Chapter 4: The Man Under the Penthouse
“He said the baby isn't yours.””
Noah's words stayed in the room like smoke.
Dorian didn't speak.
Neither did I.
Mara slowly lowered herself into a chair.
“That's impossible,” she whispered.
Dorian looked at the laptop.
Then at me.
Then back at Noah through the phone.
“Where exactly?””
“Maintenance level beneath the old penthouse.””
“Who found him?””
“Our team.””
“Police?””
“Not yet.””
Dorian's expression hardened.
“Don't touch anything.””
“Already secured.””
“Call the police.””
He ended the call.
I stared at him.
“You believe him?””
Dorian didn't answer immediately.
Then he said, “I believe someone wants us to believe something.””
“That isn't an answer.””
“No.””
His eyes met mine.
“It isn't.””
I folded my arms around myself.
“So what do you think?””
“I think Adrian knew something.””
“And?””
“And he was afraid enough to hide it.””
Mara stood.
“My brother wasn't afraid of people.””
Dorian looked at her.
“He was afraid of whoever controlled the medical network.””
She shook her head.
“You don't understand.””
“What don't I understand?””
“Adrian wasn't the kind of man who ran.””
Mara's voice cracked.
“He once operated on a patient during a power outage with nothing but emergency lights and a manual monitor. He stayed awake for thirty-six hours afterward.””
She looked at the screen.
“If he disappeared, someone made him.””
A cold silence settled over us.
I walked toward the laptop.
The file titled *PHASE THREE — BABY DELIVERED* was still open.
The date was almost a year away.
I pointed at it.
“Why would anyone create this?””
Dorian stepped beside me.
“I don't know.””
“Then find out.””
“I will.””
“No.””
He looked at me.
“I want to know now.””
His eyes softened for half a second.
“I know.””
That was the problem.
He always said that.
I know.
As if understanding my pain could somehow erase what caused it.
I looked at the video again.
“Play Adrian's recording.””
Dorian clicked back.
The footage of his younger self appeared.
Adrian leaned forward.
“If you remember nothing else, remember this.””
Dorian on the screen looked confused.
“Remember what?””
“They're going to make you believe Alina betrayed you.””
The recording froze.
I stared at my husband.
“You really don't remember?””
“No.””
“Not the room?””
“No.””
“Not Adrian?””
“No.””
“Not that conversation?””
Dorian shook his head.
“Nothing.””
Mara stepped closer.
“Could you have been drugged?””
Dorian looked at her.
“Possibly.””
I frowned.
“Why would anyone drug Dorian?””
Mara's eyes moved toward the files.
“To control him.””
The answer landed harder than I expected.
Dorian had spent years building an empire.
People assumed powerful men couldn't be controlled.
They were wrong.
Sometimes power made people easier to control.
Because everyone knew exactly what they feared losing.
Dorian closed the laptop.
“We're going downtown.””
“Why?””
“To the penthouse.””
Mara immediately said, “No.””
Dorian looked at her.
“Why?””
“Because that's where they want you.””
“Maybe.””
“And Adrian is dead.””
“I know.””
“They're expecting you to panic.””
Dorian's voice became cold.
“I'm not panicking.””
I looked at him.
“No.””
He wasn't.
That was what frightened me.
He was thinking.
Calculating.
Already moving pieces across an invisible board.
I stood.
“I'm coming.””
“No.””
“You don't get to decide that.””
“Alina, you're pregnant.””
“And apparently someone planned it.””
His face tightened.
“Exactly.””
“Then I need to see where this started.””
He stared at me.
Finally, he nodded.
“Stay beside me.””
“I can do that.””
“And if I tell you to run—”
“I'll run.””
Mara grabbed her coat.
“I'm coming too.””
Dorian looked at her.
“You're becoming a habit.””
She gave him a humorless smile.
“Get used to it.””
An hour later, we stood outside the old Cross penthouse.
Police vehicles were already parked below.
The building looked exactly as I remembered.
Black marble.
Brass doors.
Security cameras.
Luxury so polished it felt cold.
I hadn't been inside since the night Dorian told me he wanted a divorce.
A memory surfaced.
His voice.
I don't know who you are anymore.
I had cried in the elevator.
He hadn't followed.
Now we entered through the private entrance.
A detective approached.
“Mr. Cross?””
