THE LAWYER WHO LOVED HER ENEMY

Chapter 9

CHAPTER NINE

THE FIRST PROMISE

For several seconds, neither Adrian nor I moved.

His mother's photograph remained on the screen.

Her hands tied.

Her eyes covered.

The message beneath it burned into my mind.

STOP THE INVESTIGATION OR SHE DIES.

Adrian stared at the screen as if refusing to believe what he was seeing.

I had never seen him look so helpless.

The arrogant, confident student who could argue with anyone in a courtroom was gone.

In his place was a son who was terrified of losing his mother.

"Adrian."

He didn't respond.

I touched his arm.

"Adrian."

He finally looked at me.

"We have to find her."

His jaw tightened.

"I know."

"We can't call the police."

He looked at me.

"Why?"

"Because whoever took her knows we're investigating. If we involve the police, they might hurt her."

He stared at me.

"You're right."

I took the phone from him.

"Let's examine the photograph."

He nodded.

I zoomed in.

The background was dark.

A concrete wall.

A metal chair.

A small window.

And in the corner—

something familiar.

I froze.

"Wait."

"What?"

I zoomed in again.

There was a symbol painted on the wall.

A black circle with a diagonal line through it.

I had seen it before.

"Where?"

Adrian leaned closer.

"What?"

"This symbol."

He stared at it.

Then his face changed.

"I know that."

"Where?"

"My father's old warehouse."

I looked at him.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"When?"

"Years ago."

"Where is it?"

"North district."

"Then let's go."

He grabbed his jacket.

"Serena."

"What?"

"You stay here."

I stared at him.

"No."

"It's dangerous."

"I'm coming."

"No."

"You need me."

"I need you safe."

"I don't care."

"I do."

The words stopped me.

He looked at me.

"I can't lose anyone else."

His voice was quiet.

Something inside my chest tightened.

I stepped closer.

"Then don't go alone."

He looked at me for a long moment.

Finally, he nodded.

"Okay."

---

We left the university through the back entrance.

Adrian's car was parked several streets away.

He drove quickly.

Neither of us spoke for several minutes.

Then I asked:

"Did your mother know about my father?"

"Yes."

"How much?"

"I don't know."

"Did she know Marcus?"

"Yes."

"Did she know what happened that night?"

"I think she knew more than she told me."

I looked at him.

"Like my mother."

He nodded.

"Maybe our mothers were trying to protect us."

"Or maybe they were protecting someone else."

He looked at me.

"That's possible."

I stared through the window.

"Do you regret helping me?"

"No."

"You don't even have to think about it?"

"No."

"Why?"

He glanced at me.

"Because I spent fifteen years being afraid of the truth."

He turned his attention back to the road.

"I'm tired of being afraid."

I smiled faintly.

"That's the first sensible thing you've said."

He laughed.

"You know, for someone who supposedly doesn't like me, you spend a lot of time insulting me."

"Maybe that's my love language."

The words escaped before I could stop them.

Silence.

My face became hot.

Adrian slowly looked at me.

"What did you say?"

"Nothing."

"You said—"

"I said nothing."

He smiled.

"A love language?"

"Forget it."

"I won't."

"Adrian."

He laughed.

For a few seconds, the fear disappeared.

And I was grateful.

Because I was beginning to realize that laughter had become one of the few things keeping us from falling apart.

---

The warehouse stood at the end of an abandoned industrial road.

The gate was locked.

Adrian climbed over it.

I followed.

"You're terrible at being a gentleman."

"I never claimed to be."

We walked toward the building.

The doors were partly open.

Inside, everything was dark.

Adrian turned on his phone flashlight.

"Stay close."

"I am."

He glanced behind him.

"Closer."

I rolled my eyes.

"You're becoming annoying."

"I'm trying to keep you alive."

"Fine."

I stepped closer.

Our shoulders touched.

Neither of us moved away.

We walked deeper inside.

Then we heard something.

A metallic sound.

Clang.

Adrian immediately stopped.

"Did you hear that?"

"Yes."

We moved toward the sound.

A door stood at the end of the hallway.

Adrian slowly opened it.

Empty.

Only boxes.

He sighed.

"Nothing."

I looked around.

"Maybe not."

I noticed a small piece of cloth on the floor.

I picked it up.

"Adrian."

He turned.

I held it out.

It was dark blue.

His mother's scarf.

His face went pale.

"That's hers."

I looked around.

"Then she was here."

He took the cloth.

His hands were shaking.

"We're close."

Suddenly—

a light turned on.

We spun around.

A man stood at the entrance.

The same man from the university.

The silver watch.

He smiled.

"You shouldn't have come."

Adrian stepped in front of me.

"Where is my mother?"

The man laughed.

"Still protecting everyone except yourself."

"Where is she?"

"Alive."

Adrian moved forward.

"Take me to her."

"No."

"Then what do you want?"

The man looked at me.

"The girl."

I stepped forward.

"What do you want from me?"

Adrian grabbed my arm.

"Don't."

The man smiled.

"You've been asking too many questions."

"About my father?"

"About everything."

"Who are you?"

He reached into his pocket.

For a moment, I thought he would pull out a weapon.

Instead, he threw a photograph onto the floor.

It landed at my feet.

I picked it up.

My father.

Again.

But this time, he was standing alone.

Behind him was a car.

And beside the car—

a young man.

I stared.

It was Marcus Reyes.

The stranger spoke.

"Your father trusted Marcus."

"Then why did Marcus betray him?"

The man's smile disappeared.

"Because Marcus didn't betray your father."

I froze.

"What?"

"Marcus was trying to save him."

Adrian stared at the man.

"Then who betrayed him?"

The man looked directly at me.

"Your mother."

