Chapter Four : Don't Lie to Me
1809 Words
Elena
For several seconds, Elena couldn't speak.
The words seemed impossible.
Voss blood.
She looked at Lucien, waiting for the cruelty in his expression to reveal itself.
It didn't.
He looked genuinely shaken.
"You're saying I'm related to your family?"
"I said you may be."
"That's not the same thing."
"No."
"Then explain."
Lucien's jaw tightened.
"I don't have all the answers."
"Convenient."
His eyes flashed.
"I'm not playing with you."
"Then stop speaking in riddles."
Elena stepped closer.
"You told me my mother was connected to your family. Now you're telling me I might be a Voss. I deserve an explanation."
"You deserve the truth."
"Then give it to me."
Lucien looked away.
That frightened her more than anger would have.
He walked toward his office.
"Come with me."
Elena followed.
The doors closed behind them.
Lucien crossed the room and opened a locked cabinet.
He removed an old black folder.
"This never leaves this room."
Elena stared at it.
"What's inside?"
"My family's history."
"Official records?"
"Some."
"And the rest?"
"Things my family wanted buried."
He placed the folder on the desk.
Elena opened it.
The first document was a photograph of an elderly man.
Lucien's grandfather.
Augustus Voss.
Beneath it was a family tree.
Elena's eyes moved down the names.
Augustus Voss had two sons.
Alexander Voss.
Adrian Voss.
She looked up.
"Your father was Alexander."
"Yes."
"And Adrian?"
"My uncle."
Elena continued reading.
There was a third section.
It had been blacked out.
She looked at Lucien.
"Why is this redacted?"
"Because that's where the problem begins."
He took the document from her.
"My grandfather had another child."
"Who?"
"We don't know."
Elena stared at him.
"You just told me you found out."
"We found evidence. Not a confirmed identity."
"Then how does that connect to me?"
Lucien said nothing.
Elena's frustration grew.
"You think I'm that child?"
"No."
The answer came too quickly.
"Then what?"
Lucien's gaze met hers.
"I think your mother knew who that child was."
Elena froze.
"And she took you away because of it."
"Why?"
"Because someone wanted the child dead."
The room went silent.
Elena felt cold.
"Who?"
"My grandfather."
She stared at him.
"You think your grandfather wanted to kill his own child?"
Lucien's expression was grim.
"Augustus Voss wasn't a good man."
"Then why didn't anyone stop him?"
"Because everyone was afraid of him."
Elena looked down at the photograph.
"Where is this child now?"
Lucien's eyes hardened.
"That's what we're trying to find out."
A strange thought entered Elena's mind.
"Maybe I'm not the person you're looking for."
"Maybe."
"But you're investigating me anyway."
"Yes."
"Why?"
Lucien hesitated.
"Because you walked into my company wearing a necklace belonging to my grandfather."
Elena's fingers went to her pendant.
"He gave it to my mother?"
"I don't know."
"Then who did?"
"I don't know."
"Why does everyone keep saying they don't know?"
"Because someone spent seventeen years making sure nobody would."
Elena looked at him.
"Seventeen years."
Lucien nodded.
"Your mother disappeared seventeen years ago."
"So did your father's murder."
His expression hardened.
"His death."
"You don't call it murder?"
"No."
"Why?"
"Because there was never enough evidence."
Elena studied him.
"But you believe he was murdered."
Lucien didn't answer.
That was answer enough.
---
Lucien
He shouldn't have shown her the folder.
He knew that.
Every instinct he'd developed over the years told him to keep Elena as far away from the truth as possible.
Yet something about her made lying difficult.
That irritated him.
More than it should have.
He had lied to ministers.
Investors.
Board members.
Friends.
Enemies.
He had built an empire on information people weren't allowed to have.
But Elena looked at him as though she could see through every wall he'd built.
"There's one more thing," he said.
She looked up.
"What?"
Lucien reached into the drawer.
He removed the old photograph of his father and the unidentified woman.
He placed it on the desk.
Elena's face changed.
"That's her."
"Who?"
"My mother."
Lucien's heart stopped.
"What?"
Elena pointed to the photograph.
"I've seen this picture before."
"Where?"
"In the box she left behind."
He stepped closer.
"You're certain?"
"Yes."
"You said her face was scratched out."
"It was."
"Then how do you know it's her?"
"Her necklace."
Elena touched her pendant.
"The same one."
Lucien stared at the photograph.
Seventeen years.
A missing woman.
A dead father.
A mysterious child.
A pendant.
And now Elena.
The pieces were beginning to fit.
He just didn't like the picture they created.
"Where is the box?"
Elena immediately became guarded.
"At home."
"I need it."
"No."
His eyes narrowed.
"Elena."
"You don't get to order me around outside this company."
"I'm trying to protect you."
"From what?"
"From the people who killed my father."
Her expression softened for half a second.
Then hardened again.
"You still haven't proven anyone killed him."
"No."
"But you believe it."
"Yes."
"And you believe they might come after me."
"Yes."
"Why?"
He stared at her.
Because you may be connected to the only secret my family couldn't bury.
Because someone may have spent seventeen years waiting for you to appear.
Because I can't explain why I feel compelled to protect you.
Instead, he said:
"Because you're asking questions."
Elena shook her head.
"That's not enough."
"Don't lie to me."
