Chapter 9 – Blood and Lies
1236 Words
The sealed envelope still lay in Amelia’s lap like a stone as the black sedan glided through the rain-slick streets of Manhattan. The words on the paper were few, but they carved deep:
"The past is never buried. Ask Aiden what really happened to Elena."
Amelia stared out the window, her reflection blurred and ghostly. Her mind replayed those words again and again, her heart pounding with a quiet dread she hadn’t felt since her father died.
Beside her, Liam was tense. His jaw tight, his hand gripping the door handle with so much force his knuckles whitened. He hadn’t said a word in ten minutes. Not since reading the note.
She turned toward him. "Are we going to talk about this?"
He looked at her, and for a moment, she saw the boy beneath the man. Haunted. Wounded. Lost.
"I tried calling Aiden. He's not answering."
"Do you think he—" she couldn’t even finish the sentence.
Liam didn't respond. His silence was answer enough.
---
The car pulled up outside a modest brownstone on the Upper West Side—elegant but understated. Ivy climbed the red bricks, and the glow of antique lanterns lit the stone path to the door.
Liam stepped out and motioned for Amelia to follow.
"Where are we?" she asked.
"Elena’s aunt lives here. Darlene. She might know something Aiden never told me."
Amelia followed Liam to the door. He knocked. After a few moments, a stooped woman in her late sixties answered, her sharp gray eyes flicking between them.
"Liam," she said coolly. "It’s been a long time."
"I need to talk to you. About Elena."
The woman studied Amelia, then stepped aside. "Come in."
The interior of the brownstone was warm and dim, filled with antique furniture, porcelain figurines, and the scent of lavender. Every surface was crowded with photographs of Elena—laughing, dancing, pregnant, posing beside a younger Liam.
Amelia felt like she’d stepped into a shrine.
They sat in a parlor lit by a single brass lamp. Darlene poured tea with hands that shook slightly.
"I always knew the truth would surface," she said. "Even if it came late."
Liam leaned forward, elbows on knees. "Did Aiden visit you? After she died?"
Darlene nodded. "Only once. He brought lilies. Said he was sorry. Said he didn’t mean for it to happen."
Amelia’s stomach dropped. "What did he mean?"
The old woman met her eyes. "He didn’t say. But there was fear in his voice. Real fear. Like something terrible had gone too far."
Liam looked away. "Why wouldn’t he tell me?"
"Because you were in love with her," Darlene said simply. "And he wasn’t supposed to be."
Amelia’s eyes widened. "You’re saying—"
"There were rumors. Elena never confirmed them. But I saw the signs. The way Aiden looked at her. The way she tried to distance herself. She was scared. And when she died… I always wondered."
Liam stood, pacing now. "So all this time, he’s been pretending to be the loyal brother while hiding a secret like that?"
Amelia stood too. "Then we confront him. Together."
---
Later that evening, Aiden finally responded. A single message:
> Meet me at the Black Diamond. Midnight.
The Black Diamond Club was not the kind of place you entered casually. It was high above the city on the 40th floor of a sleek glass tower, draped in secrecy and velvet.
Liam and Amelia arrived just before midnight. Inside, the club was bathed in red and gold. Jazz music played low in the background, and men in tuxedos whispered in corners while women with diamond necklaces clinked glasses of champagne.
Aiden was at the bar.
Dressed in a navy suit, no tie, he looked too calm. Too polished. A glass of bourbon sat untouched in front of him.
When he saw them, he stood and smirked. "You came."
Liam didn't return the pleasantry. "Start talking."
Aiden raised a brow. "To which part? The part where you pretend this isn’t about jealousy? Or the part where you finally admit you never really knew her?"
"What happened the night Elena died?" Amelia cut in. "No more riddles."
Aiden’s smile faded.
He took a slow breath, then said, "She called me. She was crying. She’d found out Liam had her followed. There was a tracker in her purse. Security footage of every move she made."
Liam looked gutted. "She was pregnant. I was trying to protect her."
Aiden ignored him. "She asked me to help her leave. Said she couldn’t live like that. I told her to wait. That I’d talk to Liam. But she didn’t listen. She got in her car…"
He trailed off.
Amelia pressed gently. "Then what?"
"Then I did something stupid," Aiden whispered. "I followed her. Not to stop her—but to talk to her. I didn’t want her to run. But when I reached the intersection… she was already gone. The crash had happened."
Liam’s hands shook. "Why didn’t you tell me?"
"Because I was afraid you’d blame me. And because—" Aiden stopped.
"Because you loved her," Amelia said.
Aiden met her eyes. There was no denial.
Liam launched forward, grabbing his brother by the collar. "You loved her, and you lied to me for years?!"
The two brothers collided, fists flying, knocking over bar stools. Security rushed in, but Amelia raised her hand. "Don’t. Let them fight."
They needed this. Needed to bleed it out.
Liam pinned Aiden to the floor, breathing hard. "You had every chance to tell me the truth. You let me hate myself."
Aiden coughed. "I loved her, but she chose you. Always you."
Silence fell.
Finally, Liam stood, chest heaving. He looked at Amelia.
"Let’s go."
---
Back at the penthouse, Liam stood in the shower for over twenty minutes. Amelia sat on the bed, legs tucked under her, watching the city lights flicker like distant stars.
When he emerged, steam curling around him, he looked exhausted.
He crossed to her, dropping to his knees in front of her. "I failed her."
"You tried to protect her."
"And I drove her away."
"Maybe. But you’ve changed, Liam. You’re not the man who tracked his wife like a criminal. You’re the man kneeling in front of me, broken. And I still choose you."
He reached for her, pulling her into his arms, burying his face in her lap.
She stroked his hair as he whispered, "I don’t deserve you."
"Then become the man who does."
---
The next morning, Amelia was jolted awake by her phone buzzing. A message from an unknown number:
> Check your email. Truth doesn’t stay buried forever.
She opened her inbox. An anonymous email with attachments. Photos. Screenshots. Documents.
Her blood froze.
One image showed Aiden and Elena at a hotel—arms around each other. Another was a wire transfer from Evelyn Blackwood’s private account to an off-shore company registered in Elena’s name.
There were receipts. Emails. Proof of a planned escape.
"Liam," she called.
He came rushing in, and she handed him the phone.
He scrolled through the evidence, rage simmering beneath his skin. "She was planning to leave the country. With Aiden."
"Or Evelyn was trying to pay her off to disappear," Amelia suggested.
"And when she wouldn’t?"
He didn’t finish the sentence.
But they both knew.
This wasn’t just a tragedy anymore.
It was a murder.
- Writer
