The Forbidden Inheritance

Chapter 4

I could hardly breathe beneath the weight of his stare. Elias’s words echoed in my skull like a sentence: “Tell me why you lied about a miscarriage when this says you filed for an abortion.”

The paper in his hand trembled only because of the fury running through him. My pulse thundered, my lips parted, but I couldn’t speak the truth. Not yet. Not when that truth was more dangerous than the lie.

“I can’t explain everything now,” I managed, voice hoarse. “But it’s not what you think.”

A cold laugh escaped him, devoid of warmth. “Not what I think? Then enlighten me, Mara. Because as far as I see it, you buried my brother with secrets, and you’re burying me in them now.”

My throat ached. “You’ll just have to trust me—”

“Trust?” His voice sharpened, cutting me down where I stood. “You’ve mistaken me for a man who deals in faith. I don’t trust. I dismantle. And I will unravel every secret you’ve hidden, one by one, until nothing is left of your lies but ash.”

The threat settled in my bones, colder than the marble floors beneath my shoes. I wanted to defend myself, to throw the truth at him just to end the torment. But I bit it back. Because the truth was worse.

Elias stepped away at last, retreating to his desk, his expression shuttered into a wall I couldn’t climb. He pressed a button on his phone.

“Take Mrs. Lawson to her office,” he instructed.

Moments later, a young assistant appeared at the door. I followed silently, my legs unsteady, every step heavier than the last.

The moment the door shut behind me, I collapsed into the leather chair, burying my face in my hands. For the first time in months, I wept without restraint.

Tears poured until my body ached from them, until I thought I’d drowned in all the words I couldn’t say.

My phone on my desk rang, startling me back into myself. I wiped at my face, sniffing sharply before lifting the receiver.

“Mara?” The familiar voice tugged at my heart. “It’s me. Hope you haven't forgotten that your appointment is next week. ”

Relief flooded me. “Clara.” My best friend’s voice, warm and grounding. A doctor, yes—but more than that, my ride or die.

“You sound awful” she said. “Are you crying? God, Mara, don’t tell me you’re holed up in that ice palace again.”

Her light teasing almost drew a laugh from me. “I’m fine,” I lied. “I’ll come to the clinic next week.”

We talked for a while before it ended, and somehow I felt lighter than before.

I stared into the air, wishing the days would hurry by or maybe even the weeks.

The week passed in a blur. I made sure to avoid him.

I ate out instead of joining the family for breakfast or dinner,

and I used a separate car when going to the company.

By the time I arrived at Clara’s private clinic,

exhaustion clung to me like a second skin.

She ushered me in, her sharp eyes softening as soon as the exam was over. “You’re healthy. No scarring, no retained tissue. Your body’s recovered well after the abortion.”

The word made me flinch.

Clara’s tone gentled. “It was months ago, Mara. You’re okay. But you need to take better care of yourself, your iron is still low. Here.” She pressed a bottle of supplements into my hand. “These will help. Nourishing pills. Don’t skip them.”

I nodded, trying to focus.

Then she hesitated. “I should probably tell you this. Your brother-in-law Elias, right?—came by weeks ago asking for your medical report.”

The world tilted. “Weeks ago?”

“Yes. Two, maybe three. Why?”

I forced a smile, though my pulse skittered. “Nothing. I just… thought he only returned recently.”

Clara tilted her head. “You didn’t know?”

I shook my head, and a chill rippled through me. So he’s been here all along. Watching. Digging. Investigating Philip’s death… and me.

Clara squeezed my hand. “Don’t let him intimidate you. Don’t let him in. Men like Elias Lawson will take everything if you let them.”

I tried to smile, but she saw too much.

“And honestly,” she added, grinning suddenly, “he’s ridiculously hot, I don't even know how who to compare between him and his brother. I mean we could be a thing ”

Despite myself, a small laugh broke free. “You’re impossible. Clara please don't fall for him…I'm sure there are better men outside”

“here comes my overprotective friend.” she said laughing

By the time I returned home that evening, the weight of Clara’s words clung to me. I demanded fruit from Margaret one of the maids here, something to calm the gnawing in my chest. After a long, scalding bath, I sat in my robe, biting into slices of apple, trying to silence the thoughts clawing at me.

Then a knock at the door broke the quiet.

I opened it and froze.

Elias stood there. His tie undone, his shirt unbuttoned at the throat. His eyes, glassy and dark. He reeked faintly of whiskey.

Before I could speak, he stepped inside, shutting the door with deliberate finality. The sound echoed like a lock sealing behind me.

He said nothing. He only stared.

The kind of stare that devoured, dangerous and lustful all at once.

My breath hitched. Heat curled low in my belly, no matter how much I fought it.

He came closer, and I found myself retreating until my back brushed the edge of my bed.

Then he leaned in, his lips a breath away from mine. My heart pounded like it was about to drop out. At the same time, my body betrayed me waiting for him to do more.

Then his gaze flicked past me, sharp even in his drunken haze.

I followed it.

And froze.

On the bedside cabinet, gleaming under the lamp, lay the empty arsenic bottle. The one I had hidden under my bed. I thought I had hid it. How did I reach there.

My blood turned to ice.

Elias reached for it.

Panic surged through me and I saw myself grabbing his wrist, stopping him, and with trembling fingers shoved the bottle into the drawer before he could touch it.

His eyes returned to me, hazy but burning, shifting from suspicion to something darker.

He caught my chin, tilting my face toward his.

And then he leaned in and claimed my lips.

Not gently. Not carefully.

It was a hungry, dangerous kiss that stole the air from my lungs.

I froze, heart hammering, a thousand reasons to pull away clawing at me:

Philip’s memory. Elias’s threats. The weight of everything I swore I wouldn’t feel.

But my body betrayed me, aching for what I should despise.

And then I melted against him, unable to resist, kissing him back with every ounce of fire I had buried deep.

It was reckless. It was ruinous.

It was everything I should not want.

Desire roared through me, fierce and unstoppable.

His touch seared as his hand traced the curve of my waist, sliding lower, lower, threatening to claim what I had never meant to give.

I trembled on the edge of surrender,

until a sharp knock split the air, cleaving the moment in two.