“Yes.””
“Detective Warren.””
He glanced at me.
“Mrs. Cross?””
“Alina.””
He nodded.
“We found Dr. Vale approximately forty minutes ago.””
“Cause of death?””
“Preliminary assessment suggests blunt-force trauma.””
Mara covered her mouth.
“Was he alone?””
“No.””
Dorian's eyes sharpened.
“Who else?””
“We're still investigating.””
The detective led us downstairs.
The maintenance level smelled of dust, concrete, and something metallic.
Adrian lay beneath a white sheet.
Mara stopped walking.
“No.””
I grabbed her hand.
She shook violently.
Dorian stood beside her.
“I'm sorry.””
Mara stared at the sheet.
Then at the room.
“He hated elevators.””
Dorian frowned.
“What?””
“He always took stairs.””
She pointed toward a service door.
“That door leads to the emergency stairwell.””
Dorian walked over.
It was locked.
He examined the handle.
“Detective.””
Warren joined him.
“What?””
“This wasn't forced.””
“How do you know?””
“Because the lock is engaged from the inside.””
The detective's brow furrowed.
“That makes no sense.””
Dorian crouched.
There was a small black smear beneath the lock.
He touched nothing.
“Someone changed it.””
Warren called for an evidence technician.
While they worked, I noticed something beneath Adrian's hand.
A folded piece of paper.
“Detective.””
Warren looked.
The technician photographed it before removing it.
The paper was opened carefully.
Four words were written in Adrian's handwriting.
*ASK ALINA ABOUT LUCAS.*
My breath stopped.
Dorian looked at me.
“Who is Lucas?””
I shook my head.
“I don't know.””
Mara looked confused.
“Who is Lucas?””
“I don't know anyone named Lucas.””
Dorian's eyes remained on me.
“Think.””
“I am thinking.””
“Alina.””
“I don't know.””
The detective looked between us.
“Could Lucas be a doctor?””
“No.””
“A family member?””
“No.””
“A friend?””
I swallowed.
“No.””
Then something clicked.
A photograph.
An old family album.
A little boy standing beside me.
Maybe seven years old.
Dark hair.
Blue sweater.
His hand in mine.
I had always thought he was my cousin.
But the memory was wrong.
The face.
The eyes.
The scar beneath his eyebrow.
I looked at Dorian.
“I know someone named Lucas.””
“Who?””
“My mother had a foster son.””
Mara frowned.
“What happened to him?””
I stared at the body under the sheet.
“He disappeared.””
Dorian's voice lowered.
“When?””
“When I was seventeen.””
“Why?””
“I was told he ran away.””
Dorian stood.
“Who told you?””
“My mother.””
The room suddenly felt colder.
Detective Warren's radio crackled.
He stepped away to answer it.
Then he came back.
“We found something.””
“What?”” Dorian asked.
“A hidden compartment.””
“Where?””
The detective looked at me.
“In the old master bedroom.””
My pulse quickened.
Dorian's eyes met mine.
The same room where someone had installed cameras.
The same room where a hidden door had been found.
We followed them upstairs.
The bedroom was exactly as I remembered.
Except one wall had been opened.
Behind it was a narrow metal cabinet.
Inside sat a stack of files.
Dorian pulled on gloves.
The first file had my name.
The second had Dorian's.
The third had a name I hadn't seen in twenty years.
*LUCAS CROSS.*
I stared.
“Cross?””
Dorian slowly opened it.
The first page contained a photograph.
A young boy.
Blue sweater.
Dark hair.
Scar beneath his eyebrow.
My knees nearly gave out.
I knew that face.
I had held that boy's hand.
I had promised him I would never forget him.
Dorian looked at me.
“Alina…”
I whispered the truth.
“Lucas wasn't my mother's foster son.””
I turned the page.
A birth certificate was attached.
Father: *Richard Cross.*
Mother: *Evelyn Cross.*
I stared at Dorian.
“Lucas was your brother.””
Dorian's face went completely blank.
Then another document slid from the folder.
A DNA report.
The subject listed as *Lucas Cross* had been genetically matched to Dorian.
But beneath it was a handwritten note.
*Lucas was never missing.*
My hands began to shake.
The note continued.
*He was relocated.*
May you like
Then came one final line.
*Because Alina saw what happened to him.*
