Episode 2-The man behind the name
916 Words
He exhales slowly. "Your family's debts. Paid. Your mother gets the best medical care. Your sister's education, fully funded."
"How long?"
"How long what?"
"The marriage. How long do I have to be married to him?"
"A year. One year. After that, you can walk away. It's in the contract."
A contract. The Logans love contracts. My father signed one. Look where that got him.
"I need to think."
"Olivia…."
"I need to think." I grab the Harrison papers, crumpling them. "You can't expect me to decide this in five minutes."
He nods. His face is gray. "Take all the time you need. But don't take too long. Sebastian Logan isn't patient."
I turn and walk out.
The hallway is endless, but I'm not counting doors anymore. I'm thinking about my mother's face when I tell her. Chloe's rage. My father, cold in the ground, and the man who put him there.
And Aiden Logan. The son. The one who's supposedly not like his father.
I wonder if he knows what his father did. I wonder if he's sitting somewhere right now, waiting to find out if some poor girl is desperate enough to sell herself to his family.
I guess I'm going to find out.
Because even as I walk toward the elevator, even as I press the button with shaking hands, even as I tell myself I haven't decided…..I know the truth.
I'm going to say yes.
For my mother. For my sister. For the future Chloe deserves.
I'm going to marry a Logan.
My phone buzzes as the elevator doors close.
A text from an unknown number: "He's not what you think. Neither is your father's death."
I stare at the screen, heart pounding.
I type back: Who is this?
Three dots appear. Then disappear. Then appear again.
"Someone who knows the truth. Meet me. Tomorrow. Central Library. Third floor. Come alone."
The elevator opens. I step out into the cold afternoon, gripping my phone.
I should ignore this. I should go home.
But my fingers move before I can stop them.
What truth?
The reply comes instantly: "About your father. About who really killed him."
The world tilts sideways.
Adrian's POV:
The brush moves slowly across the canvas. A woman with her back turned, walking away through a field of flowers. Or fire. I've been working on her for three weeks.
My painting room is at the end of the hall. Door always locked. No one comes in here. My father thinks I spend my evenings reading reports.
He doesn't know about the canvases stacked against the walls. He doesn't know me at all.
The canvas doesn't leave. My mother did.
I was six. She said she loved me. She said she'd come back. I watched her walk out and never saw her again. My father never talked about it.
He just became the man everyone fears. And he raised me the same. Cold. Untouchable.
He succeeded.
The phone buzzes. I don't want to look. I know who it is.
"Father."
"Aiden." His voice is cold. Commanding. "Three o'clock tomorrow. My house."
"I have meetings."
"Cancel them."
I closed my eyes. This is how it always goes.
"What's this about?"
"Business. A merger with Jonathan Holdings. It comes with a condition."
I waited.
"The owner has an employee. Olivia Hughes. She's going to be your wife."
The words don't make sense.
"You're blackmailing someone into marrying me?"
"I'm negotiating. Her family is poor. Her mother is sick. We're giving her a way out.”
"You don't do charity."
"Watch your tone."
"No. You can't just…."
"I can. I am. It's done." His voice drops. "Friday. Ten AM. The lawyer's office. You will sign. One year. After that, do what you want."
Fighting Sebastian costs more than it's worth. "Why her?"
There was a pause. Long.
"Because her mother is Magdalene Hughes."
The name means nothing.
"Someone I knew a long time ago." His voice softens. Almost. "This isn't just business, Aiden. This is personal."
He hangs up.
I stare at the painting. The woman walking away. I picked up the brush. Dip it in black, and painted over everything.
But something stops me.
Magdalene Hughes. I remember now. A file I found in his study years ago.
A photograph. A young woman, beautiful, smiling. On the back, in my father's handwriting: Magdalene. 1985. Before she chose him.
I thought it was some old girlfriend.
Now my father is forcing me to marry her daughter.
This really isn't business. This is something older. Something that's been burning in him for decades.
I pick up my phone. Scroll to a number I haven't called in years.
Magdalene Hughes. History with my father. Find everything. Olivia Hughes. Her daughter. Full profile. Before Friday.
I hit send.
I don't know this woman I'm supposed to marry. But I'm going to find out what he's really planning.
Author's POV:
Across the city, Olivia sits in her car, hands still shaking.
Her phone buzzes.
"Your father didn't die from shock. He was poisoned. Slowly. Night after night."
She reads the words three times.
"Doctor Charles Weiller. The one who gave him the sleeping pills. The ones you gave him every night."
Her hand flies to her mouth. The pills she poured. The pills she placed in her father's hand.
"You're lying."
"Ask yourself why Weiller insisted on being the only doctor. Why he came at night."
She can't breathe.
"Who are you?"
"Central Library. Tomorrow. Noon. Come alone."
- Writer