I stepped backward.

"No."

"She made a deal."

"What deal?"

"Your father's life..."

He paused.

"...for yours."

The world seemed to stop.

"What are you talking about?"

"Your father discovered the network."

I shook my head.

"My mother wouldn't."

"She did."

"No."

The man continued.

"She was given a choice."

"You're lying."

"Ask her."

I felt tears burning my eyes.

"What happened to my father?"

The man looked at Adrian.

"He survived that night."

Adrian's eyes widened.

"What?"

"Your father didn't die on June 14."

My heart stopped.

"What?"

"He was alive."

"Then where is he?"

The man smiled.

"That's the question you should have been asking."

He stepped backward.

"Where is he?"

He didn't answer.

Instead, he threw something toward us.

A small key.

It landed on the floor.

"Your father left something for you."

I picked it up.

"What?"

The man turned.

"Find the room with no door."

Then he disappeared into the darkness.

Adrian immediately ran after him.

"Wait!"

I followed.

But by the time we reached the entrance, the man was gone.

Only his footsteps remained.

---

We returned to the center of the warehouse.

Adrian was breathing heavily.

"We lost him."

I stared at the key.

"What does he mean by a room with no door?"

Adrian looked around.

"Maybe it's here."

We searched.

Behind crates.

Under shelves.

Inside offices.

Nothing.

Then I noticed something.

A wall.

It looked ordinary.

But one section was slightly different.

I ran my fingers across it.

"Adrian."

He came closer.

"What?"

"There's a gap."

He pushed against the wall.

Nothing happened.

I searched the floor.

Then I saw a small keyhole.

I inserted the key.

Click.

The wall moved.

A hidden passage opened.

Adrian stared.

"Room with no door."

We entered.

Inside was a small room.

There were no windows.

No visible entrance except the passage we had just opened.

And on the wall were dozens of photographs.

My father.

My mother.

Victor.

Marcus.

Adrian.

Me.

I stepped closer.

There were photographs of me as a child.

Walking to school.

Playing outside.

Standing with my mother.

Even sleeping in our house.

My blood turned cold.

"Someone has been watching me for years."

Adrian looked horrified.

He took my hand.

"We need to leave."

"No."

I pointed to the wall.

"Look."

In the center was one photograph.

A picture of my father holding me when I was a baby.

Written underneath it:

THE HEIR.

I frowned.

"Heir to what?"

Adrian stared at the photograph.

"I don't know."

I moved to another.

It showed my father speaking with a man.

The man's face was scratched out.

Underneath:

THE LAST WITNESS.

Another photograph.

My mother.

THE PROTECTOR.

Another.

Marcus.

THE BETRAYER?

Another.

Victor.

THE KING.

Then Adrian.

I froze.

Under his photograph was one word.

THE KEY.

I turned toward him.

"What does that mean?"

He stared at his own photograph.

"I don't know."

But something in his face told me he might.

"Adrian."

He shook his head.

"I swear."

I believed him.

Then I saw another photograph.

Mine.

Except it wasn't recent.

It was taken only three days ago.

Me leaving the university.

Underneath it:

THE GIRL KNOWS.

My heart pounded.

Someone had been watching us.

Watching me.

Watching everything.

Then I noticed something behind the photograph.

A piece of paper.

I pulled it free.

It contained a single sentence.

When the girl learns the truth, the Cross heir must choose.

I looked at Adrian.

"What does it mean?"

He stared at the words.

"I don't know."

Then—

we heard a sound.

A door slamming somewhere outside.

Adrian immediately grabbed my hand.

"Someone's here."

We ran.

We reached the hallway.

Footsteps echoed behind us.

Someone was chasing us.

"Faster!"

We ran toward the exit.

A shadow appeared at the end of the corridor.

Adrian pulled me behind him.

"Stay behind me."

The man stepped closer.

I couldn't see his face.

Then the lights suddenly went out.

I heard a struggle.

A crash.

Adrian shouted.

I screamed his name.

"ADRIAN!"

The lights came back.

He was on the floor.

Blood was running from his forehead.

I rushed toward him.

"Adrian!"

He opened his eyes.

"I'm okay."

"You're bleeding!"

"It's nothing."

I helped him stand.

The man was gone.

We ran outside.

Rain had started falling.

We stood beneath the warehouse roof, breathing heavily.

Adrian leaned against the wall.

I touched the wound on his forehead.

He winced.

"Sorry."

"You don't have to apologize."

I looked at him.

"You got hurt because of me."

"No."

"Yes."

He shook his head.

"I got hurt because I chose to stand in front of you."

My eyes filled with tears.

"Why?"

He looked at me.

"Because I promised."

"What promise?"

He reached for my hand.

"I promised I wouldn't let anyone hurt you."

I stared at him.

"You made that promise when?"

"The first night you told me about your father."

I felt my heart ache.

"Adrian..."

He gently squeezed my hand.

"I'm not asking you to love me."

I froze.

"I'm not asking you to trust me completely."

He looked into my eyes.

"I'm only asking you to let me stay."

My lips trembled.

"Why?"

His answer was almost a whisper.

"Because somewhere between all these lies..."

He paused.

"...you became the truth I wanted to protect."

I couldn't speak.

I simply stepped forward and hugged him.

For several seconds, neither of us moved.

His arms slowly wrapped around me.

And for the first time, I allowed myself to feel safe in his arms.

But neither of us noticed the figure standing across the street.

Watching us.

Holding a phone.

The figure took a photograph.

Then sent it to an unknown number.

A message appeared beneath it.

THEY'RE TOGETHER NOW.

A reply came almost immediately.

GOOD.

LET THEM FALL IN LOVE.

IT WILL MAKE THE END MORE PAINFUL.