Isla Was Never Her Name

The Trust

"Julian."

The name stayed in the room.

I looked at Adrian.

Then at Alexander.

Neither man seemed willing to speak.

I had expected a stranger.

A hidden businessman.

Someone I had never heard of.

Instead, the name belonged to the Blackwood family.

"Your brother," I repeated.

Adrian nodded once.

"My older brother."

"And he died the same year as the fire?"

"That's what we were told."

"What do you mean, that's what you were told?"

Adrian looked away.

Alexander walked to the window.

"My father told us Julian drowned."

"Did you see his body?"

"No."

"Did anyone?"

Alexander shook his head.

"There was never a body."

I stared at him.

"So you don't actually know that he died."

"No."

The room suddenly felt smaller.

I looked at Adrian.

"You said your father told you there was a loose end connected to the warehouse."

"Yes."

"Was that Julian?"

Adrian's eyes stayed on mine.

"I don't know."

"But you suspect it."

He didn't answer.

That was enough.

I stepped closer.

"Tell me everything you know."

Adrian took a slow breath.

"Julian was different from my father."

"Different how?"

"He didn't care about the family business."

Alexander gave a short, bitter laugh.

"That's an understatement."

Adrian glanced at him.

"Julian hated the way our father did business."

I looked between them.

"What did he hate?"

"The acquisitions," Alexander said. "The way my grandfather and father bought companies after destroying their owners."

My stomach tightened.

"Destroyed them?"

"Sometimes a company would suddenly lose a major contract. Sometimes a bank would call in a loan. Sometimes a competitor would offer a deal the owner couldn't refuse."

"And then Blackwood Industries bought them."

Alexander nodded.

"Usually for a fraction of their value."

I thought about what he had told me in the study.

Blackwood had bought Ashford after the fire.

A worthless property.

A property my mother had died in.

"What did Julian do?"

Adrian answered.

"He started asking questions."

"About Ashford?"

"About everything."

He walked toward the desk and leaned against it.

"Julian was twenty-nine when he disappeared. He had access to parts of the company our father didn't want him looking at. He found payments that didn't make sense."

"Payments to whom?"

"We never found out."

"Then why was he afraid?"

Adrian looked at me.

"Because two weeks before he supposedly drowned, he told me he thought someone inside the company was following him."

I felt a chill.

"Did you believe him?"

"I was twenty-one."

His voice was quieter now.

"I thought he was being paranoid."

"What happened after that?"

"He disappeared."

"And your father said he drowned."

"Yes."

"Did you believe your father?"

Adrian looked down.

"At the time."

I studied his face.

"You don't anymore."

"No."

"Why?"

"Because of you."

I frowned.

"What do I have to do with Julian?"

"Everything."

The word was quiet.

But it hit me harder than if he had shouted it.

Adrian pushed away from the desk.

"When I saw you at the engagement dinner, I remembered something."

"What?"

"Julian showed me a photograph once."

My heart began beating faster.

"What photograph?"

"A photograph of your mother."

I stopped breathing.

"My mother?"

"Yes."

"Why did he have a photograph of her?"

"I don't know."

"You must know something."

"I don't."

He looked frustrated with himself.

"Julian showed it to me because he was trying to prove something. He said your mother knew about the warehouse records."

"That doesn't explain why he had her photograph."

"He said she was one of the people who could expose what our father was doing."

I shook my head.

"My mother worked at Ashford. She wasn't part of your family."

"That's why Julian was interested in her."

I stared at him.

"Did he ever meet her?"

"I don't know."

"Did my mother know Julian?"

"I don't know."

I turned toward Alexander.

"What about your father?"

He was still standing near the window.

"What?"

"Did your father know my mother?"

Alexander turned.

"I don't know."

"Everyone keeps saying that."

His face tightened.

"I can't give you answers I don't have."

"But you have access to everything."

"Not everything."

"You're his son."

"And he's dead."

His voice was sharper now.

"Do you think being his son means he told me every secret he had?"

"No."

I looked away.

"Then what do you know?"

Alexander was quiet for several seconds.

