“Chris flew to Italy.”
Everything inside me stopped.
Silence.
Absolute silence.
I stared at him.
No movement.
No sound.
Only one thought.
Impossible.
But the look on Devin’s face told me otherwise.
Chris.
Italy.
The day before the murders.
Something cold and violent awakened inside me.
Because suddenly—
This wasn’t just about an accident.
This wasn’t just about buried records.
This had become something far more dangerous.
Someone planned this.
Someone powerful.
Someone careful.
And somehow—
Chris was connected.
My throat felt dry.
My voice came out barely above a whisper.
“What… did you just say?”
Devin didn’t blink.
“I said Chris left for Italy the day before the accident.”
I stood frozen.
My mind raced.
One horrifying possibility after another.
And for the first time—
I feared the truth more than the lie.
Because if Chris was involved…
Then everything I thought I knew—
Was about to burn.
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