The words escaped before he could stop them.
She stared at him.
"I haven't lied to you."
"Your mother did."
"My mother isn't here."
"Then tell me what she didn't."
Elena's eyes narrowed.
"You think I know more than I'm telling you."
"I know you do."
She went silent.
Lucien watched her carefully.
Then she reached into her bag.
She removed a folded piece of paper.
"I found this in the box."
She handed it to him.
Lucien unfolded it.
His eyes moved over the handwriting.
His blood turned cold.
He knew that handwriting.
His father.
If Isabella ever comes back, do not trust her.
Below it was another sentence.
She knows what happened to the child.
Lucien looked up.
"Where did you get this?"
"I told you."
"Who else has seen it?"
"No one."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes."
He folded the paper.
"You're coming with me."
"Where?"
"My house."
Elena stared at him.
"Absolutely not."
"Someone has already threatened you."
"That doesn't mean I'm going to your house."
"It does if you want to stay alive."
She crossed her arms.
"You don't get to decide where I go."
Lucien stepped closer.
"No."
His voice dropped.
"But I can decide whether I let you walk into danger alone."
Something flickered between them.
Anger.
Fear.
Something else neither wanted to name.
Elena looked away first.
---
Elena
The Voss estate sat beyond the northern edge of Veyra.
It wasn't a house.
It was a fortress disguised as one.
Black iron gates opened before Lucien's car.
Elena stared through the window.
"This is where you grew up?"
"Yes."
"You must have hated it."
Lucien glanced at her.
"Why?"
"Because it looks like a prison."
His expression darkened.
"It was."
She looked at him.
For the first time, he seemed less like the untouchable billionaire she had met.
Just a man carrying something old.
Something broken.
The car stopped.
Lucien led her inside.
The interior was enormous.
Dark wood.
Stone walls.
Portraits of dead Voss family members watching from every direction.
Elena stopped beneath one.
A younger Augustus Voss stared down at her.
Something about his eyes unsettled her.
Lucien noticed.
"Don't look at him."
"Why?"
"Because he has a way of making people feel watched."
Elena gave him a strange look.
"He was a painting."
"He still does it."
They continued down the corridor.
Lucien opened a door.
"Wait here."
"What are you doing?"
"Getting the original family records."
He disappeared.
Elena looked around.
There were shelves filled with old books and documents.
Then she saw it.
A photograph.
Not on the wall.
Hidden inside an open drawer.
She pulled it out.
Her hands began to shake.
It was the same woman.
But this time her face wasn't scratched out.
Elena stared.
It wasn't Isabella.
It was someone else.
A young woman with dark hair.
And standing beside her was Augustus Voss.
On the woman's other side stood a baby.
Elena's heart began pounding.
She turned the photograph over.
Three words were written on the back.
My daughter. Mine.
A sound came from behind her.
Elena turned.
Lucien stood in the doorway.
His face had gone completely pale.
"What are you doing?"
She held up the photograph.
"Who is she?"
He didn't answer.
"Lucien."
His eyes remained fixed on the picture.
Then he whispered:
"That's my aunt."
Elena's stomach dropped.
"You said your grandfather had only two sons."
"He did."
"Then who is she?"
Lucien stepped toward her.
"Someone who officially never existed."
Elena stared at the photograph.
The baby in the woman's arms was wrapped in a white blanket.
Around the baby's neck hung a tiny silver pendant.
The same symbol.
The same serpent around a crown.
Elena looked down at her own pendant.
Then back at the photograph.
"Lucien..."
He didn't respond.
Her voice trembled.
"How old was your aunt when this picture was taken?"
"Twenty-three."
"And the baby?"
Lucien's face hardened.
"Newborn."
Elena's heart hammered.
She turned the photograph over again.
There was a date.
14 March.
Her birthday.
Her blood ran cold.
"That's impossible."
Lucien took the photograph from her.
He stared at the date.
Then at Elena.
Neither spoke.
Suddenly, the lights went out.
The estate plunged into darkness.
Elena gasped.
Somewhere downstairs, glass shattered.
Lucien immediately moved in front of her.
"Stay behind me."
Another sound.
Footsteps.
Inside the house.
Lucien pulled out his phone.
"No signal."
Elena's breathing quickened.
"Someone's here."
"I know."
A shadow moved beyond the doorway.
Lucien grabbed Elena's wrist.
"Run."
They raced into the corridor.
Behind them came the sound of a door being forced open.
Then a gunshot.
Elena screamed.
Lucien pulled her against the wall.
"Don't move."
Another shot echoed through the estate.
Then silence.
A voice came from the darkness.
"Lucien."
He froze.
The voice was familiar.
Too familiar.
A man's voice.
"Your father should have listened."
Lucien's face changed.
Elena had never seen him look like that.
Pure hatred.
"Who is that?" she whispered.
Lucien looked at her.
And for the first time, she saw something that frightened her more than the gunshot.
Recognition.
"It's my uncle."
Elena stared at him.
"But you said he died."
Lucien's eyes remained fixed on the darkness.
"I thought he did."
A man's laughter echoed through the corridor.
Then came the words that shattered everything:
"Hello, Lucien."
A pause.
"And hello, Elena."
Elena's blood froze.
He knew her name.
He had been waiting for her.
And somewhere in the darkness, someone who was supposed to have been dead was smiling.
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