I FORGOT HIM BUT MY HEART DIDN'T

Bonus Chapter

Bonus Scene: The Snake's Trail

The leather interior of the Mercedes smelled of rain and ozone, but inside Julian Blackwood’s mind, the scent was pure rot.

He sat in the dark driveway of his townhome, the engine idling with a low, expensive purr. His fingers tapped a rhythmic, impatient beat against the polished walnut steering wheel. The confrontation with Lucien had gone exactly as planned. The boy was broken, terrified, and ready to sign away the family, an irritation clawed at the back of Julian’s throat.

The bookstore girl.

Lucien’s excuse had been too smooth, too rehearsed. A rare book delivery in the middle of a torrential downpour? Unlikely.

Julian reached into his breast pocket, pulling out a heavy, gold-plated lighter. He snapped it open, the small flame illuminating the cold, sharp angles of his face. His mind drifted back to the foyer floor, specifically to the faint, dark smudge near the velvet curtains. It hadn't been mud. It had been a microscopic trail of black charcoal dust.

The girl trades in sketches, not rare editions.

"Stupid," Julian muttered, snapping the lighter shut, plunging the car back into shadow. "A stupid, sentimental risk."

He shifted the car into reverse, intending to drive down to the local bookstore apartment complex and ensure the little b***h knew her place. But as he reached across the passenger seat to grab his leather briefcase, his hand knocked against his spare umbrella. It rolled onto the floorboards, striking a small metal box he kept tucked under the seat.

The secret security box.

Julian froze. His snake-like smile completely vanished, replaced by a sudden, icy dread.

Ten years ago, after the smoke had cleared and the bodies had been buried, Julian had searched the ruins for his brother's private ledger. He had found the reinforced study, but the lock was an ancient, unpickable mechanism. In his frantic search of the family's secondary properties, he had discovered that his brother had commissioned two identical keys.

Julian had recovered one from his brother's charred coat. But the second key the duplicate hidden inside a young girl's personal keepsake before she was pushed into the smoke had vanished.

For a decade, Julian had kept the single recovered key locked away in this very car, waiting for a specialist corrupt enough to clone the intricate crest pattern without alerting the board.

Slowly, deliberately, Julian reached under the seat and pulled out the metal box. He popped the latch.

The velvet lining inside was completely empty.

A choked, furious sound escaped his throat. His mind raced, connecting the dots with terrifying speed. The girl hadn't just been at the mansion today. She had broken into his property weeks ago, or perhaps... perhaps she had always possessed it, tucked away in whatever childhood relic she had managed to smuggle out of the fire. And tonight, Lucien's reaction had given it away.

"She has it," Julian hissed, his eyes turning wild and bloodshot. "The little rat has the key."

He slammed his foot onto the gas pedal. The Mercedes roared to life, tires screeching against the wet pavement as he spun the vehicle back toward the hill.

The storm boundaries blurred as he tore through the empty, rain-slicked streets of the town. He didn't head for the front gates this time. He knew the estate's blind spots better than anyone. He killed the headlights a quarter-mile out, letting the expensive vehicle glide through the downpour like a predatory shark in dark water.

He parked hidden beneath a cluster of weeping willows near the north boundary wall.

Stepping out into the driving rain, Julian didn't bother with his umbrella. He pulled a sleek, black revolver from his glove box, checking the cylinder with a practiced, cold-blooded efficiency. The metal felt right in his hand heavy, final, and absolute.

He slipped through the unlocked pedestrian gate, his leather shoes making no sound against the mud. As he rounded the corner of the north wing, his eyes locked onto a sight that made his blood run cold.

The hidden side door, completely buried under a decade of ivy, was standing wide open.

A faint, trembling beam of white light from a cellphone flashlight was visibly moving up the interior staircase.

Julian’s lips pulled back into a cruel, venomous sneer. He stepped over the threshold, pulling the heavy oak door shut behind him to cut off their only exit. He adjusted his damp cuffs, lifted the revolver, and began to climb the stairs in perfect, terrifying silence.

They had done the hard work for him. They had opened the tomb. Now, it was time to bury them inside it.