"My father kept a private office."

Adrian looked at him.

"You never told me that."

"I didn't know if it was relevant."

"It is now."

Alexander continued.

"There was a room beneath the old house."

I frowned.

"Your father's house?"

"Before this estate."

"Where is it?"

"Abandoned."

"Why?"

"After he died, we closed it."

"What's inside?"

"I don't know."

I looked at him.

"You don't know?"

"I was never allowed inside."

Adrian gave a humorless smile.

"Neither was I."

I looked at both men.

Two Blackwood brothers.

One dead father.

One missing brother.

A hidden room.

A dead woman who might still be alive.

And me.

Somehow, I was connected to all of it.

"What was Julian like?" I asked.

Adrian looked surprised by the question.

"Why?"

"Because everyone keeps talking about him like he was a ghost."

He looked toward the floor.

"Julian was kind."

I waited.

"He was the person I went to when I had problems. He was the only person in our family who listened without trying to control the outcome."

Something changed in Adrian's voice.

"He taught me how to drive. He took me fishing. He used to tell me that being a Blackwood didn't mean I had to become like our father."

A small smile appeared on his face.

It disappeared almost immediately.

"I haven't talked about him in years."

"Why?"

"Because there was no body."

He looked at me.

"It's difficult to grieve someone when part of you keeps expecting them to walk through the door."

I understood that feeling.

My mother had been dead for eight years.

Or so I thought.

I sat down.

For the first time that night, I felt tired.

Not physically.

Something deeper.

As if every answer had taken away another piece of the life I thought I knew.

"Why would someone hide me for eight years?" I asked.

Neither man answered.

"I want a real answer."

Adrian looked at Alexander.

Alexander looked back.

Then Adrian said, "Because you knew something."

"I was twelve."

"You may not have understood what you saw."

"What did I see?"

"Someone."

My stomach tightened.

"Who?"

"We don't know."

"Then how can you say I saw someone?"

"Because Julian believed you did."

I stared at him.

"What did Julian say?"

Adrian's face became distant.

"He told me your mother was afraid that night."

"Of the fire?"

"No."

He paused.

"Of a person."

The room went silent.

"Who?"

"She never told him."

"Then how did he know?"

"He said he saw her arguing with someone at Ashford."

"When?"

"The day before the fire."

My hands went cold.

"My mother argued with someone?"

"Yes."

"Did he say who?"

"No."

"Did he know what they were arguing about?"

"He said something about records."

I remembered the photograph Renata had shown me.

My mother standing outside the warehouse.

My father's face.

The old building behind them.

There had been something else in that photograph.

A shadow.

A man standing behind them.

I suddenly remembered the unknown message.

Ask about the photograph.

I pulled out my phone.

Alexander noticed.

"Who are you calling?"

"No one."

I opened the message again.

The photograph was still there.

I looked at it carefully.

Then I enlarged the image.

The man in the background was barely visible.

Dark coat.

Dark hair.

One hand in his pocket.

I looked at Adrian.

"Have you seen this person before?"

He came closer.

Alexander moved beside him.

Both men looked at the screen.

Adrian's expression changed.

"Where did you get that?"

"Someone sent it to me."

"Who?"

"I don't know."

Adrian took the phone from my hand.

He studied the photograph.

Then he zoomed in.

Alexander leaned closer.

"What?"

Adrian didn't answer.

I watched his face.

"Adrian."

He looked at me.

"That's Julian."

The phone nearly slipped from my hand.

"You're sure?"

"I'd know my brother anywhere."

Alexander stared at the photograph.

"But that's impossible."

"Why?"

"Because the photograph was taken after he supposedly drowned."

I looked at the date written underneath the image.

Eight years ago.

Two days before the fire.

My head began spinning.

"If Julian was alive two days before the fire, then he could have been at Ashford."

"Yes," Adrian said.

"And he could have known my mother."

"Yes."

"And he could have known what happened."

"Yes."

I looked at him.

"Then why would he disappear?"

Adrian didn't answer.

Alexander did.

"Maybe he didn't."

I turned toward him.

