HEADLINES AND HEARTSTRINGS

Chapter 9: The Man Behind the Headlines

ADRIAN'S POV

The moment I saw Lena's car parked outside St. Mary's Cemetery, I knew I was too late.

She wasn't supposed to be here.

Not yet.

I tightened my grip on the steering wheel as I watched from across the street. Two black SUVs were parked near the entrance, exactly where I feared they would be.

"They found her," I muttered.

Claire's voice came through my Bluetooth earpiece.

"Sir?"

"Call Marcus."

"Already done."

"Tell him I need every camera feed from the cemetery."

There was a brief pause.

"And Adrian..."

I already knew what she was going to say.

"If they're there, it means they've realized she's getting close."

"I know."

The line went silent.

I drove through the cemetery gates just as Lena disappeared behind a row of marble tombstones.

For one terrifying second, I lost sight of her.

Then I saw the two men.

They weren't running.

They weren't shouting.

They were simply walking after her with the confidence of men who believed she had nowhere to escape.

My chest tightened.

Not again.

I threw the car into park before it had completely stopped.

"Lena!"

She looked up.

Relief flashed across her face for only a second before determination replaced it.

"What are you doing here?" she shouted.

"No time."

I pointed toward the passenger door.

"Get in."

To my surprise...

She didn't argue.

She climbed in, and I slammed my foot on the accelerator.

Only after we'd merged into traffic did I breathe again.

...

Neither of us spoke for several minutes.

The silence wasn't awkward.

It was heavy.

I glanced at her.

She was staring out the window, clutching her bag tightly against her chest.

Her hands were shaking.

She was trying to hide it.

She wasn't doing a very good job.

"You okay?" I asked quietly.

"I'm fine."

The oldest lie in the world.

I almost smiled.

Almost.

"You don't have to pretend with me."

She turned toward me.

"Funny."

"What?"

"I was just thinking the same thing about you."

I couldn't argue with that.

We both had secrets.

The difference was...

Mine had already buried people.

...

I pulled into the underground parking garage beneath Knight Studios.

The security gates closed behind us with a metallic clang.

Only then did I allow myself to relax.

Lena frowned.

"Why are we here?"

"Because it's the safest place I know."

"You say that like someone is trying to kill me."

I looked straight ahead.

"I don't know if they are."

The truth was worse.

I knew they were capable of it.

I just didn't know if they'd made that decision yet.

...

My office felt unusually quiet.

Claire placed two cups of coffee on the table before excusing herself without asking questions.

She had learned long ago that some conversations were safer left unheard.

Lena stood by the bookshelf, arms folded.

"Start talking."

I leaned against my desk.

"What did the woman give you?"

Her eyes widened.

"You knew someone would meet me."

"I hoped they would."

"You set this up?"

"No."

"Then how—"

"Because she tried to contact me first."

The room fell silent.

Lena slowly reached into her bag and removed the photograph.

I recognized it immediately.

My throat tightened.

I hadn't seen that picture in years.

She placed it on the desk between us.

"She said to stop chasing you."

I stared at the photograph.

Me.

Ethan.

Two stupid boys laughing at something I couldn't even remember.

Back when life still made sense.

"Who is he to you?" Lena asked softly.

I closed my eyes.

For three years, I had rehearsed this answer.

Now that the question had finally come...

The words refused to leave my mouth.

"Lena..."

She waited patiently.

No notebook.

No recorder.

Just her eyes searching mine.

I opened the drawer of my desk.

Inside was an old leather wallet.

Tucked behind a faded driver's license was another photograph.

Smaller.

Older.

I handed it to her.

She studied it carefully.

A woman sat on a picnic blanket with two young boys.

One was me.

The other...

Ethan.

We couldn't have been older than ten.

Lena looked from the picture to me.

Then back again.

"Adrian..."

Her voice barely rose above a whisper.

"You look exactly alike."

I nodded.

My chest felt impossibly tight.

"We shared the same father."

She looked stunned.

"But..."

"The media never knew."

"Why?"

"Our father had another family before he married my mother."

I laughed bitterly.

"He spent his entire life pretending Ethan and his mother didn't exist."

Lena sat down slowly.

"So..."

"Ethan Blake was my half-brother."

Saying the words aloud after all these years felt like reopening a wound that had never truly healed.

She looked down at the photograph again.

"The note on the back..."

I finished the sentence for her.

"'Brothers don't deserve to bury brothers.'"

A painful silence settled between us.

"I buried him," I admitted.

"No cameras."

"No reporters."

"No headlines."

"Just me."

Lena's eyes softened.

"I'm sorry."

I shook my head.

"Don't be."

"You lost your brother."

"I lost him long before the accident."

Her brow furrowed.

"What do you mean?"

I looked out the window.

"We spent years trying to build a relationship in secret."

I swallowed hard.

"Then three years ago..."

A knock interrupted me.

Three sharp knocks.

Claire opened the door without waiting for permission.

Her face had gone pale.

"Adrian..."

"What is it?"

She looked from me to Lena.

"They've released another article."

Lena frowned.

"What article?"

Claire handed her a tablet.

The headline filled the screen.

BILLIONAIRE ACTOR'S SECRET BROTHER DIED AFTER PRIVATE MEETING.

Lena's face drained of color.

"They know."

I took the tablet from her.

My stomach dropped.

The article contained information only three people knew.

Claire.

Lena.

And me.

Someone had leaked it.

But none of us had spoken to the press.

Which meant only one thing.

Someone else had been listening.

Someone much closer than I had ever imagined.

And for the first time in three years...

I realized the enemy wasn't outside my walls.

They were already inside them.