Forbidden desires

The enemy within

Marcus

I barely slept.

The information Devin had given me kept replaying in my mind like a broken record.

Chris.

Out of everyone.

Chris had been the only one who arrived in Italy the day before Thomas and his wife died.

No matter how many times I tried to dismiss it, the fact refused to leave me alone. It sat in my chest like a stone, heavy and suffocating.

I kept going over every possibility, every explanation, every loophole that could prove this was all a coincidence.

But there was one problem.

I no longer believed in coincidences.

Not after the DNA report.

Not after the lies.

Not after everything that had happened.

By morning, I was done thinking.

I needed answers.

And there was only one person who could give them.

Chris.

The drive to his house felt longer than usual.

Every second stretched, thick with dread. My hands tightened around the steering wheel until my knuckles turned white.

I kept hearing Brianna’s voice in my head.

Kept seeing Thomas.

Kept thinking about betrayal.

By the time I arrived, my stomach felt twisted into knots.

The door opened before I could knock twice.

Katherine stood there, offering me a warm smile.

“Marcus. What a pleasant surprise.”

I forced a polite smile.

“ Katherine.”

She welcomed me inside and led me into the sitting room. A few minutes later, Chris joined us.

He looked relaxed.

Normal.

Too normal.

Or maybe it's just the storm raging through my mind.

We exchanged pleasantries, small talk that felt painfully meaningless considering the storm raging inside me.

After a few minutes, Chris looked at me curiously.

“Come,” he said. “Let’s talk in my study.”

I nodded.

The moment the study door shut behind us, the atmosphere changed.

The warmth vanished.

Only silence remained.

Chris walked behind his desk and leaned against it casually, though I noticed the slight tension in his shoulders.

“So,” he said, folding his arms. “ To what do I owe this unusual visit?”

His voice was calm.

Careful.

Measured.

I stayed seated, studying him.

“Work has been… stressful lately,” I said.

He frowned slightly.

“I can imagine.”

I swirled the wine in my glass, pretending ease I didn’t feel.

“You liked visiting Italy?”

He blinked.

“What?”

“Italy,” I repeated. “Did you enjoy visiting there?”

Confusion crossed his face.

“Why are you asking me that?”

I held his gaze.

“Just answer.”

His brows drew together.

“Yes,” he said slowly. “The view was beautiful. I enjoyed it… during the day, at least.”

That was enough.

I set the glass down.

I was done wasting time.

“What was your involvement in Brianna’s parents’ death?”

The silence that followed was deafening.

Chris froze.

Every bit of color drained from his face.

He stared at me as if he had misheard me.

His lips parted, but no words came out.

For three long seconds, he didn't move.

Then, almost immediately, he recovered.

Too quickly.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He pushed away from the desk so abruptly his chair rolled backward.

Then he started pacing.

One end of the study to the other.

Fast.

Restless.

Anxious.

And in that moment.

I knew.

Or at least, I thought I did.

No.

My mind rejected the possibility instantly.

This couldn't be real.

The word started repeating in my head before it escaped my lips.

“No…”

I stood so fast the chair scraped harshly against the floor.

“No.”

Chris stopped pacing.

I shook my head.

Hard.

“No."

My pulse thundered.

My breathing turned ragged.

This couldn’t be real.

Not him.

Anyone but him.

I stumbled back a step, nearly losing my balance.

Chris turned toward me.

And the look on his face shattered something inside me.

Guilt.

Pain.

Regret.

His voice broke.

“Marcus…”

He took a step toward me.

“I’m sorry.”

The words hit like a punch.

“I didn’t mean for things to turn out this way.”

My entire body went rigid.

He was confessing.

Dear God.

He was confessing.

Chris stepped closer.

I raised my hand sharply.

“Don’t.”

My voice cracked.

“Don’t come near me.”

He stopped.

I swallowed against the burning in my throat.

“Why?”

The word came out hoarse.

“Why did you do it?”

His face twisted with anguish.

“Marcus—”

“Why?!” I roared.

The sound echoed through the room.

Chris shut his eyes.

Then he exhaled shakily.

“Sit.”

“I’m not sitting.”

“Marcus—”

“I said no.”

For a moment, neither of us moved.

Then Chris began speaking.

Quietly.

Brokenly.

“The day before the accident… Thomas called me.”

My anger stalled.

Chris stared at nothing, as if seeing a memory.

