His to Ruin

Locked That Truth Away

My footsteps echoed softly in the long hallway separating the living room from the library. The deep red oriental rug dulled the sound a bit, but still../in a house this big, silence had its own echo. The night air slipped in through the tall windows, carrying the scent of aged leather and fine dust that lived between the shelves.

I stopped at the library’s threshold.

The copper chandelier glowed gently from the high ceiling, casting warm light across the dark wooden shelves that reached all the way up to the second floor. A sliding ladder rested against its metal rail, and the reading table in the center of the room was scattered with yellowed papers and two untouched cups of tea.

And there—right in the middle of it all—was Abraham, sitting cross-legged on the carpet, his face lit up with excitement like a tiny professor explaining the most important theory in the world.

Alec sat reclined in a dark leather chair, one leg crossed over the other, an old book open in his hand. He hadn’t said a word, but his head was tilted slightly down, his eyes fixed on Abraham, following the boy’s endless chatter with a kind of silence that didn’t feel distant… but attentive.

Alec was actually listening.

I stood still, not wanting to walk in just yet. My eyes landed on the two of them. Two people bound by blood, separated only by a truth that hadn’t been spoken aloud.

And for a moment... it felt peaceful.

I imagined what it would be like if Alec knew. Truly knew.

That the little boy rambling on the floor was part of him. Flesh and blood. That Abraham’s laughter, free and honest, was a smaller version of something Alec had never known in himself. That the shape of his eyes, the way his brow furrowed when he thought too hard, even his habit of sitting quietly before asking a question... all of it had been passed down from Alec Romano.

And if he knew?

What would he do?

My chest tightened.

Because the answer to that question wasn’t what—it was who.

Who Alec would become when the truth touched him.

And the answer, so far, had always been: a man who could make someone disappear without a trace. A man whose hands were too familiar with blood, and who never looked back.

I didn’t want Abraham to know what kind of man his father was. And more than that, I didn’t want Alec to know that the small world Abraham lived in... was also his to protect.

I pushed the thought away. Forced it back into the locked room I kept it in.

Then I stepped inside.

The floor was cool beneath my feet, but the warm light and the scent of old books greeted me like an unfinished memory trying to pull me home.

Abraham turned quickly, his eyes locking onto mine. “Mommy! Uncle Alec showed me a book about stars and planets! But not the fake kind like in the kids’ books!”

I gave a small smile, walking closer. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah!” Abraham stood and pointed at the table. “Look! It has drawings of the night sky from 1781! And stars that don’t even exist anymore! And there’s handwriting from the guy who discovered them, his writing looks like chicken scratches, but Uncle Alec can read it! He’s like... like a walking library!”

I glanced at Alec, who didn’t deny it. He calmly closed the book, tapping the cover twice like sealing a vault.

“Maybe he’s a robot who absorbs books,” Abraham whispered, eyes wide. “Like a library... that walks.”

“You have a new theory every day,” I said, brushing my fingers through his messy hair.

“But this isn’t a theory,” he said, very seriously. “This is field research.”

I laughed quietly. Alec rose from his chair. Tall, composed, still somehow commanding the whole room without needing to do anything. His eyes were the same as always: calculating, measuring, deciding... even when he looked like he was just standing there.

“He’s a sharp kid,” Alec said softly, his eyes never leaving mine.

I didn’t reply. Because to respond to that… would mean choosing my words too carefully.

Alec grabbed another book from the shelf and handed it to Abraham. “Take this to your room. But don’t open it in bed. The ink’s delicate. It can smudge.”

Abraham received it like Alec had just handed him the key to some hidden museum chamber. “Can I read it tonight?”

“Half,” Alec said firmly. “And the other half tomorrow.”

Abraham nodded solemnly, like he was sealing an important deal.

Then he bolted from the room, clutching the book tightly, his footsteps quick as he disappeared down the hallway.

I stood exactly where I was.

Alec watched the door swing shut, then said, “Your kid’s brain is too big for an ordinary life.”

I turned to him, slowly. “And extraordinary lives... are too expensive for four-year-olds.”

Alec tilted his head toward me, his gaze cutting through more than I wanted it to tonight. “Then who’s going to pay the price?” he asked.

And for a few seconds, neither of us said anything.

But the answer hung there in the air..like dust between old bookshelves.

Me.

I waited until the sound of Abraham’s footsteps had fully disappeared at the end of the hall.

Until I heard the soft click of his door closing.

Only then did I speak. “I got a message from my brother.”

Alec didn’t respond.

He stood facing the bookshelf, one hand trailing across the spines of the leather-bound volumes lined in perfect order, like he was trying to decide which one to read or reopen from memory. The light from the chandelier fell across his back, casting sharp lines across shoulders that stood too straight, too steady. No unnecessary movements. No reaction.

“He said you told him I’m in New York,” I said quietly.

Alec finally pulled out an old book, but didn’t open it. He turned halfway, looking at me. His eyes were sharp, as always, but there was no flare in them. Like someone who knew the question was coming and had rehearsed the answer long ago.

“I did,” he said.

Just like that.

I held my breath. “Why?”

“Because he’s your brother.”

“That’s not an answer,” I replied, my tone colder than I intended.

Alec placed the book on the table, then leaned back against the wood, one hand still tucked in his pocket. His posture was relaxed, but every inch of him said one thing: I’m in control.

“You think you were the only one who lost something five years ago?” he asked.

I frowned, unmoving. “Danny lost Camilla. Not me.”

“Danny lost both of you,” Alec shot back. “One was buried. The other vanished. Not a word. Not a single explanation.”

My fingers curled into the fabric of my skirt. “He didn’t look for me.”

“Because he knew if he did, it would destroy him,” Alec said. “And because of that... I told him to stop.”

I froze.

Alec stepped closer. Slowly. His footsteps were nearly silent against the hardwood floor, but they echoed like thunder in my chest.

“You needed silence, back then. Safety. The world thought you were dead, or had disappeared overseas. I let that story live. And Danny was angry as he was, shattered as he was, respected my call.”

I stared at him. “So why change that now?”

Alec stopped in front of me. We were no more than a breath apart. “Because now I’m the one who needs answers, Daniella.”

My eyes narrowed. “Answers to what?”

“To what really happened that night.” His voice dropped a note. Low, and cold. “Why you chose to disappear. What made you believe that I, of all people, was your last resort now.”

I held my breath. But he wasn’t done.

“And because part of that answer... is in Danny.”

I let out a short, bitter laugh. “So this is an investigation?”

“No,” he said quickly. “This is... a clearing. I want to know which parts of your past I can still trust.”

I turned my face away, needing the distance. If I looked at him too long, I’d break. Not from anger. But from the opposite.

“I don’t need him right now,” I murmured.

“Maybe not,” Alec nodded. “But he needs you. And he deserves to know that you’re still alive. That the sister he spent half his life protecting... isn’t completely gone.”

I looked back at him. “And Abraham?”

Alec held my gaze for a long moment.

“I haven’t decided if Danny deserves to know about that yet.”

The blood drained from my face.

“You made that decision on your own?” I asked, barely above a whisper.

Alec didn’t blink. “Same way you did. Five years ago.”

Silence settled between us. heavy, like the books watching from the shelves. Silent witnesses to history, lies, and feelings left unresolved.

And in the middle of all of it, one thought echoed louder than the rest:

Even when Alec spoke of honesty... he still sounded like a threat wrapped in logic.

And the scariest part was I didn’t know whether I wanted to fight him… or hand him every secret I had.