Chapter 5 - The Night Vincent Chose Her
Nathan Calder arrived at the estate shortly after sunset.
He stepped out of his black Mercedes wearing an expensive navy suit and the relaxed smile of a man who believed every door would open for him.
Vincent watched from his study window.
Lena stood beside him.
“Are you going to confront him?”
“Not yet.”
“Why?”
“Because if Nathan has Sophie, frightening him might get her killed.”
Lena hated the logic.
She hated that it made sense.
Vincent turned toward her.
“Tonight, you need to trust me.”
She looked at him.
“That's becoming a dangerous habit.”
His expression softened.
“I know.”
Nathan entered the study ten minutes later.
“Vincent! I heard you disappeared with the pastry chef.”
He laughed.
“Should I be jealous?”
Vincent remained seated.
“You've been asking questions about her.”
Nathan shrugged.
“She nearly poisoned you.”
“She saved my life.”
“Or created the problem so she could play hero.”
Lena stood near the bookshelf.
Nathan glanced at her.
His smile widened.
“Miss Brooks. Still employed, I see.”
“For now,” Lena replied.
Nathan chuckled.
“You should be grateful. My cousin is unusually forgiving.”
Vincent watched him.
“Where were you last night?”
Nathan's smile faded slightly.
“Home.”
“All evening?”
“Mostly.”
“Interesting.”
Nathan leaned against the desk.
“What's this about?”
“Someone broke into Lena's apartment.”
Nathan shook his head.
“Terrible.”
“And kidnapped her sister.”
For half a second, Nathan stopped breathing.
Then he recovered.
“That's unfortunate.”
Lena felt rage rise in her throat.
Unfortunate.
As though Sophie were a delayed delivery.
Vincent continued.
“The kidnappers contacted her.”
“Did they?”
“They mentioned Blackthorn Research.”
Nathan's face changed.
This time, there was no hiding it.
Vincent saw.
Lena saw.
And Nathan knew they had seen.
“Blackthorn?” he repeated.
“Yes.”
“That's ancient history.”
“Then you won't mind helping us revisit it.”
Nathan straightened.
“I have no idea what you're implying.”
Vincent opened a drawer and removed a blank folder.
He placed it on the desk.
Nathan's eyes immediately dropped to it.
Vincent noticed.
“Are you expecting something?”
Nathan laughed.
“Should I be?”
“That's what I'm trying to determine.”
A long silence followed.
Finally, Nathan stood.
“I have a dinner meeting.”
“Cancel it.”
“Vincent—”
“Sit down.”
The command was quiet.
Nathan obeyed.
Lena suddenly understood why men feared Vincent.
He didn't need to shout.
He simply removed every illusion that disobedience was an option.
But Nathan had spent his life beside him.
He knew Vincent's weaknesses.
And he used one now.
“You're letting a kitchen employee turn you against your family.”
Vincent's eyes darkened.
“Choose your next words carefully.”
Nathan gestured toward Lena.
“Look at her. She has no connections, no reputation, no reason to be here except the attention you've given her.”
Lena felt the insult.
She had heard versions of it all her life.
Too big.
Too ordinary.
Too invisible.
Too easy to dismiss.
Nathan continued.
“She's manipulating you.”
Vincent rose.
The movement was so sudden that Nathan stepped backward.
“Enough.”
Nathan opened his mouth.
Vincent cut him off.
“You will never speak about her that way again.”
Lena stared.
Nobody had defended her like that since her grandmother died.
Nathan looked between them.
Understanding dawned.
Then something ugly appeared in his eyes.
“Oh,” he said softly.
Vincent didn't respond.
Nathan smiled.
“Now I understand.”
He turned toward Lena.
“Be careful, sweetheart. Men like Vincent don't keep women like you.”
The silence that followed felt endless.
Lena's face burned.
She wanted to disappear.
Instead, Vincent walked around the desk.
He stopped directly in front of Nathan.
“You're mistaken.”
Nathan raised his eyebrows.
Vincent's voice was steady.
“Women like Lena are the reason men like me still have a chance to become better.”
For the first time, Nathan looked genuinely uncertain.
Then Marcus entered.
“Mr. Calder, your attorney needs you downstairs.”
Vincent recognized the signal.
Security had located a second property connected to Sophie's disappearance.
He looked at Nathan.
“Stay for dinner.”
Nathan hesitated.
“I really should—”
“I insist.”
After Nathan left with Marcus, Lena turned toward Vincent.
“You didn't have to do that.”
“Yes,” he said. “I did.”
She looked away.
“People have said worse things about me.”
“That doesn't make them acceptable.”
Lena swallowed.
“You barely know me.”
Vincent stepped closer.
“I know you risked your life for a stranger.”
“That doesn't mean I'm special.”
“No,” he said quietly. “It means you did something extraordinary.”
Her eyes filled unexpectedly.
She hated crying.
Especially in front of him.
Vincent reached into his pocket and offered a folded handkerchief.
Lena laughed through her tears.
“Do you always carry one of those?”
“My mother taught me to.”
“She sounds lovely.”
“She was.”
For a moment, grief connected them more strongly than fear.
Then Vincent said, “I need to tell you something.”
Lena looked up.
“What?”
“The photograph from your grandmother's box.”
“The baby?”
He nodded.
“I found another copy among my father's private papers years ago.”
“Why didn't you tell me?”
“Because I didn't understand its importance.”
“And now?”
Vincent hesitated.
“Now I think the child may be connected to why Blackthorn burned.”
Before Lena could answer, Marcus entered again.
His expression was grim.
“We found the second property.”
Lena stepped forward.
“Is Sophie there?”
“We don't know yet.”
Vincent grabbed his coat.
“I'm going.”
Lena reached for his arm.
“So am I.”
“No.”
“She's my sister.”
“And someone wants you dead.”
She held his gaze.
“Someone wants you dead too.”
Vincent stared at her.
Then he exhaled.
“Stay beside Marcus. Do exactly what he says.”
Twenty minutes later, their vehicles approached an abandoned lakeside lodge.
The windows were dark.
The front door hung open.
Vincent's men entered first.
Lena waited in the SUV, counting every second.
Then a gunshot echoed through the trees.
Marcus grabbed his radio.
Another shot followed.
Lena's heart slammed against her ribs.
A man stumbled out of the lodge.
He was bleeding from his shoulder.
Vincent appeared behind him.
“Get down!” he shouted.
Lena ducked.
A bullet shattered the SUV's rear window.
Marcus returned fire toward the treeline.
Then Vincent reached the vehicle and opened her door.
“Are you hurt?”
She shook her head.
“Where's Sophie?”
His expression changed.
And Lena knew.
They hadn't found her.
Instead, Vincent placed a bloodstained envelope in her hands.
Inside was a photograph.
Margaret Brooks stood beside Vincent's father.
Between them was a little girl.
May you like
On the back were five words.
LENA BROOKS IS NOT HER NAME.