“He said he needed to see me. Said there was something important, something urgent he had to tell me.”

His voice trembled.

“I asked what it was, but he refused to say over the phone.”

He dragged a hand over his face.

“I had to fly to Italy that same day.”

His eyes reddened.

“He told me to meet him the following day at a private restaurant. He said he’d come with his family.”

His breathing became uneven.

“I never got to see him.”

His voice broke completely.

The words nearly disappeared.

“The accident happened before I could.”

Tears streamed down his face now.

Unrestrained.

Raw.

Painful.

“It happened right outside the restaurant.”

I froze.

Chris’s hands shook violently.

“I was inside.”

My heartbeat slowed.

No.

Wait.

“I saw the crash through the glass wall.”

His voice cracked under the weight of memory.

“The impact… the chaos… people screaming…”

He choked.

“But I didn’t know.”

A sob escaped him.

“I didn’t know it was him.”

He covered his mouth, trying to steady himself.

Failing.

“I didn’t know I was watching my brother die.”

The room spun.

Every thought in my head collided.

Chris sank into his chair, shoulders shaking.

“It was later… much later… that I found out.”

He broke down completely.

“I’m sorry.”

Again.

And again.

“I’m sorry… I’m so sorry…”

His words dissolved into sobs.

“Thomas should forgive me.”

His shoulders shook violently.

“ I've been holding unto this for years… and it's been killing me.”

His grief was unbearable to witness.

And suddenly,

Everything stopped.

A horrifying realization crept in.

I stared at him.

Confused.

Thrown.

My voice came out barely above a whisper.

“Wait…”

Chris looked up through tears.

“So… you didn’t kill him?”

He frowned.

Confusion overtook his grief.

“What?”

I stared harder.

My pulse picked up again.

“So you didn’t arrange the murder?”

The transformation was instant.

Chris shot to his feet.

Anger exploded across his face.

“What?”

His voice thundered.

“Why would you think that?”

I didn’t answer.

Couldn’t.

Because now nothing made sense.

Chris’s chest heaved.

“It nearly destroyed me when I thought Brianna was Thomas’s biological daughter.”

His voice shook with fury and pain.

“I felt like I failed her.”

His eyes burned into mine.

“I felt like I failed my brother.”

His jaw tightened.

“That guilt nearly killed me.”

His voice lowered.

“Even now… even after learning she lied to all of us… that guilt never left.”

A cold chill slithered down my spine.

He was telling the truth.

Or at least…

I believed he was.

“Who knew you were going to Italy?” I asked.

Chris frowned.

“No one.”

“No one?”

He shook his head.

“No one.”

“What about Katherine?”

“Not even her.”

That made me still.

“She didn’t know?”

Chris exhaled.

“No.”

“Why?”

His answer came immediately.

“Thomas told me to keep it secret.”

Silence.

Heavy.

Oppressive.

“Why?”

Chris stared at me.

“He said it was important and confidential.”

My blood ran cold.

Confidential.

I slowly stood.

My fingers tightened around the wine glass.

I walked toward the bookshelf, needing distance.

Needing space to think.

The wine swirled as my hand moved.

My mind raced.

Too many pieces.

Too many contradictions.

Too many lies.

I stared blankly at the books but saw nothing.

If Chris was innocent…

Then everything had changed.

Everything.

That meant someone else planned the attack.

Thomas knew about something important.

Someone else wanted Thomas dead.

Someone else tampered with the DNA results.

Someone close enough to know private information.

Close enough to manipulate evidence.

Close enough to stay invisible.

A chill settled deep in my bones.

This wasn’t random.

This was calculated.

Careful.

Personal.

I gripped the glass harder.

If it wasn’t Chris…

Then who?

Who knew about Italy?

Who knew about Thomas?

Who had access to the DNA report?

Who had been standing right beside us all this time?

My throat tightened.

A terrifying thought crawled into my mind.

Not a stranger.

No.

This felt worse than that.

Because whoever did this…

Was close.

Very close.

I slowly lifted my gaze.

My reflection stared back at me from the glass cabinet.

Cold.

Unreadable.

Haunted.

One truth rang louder than every other thought.

The enemy wasn’t outside anymore.

They were already inside.

And for the first time in a long time,

I felt fear.

Real fear.

Because if Chris wasn’t the one behind all this…

Then someone far more dangerous was still hiding in plain sight.

Watching.

Waiting.

Smiling.

And I had no idea who it was.