His to Ruin

He Used to Catch Me When I Fell

Abraham was mid-bite on the crust of his pizza when he suddenly froze. His eyes widened just a little that telltale sign that a big idea was taking shape in his head. He gently set the slice back on his plate, sat up straighter with a look of deep contemplation, and then turned to Alec with a seriousness that looked almost comical on his little face.

“Uncle Alec,” he said, dropping his voice a notch.

Alec was still chewing, one eyebrow raised, but he didn’t say a word. That was enough of a cue for Abraham to keep going.

“Do I have permission... to enter your secret library?”

The spoon in my hand paused midair.

I turned quickly, heart skipping half a beat. “What?” I blurted out, faster than anyone else could respond. “We already agreed... all your books are in your room, remember? The shelves are full. You even need a little step stool to reach the top ones.”

Abraham whipped his head toward me, clearly annoyed, like someone who’d just been interrupted mid-negotiation.

“But Mommy, that’s different!” he said, his voice pitching up half an octave. “Those are kids’ books. Books I’ve already read. The ones with ducks and rockets and sometimes aliens. But Uncle Alec’s library... that’s like a museum, right?”

I wanted to say no. I really did.

That library was the second biggest room in the mansion, right after Alec’s office. Two stories tall, walls lined with old wooden bookshelves and sliding ladders that ran the length of the aisles. The collection inside wasn’t just rare. It was... dark. In every sense of the word.

Ancient legal texts, trade records from the old mafia days, biographies of people no school would ever teach about, and French novels I didn’t even dare to touch.

Abraham had never seen it. I had back when Alec’s house was still on the other side of New York, back when everything was still okay.

I didn’t know if the books had changed since then or not, but either way, I would’ve much preferred Abraham never laid eyes on them.

“Abe,” I said gently, trying to steady my voice, “that library’s not really for kids. We haven’t even gone through all the books in your room yet. There’s still one unopened box, right?”

But before I could offer up another reason, Alec leaned back in his chair, his eyes shifting from his plate to Abraham’s eager face.

“You can,” he said casually. “You’re allowed in.”

I nearly choked.

Abraham froze, mouth half open. Then he let out a long, dramatic groan of joy. “Yeeees!”

I stared at Alec with an expression somewhere between wanting to slap him and wanting to bang my head against the table.

But Abraham had already jumped down from his chair like a tiny rocket. “Uncle, do you really have a sliding ladder? I’ve always wanted to try one! And do you have books with gold lettering on the spine? And that globe that opens into a secret bar? But the bar just has juice, right? Apple juice?”

Alec tilted his head, watching the kid with an unreadable expression. “That globe’s locked.”

“Does it have a secret code?” Abraham asked, eyes wide with conspiratorial excitement.

Alec shrugged. “Maybe.”

I slumped in my chair, staring at the ceiling, silently praying there weren’t any open books about serial killers sitting on the lower shelves.

Abraham was already at the edge of the kitchen, bouncing in place.

“Uncle, let’s go! Let’s go now! I’m not promising I’ll be quiet, but I am promising I won’t touch anything that looks breakable. Unless it looks too interesting... then, well, no promises.”

Alec stood slowly, picked up his glass, and took a single sip. “You like to read?” he asked flatly.

Abraham nodded quickly. “A lot. But sometimes I make up my own stories if the pages are too many.”

Alec studied him for a second.

“Alright,” he said finally, setting down his glass. “Let’s see if you’re smart enough not to touch books that shouldn’t be opened.”

Abraham stood at attention, giving a little salute like a tiny soldier. “Yes, Commander of the Books!”

And with that, the two of them headed out—Alec’s strides calm and long, while Abraham bounced alongside him, still pointing at invisible bits of his overflowing imagination.

And me… I just stayed in the kitchen chair, staring at my empty plate, feeling like the only sane person in a house slowly turning into a circus.

::

This room was too tidy.

That was the first thing I noticed as soon as I stepped inside, letting the door click shut softly behind me. Everything was perfectly in place.

The bed was made with ivory-white sheets tucked just right, pillows arranged with the precision of a military-trained housekeeper. The vanity was spotless. No trace of dust. The mahogany wardrobe gleamed, not a single fingerprint on its polished surface.

But maybe that’s exactly why... this room didn’t feel like mine.

Not yet.

It had been almost a week since Alec showed me this room and, in his usual flat voice, said, “Use this.”

But ever since, I’d been sleeping in Abraham’s room more often than not. Right beside his bed, in the space where he tosses and talks in his sleep.

Tonight, finally, I decided to deal with what I’d been putting off.

I dropped my bag onto the bed and sat down, slowly unzipping it. Inside was a half-crumpled pile of documents: copies of Abraham’s birth certificate, medical records from a clinic in Maine, an old copy of my college diploma, and a brown folder with job proposals I still hadn’t sent out.

One by one, I laid them out on the bed, then stood up and opened the drawer in the bedside table. Somewhere safe enough. For now. Hidden, but easy to reach if… if something happened.

I had just tucked the last folder inside when a soft ding from my phone broke the silence.

I frowned.

The screen lit up. A notification popped up.

One message.

Sender: Danny.

It felt like the blood in my veins stopped moving.

More than five years. Five years without a single message. Five years since the last time I saw my brother’s face in a room filled with screams, blood, and choices that couldn’t be undone.

My hand trembled as I tapped the screen, opening the message.

“Alec told me you’re in New York.”

“Let’s meet. I promise I won’t tell our parents.”

I sat down slowly, like my body had suddenly become too heavy to stand. The words glowed on the screen, black on white, but it felt like someone had splashed red across my thoughts.

Danny.

The eldest of the Abelli family. Our father’s golden boy—Dominic Abelli—once nearly his heir, before Camilla. The brother who used to protect me from everything: the cruel school days, our impossible father, and a world that was more fists than arms.

But also the man who… said nothing when everything fell apart.

After Camilla died, Danny vanished from my life. I never knew if he believed me or not. Never knew if he hated me, forgave me, or simply decided I didn’t exist anymore.

And now he knew I was here.

Not because of an investigation.

Because Alec told him.

I wrapped the phone in both hands, pressing my forehead to my fingers.

Why would Alec tell him?

Or… maybe Alec wanted me to meet Danny. Maybe this was part of something I didn’t understand yet. Or maybe… it was just temptation. One more trap door in ground that already felt too fragile.

From somewhere in the west wing, I could faintly hear Abraham laughing. Distant. Safe. For now.

But my mind was already drifting backward.

To Danny’s eyes, always sharp, always kind. To his voice, once telling me, “If you fall, you come to me before anyone else.”

And to the last night we ever spoke when he said nothing at all.

I looked back at the message.

My fingers moved to the screen.

Typed.

Deleted.

Typed again.

Paused.

I didn’t know what I was going to do.

But I knew one thing:

If I replied… I’d be opening a door I’d never be able to close again.