Chapter 4 - THE BETRAYAL INSIDE THE HOUSEI spent the next three hours refusing to believe Evelyn.
Not because I trusted Adrian.
Because accepting the truth meant admitting I had built my entire life around a man who might have murdered our father.
Evelyn stayed in the study.
Samuel refused to leave.
Noah slept upstairs.
Goliath guarded the hallway.
I stood beside the fireplace.
“Tell me everything.”
Evelyn opened the old leather bag she carried.
Inside was a photograph.
My father.
Samuel.
Evelyn.
And a fourth person.
Adrian.
All standing together sixteen years earlier.
I stared at the photograph.
“Where was this taken?”
“Your father's private warehouse.”
“Why was Adrian there?”
“He wasn't supposed to be.”
“What happened?”
Evelyn's voice dropped.
“Your father had discovered that someone was selling information to a rival organization.”
“Adrian.”
“Yes.”
I shook my head.
“What proof?”
She removed a small memory card.
“Your father gave this to me the night he died.”
I looked at Marcus.
“Can you access it?”
“Give me ten minutes.”
Ten minutes became twenty.
Then Marcus entered.
His face was pale.
“There are recordings.”
“Of what?”
“Your father.”
He played the first file.
My father's voice filled the room.
“If you're hearing this, I'm probably dead.”
My hands tightened.
“The person inside this organization is someone my son trusts.”
A pause.
“Roman is the one person I need to protect.”
Then another voice.
Adrian.
“I can't believe you're doing this.”
My father's voice answered.
“You betrayed me.”
“I saved this family.”
“You sold us.”
“I made us stronger.”
The recording ended.
I couldn't breathe.
Evelyn touched my arm.
“Roman.”
I stepped away.
“Don't.”
She stopped.
I wasn't angry with her.
I was angry with myself.
All those years.
All those decisions.
Every time Adrian advised me.
Every time he warned me about enemies.
Every time he said, “Father would have wanted this.”
I had believed him.
Then Marcus said:
“There's one more file.”
The screen showed a date.
Sixteen years ago.
The night my father died.
Adrian entered the warehouse.
He wasn't alone.
A woman walked beside him.
Red scarf.
Evelyn.
I stared at her.
She whispered:
“I was undercover.”
“You worked for Adrian?”
“No.”
“Then why were you with him?”
“He forced me.”
“How?”
“He had my mother.”
The room became silent.
Evelyn explained that Adrian had kidnapped her mother to force her into helping him locate the ledger.
Evelyn had pretended to cooperate.
But she secretly warned my father.
That was why Adrian killed him.
Then Evelyn disappeared.
She had spent sixteen years searching for the ledger.
“What does this have to do with Noah?”
She looked at me.
“Because your father hid the ledger inside something nobody would suspect.”
“What?”
Evelyn hesitated.
“Goliath.”
I stared.
“The dog?”
“The original Goliath belonged to your father.”
My eyes moved toward the hallway.
The enormous dog had inherited his name from the first Goliath.
“What are you saying?”
Evelyn swallowed.
“Your father trained the dog to carry a small metal capsule in its collar.”
Marcus immediately stood.
“Where is the collar?”
Samuel answered.
“On my property.”
I looked at Evelyn.
“Why would my father give it to Noah's family?”
“Because he trusted us.”
A loud crash came from upstairs.
Noah screamed.
I ran.
A man had broken through the window.
He grabbed Noah.
Goliath attacked.
The attacker fired.
The bullet missed the dog.
I reached them.
We fought.
The man escaped through the window.
But he left something behind.
A black metal token.
Marcus picked it up.
His expression changed.
“What?”
“This belongs to Adrian.”
I looked at Noah.
He was crying.
I pulled him into my arms.
For the first time in twenty-five years, I understood what my father had felt.
The desperate need to protect someone.
Not an empire.
Not money.
A child.
A family.
I whispered:
“No one touches you.”
Noah clung to my shirt.
Then Evelyn spoke behind me.
“Roman.”
I turned.
She held a photograph.
It showed a little boy.
About nine years old.
Standing beside my father.
I stared.
The boy was me.
And beside me stood another child.
A girl with a red scarf.
Evelyn.
We had met before.
Not once.
Many times.
Our childhoods had crossed long before we knew what our families were.
And there was one more photograph.
On the back, my father's handwriting read:
When they grow up, keep them apart. Their bloodlines must never meet.
My stomach dropped.
“Why?”
May you like
Evelyn looked at me.
“Because your father knew one day we'd fall in love.”
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