"What do you mean?"

Alexander pointed at the photograph.

"Look at the background."

I stared.

There was a vehicle parked behind my parents.

Black.

Large.

Partially hidden by the building.

I zoomed in.

There was a symbol on the side.

A small silver mark.

I recognized it.

"The Blackwood crest."

Alexander nodded.

"That vehicle belonged to my father."

My heart began racing.

"Renata said my mother was put into a Blackwood car after the fire."

Adrian looked at Alexander.

"Which means someone from our family took her."

Alexander's face hardened.

"Or someone wanted it to look that way."

I looked at him.

"Why would anyone fake a Blackwood car?"

"To make us look guilty."

"Are you saying your family wasn't responsible?"

"I'm saying I don't know."

I was beginning to hate those words.

I don't know.

Nobody knew.

Nobody could tell me the truth.

And every time I found an answer, I found another question underneath it.

I stood.

"I need to see your father's old house."

Alexander shook his head.

"Not tonight."

"Why?"

"Because it's dangerous."

"I don't care."

"I do."

"You don't get to decide what I do anymore."

His expression changed.

"Isla—"

"I've spent eight years living according to decisions other people made for me."

My voice shook.

"My father changed my life. Renata changed my identity. Someone has been watching me. Your family buried the truth. And now I'm married to a man who chose me for reasons I still don't understand."

Alexander said nothing.

"I am done being kept in the dark."

Adrian looked at me.

"I'm going with you."

Alexander turned toward him.

"No."

"Why?"

"Because this has gone far enough."

Adrian's eyes hardened.

"You're worried about me being with her?"

"I'm worried about everyone."

"That's not what your face says."

I looked between them.

"Stop."

Both men became silent.

"I'm not a prize you're fighting over."

Alexander looked away.

Adrian lowered his eyes.

I walked toward the door.

"I am going to bed."

"Isla."

I turned.

Alexander stood near the desk.

"There is something else."

"What?"

He hesitated.

"My father left a box."

"What kind of box?"

"After he died, his lawyer gave it to me."

"What's inside?"

"I never opened it."

I stared at him.

"Why?"

"Because the instructions said it could only be opened if Julian was confirmed dead."

My heart stopped.

"When did your father write that?"

"Three months before his death."

"And Julian was already supposedly dead."

"Yes."

"Then why didn't you open it?"

"Because the lawyer told me my father had given him another instruction."

"What instruction?"

Alexander looked directly at me.

"If the box was ever opened, I was supposed to find you first."

I couldn't speak.

Adrian's face had gone pale.

"What does the box contain?" I finally asked.

Alexander walked to a locked cabinet.

He opened it.

Inside was a small black box.

He placed it on the desk.

There was no lock.

No key.

Just an envelope taped to the top.

My name was written on it.

Not Isla Bennett.

Not the name I had used for eight years.

My real name.

I stared at the handwriting.

I didn't recognize it.

But something inside me did.

I reached for the envelope.

Adrian caught my wrist.

"Wait."

I looked at him.

"Why?"

His eyes were fixed on the handwriting.

"Because I've seen that handwriting before."

"Where?"

He swallowed.

"On a letter Julian sent me the week before he disappeared."

My heart pounded.

"What did the letter say?"

Adrian didn't answer.

"Tell me."

He slowly released my wrist.

"It said one thing."

"What?"

He looked at Alexander.

Then back at me.

"Don't let them find the girl."

I stared at the envelope with my real name on it.

For eight years, I had believed the people who changed my identity were trying to hide me from the world.

Now I wasn't sure.

Maybe they weren't hiding me.

Maybe they were hiding the world from me.

I opened the envelope.

Inside was a single photograph.

I turned it over.

My hands began to shake.

It showed my mother.

She was alive.

She was standing beside Julian Blackwood.

And between them was a little girl.

Me.

On the back of the photograph, someone had written:

Julian didn't drown.

I looked up.

Adrian was staring at the photograph.

Alexander had gone completely still.

Then I saw the final line beneath it.

He came back for you.

And beneath those words was a date.

Tomorrow.