Chapter 2 - THE SILVER DECEPTION
“Now you understand why they were following you,” the man whispered, his voice a perfect, chilling replica of Adrian Vale’s deep baritone.
I was backed against the heavy mahogany door of the ladies’ lounge, the cold brass of the locked handle digging into my spine. My phone, still illuminated with Madison’s frantic text message, felt like a glowing beacon of my own profound stupidity.
Dad just called me from New York. He never came to Chicago tonight.
If Adrian was in New York, the man standing inches from my face—the man wearing Adrian’s custom black tuxedo, sharing his sharp jawline, his piercing dark eyes, and the exact arrogant tilt of his head—was a ghost. Or a monster.
“Who are you?” I breathed, my voice trembling so violently I barely recognized it.
The man smiled, but the warmth didn’t reach his eyes. It was a practiced, predatory expression. He slowly lifted his left hand, pulling back the cuff of his tuxedo jacket to reveal the heavy silver watch on his wrist.
“You noticed the watch out there, didn't you, Evelyn?” he asked softly. “Adrian always wears platinum. I prefer silver. It’s a minor detail, but details are what keep a man alive in our line of work. I am Julian.”
Julian. The name meant nothing to me, yet the sheer weight with which he said it made the air in the small, dark room feel suffocatingly thin.
“You’re his brother,” I deduced, my heart hammering a frantic rhythm against my ribs. “His twin.”
“I’m his erasure,” Julian corrected, stepping closer until I could smell the sharp, metallic scent of ozone and peppermint on him—entirely different from the rich cedar and scotch scent that always clung to Adrian. “Thirty years ago, our father decided the Vale empire could only have one king. Adrian was chosen. I was buried. Shipped to Europe, erased from the public records, scrubbed from the family bloodline. But kings eventually get comfortable. They leave their castles unguarded.”
I gripped my phone tighter. “I don't know anything about your family’s business. I’m just Madison’s friend.”
“You are Madison’s only friend,” Julian countered, his eyes dropping to the phone in my hand. “And you are the only woman who has held my brother’s undivided attention for the last six months, whether you realize it or not. Do you really think he would let an ordinary woman walk into his inner circle without putting a tracker on her?”
He held up the tiny black device he had pulled from my purse. The red light blinked rhythmically, mocking me.
“Adrian didn't put that in my purse,” I said, though a cold seed of doubt planted itself in my stomach.
“No, he didn't,” Julian agreed smoothly. “I did. Two hours ago at the coat check. I needed to know exactly where you were so I could intercept you before Adrian’s real dogs found you. That text message you sent? The one calling him handsome? I intercepted that on a cloned cellular network I set up for this building. It was a beautiful mistake, Evelyn. You handed yourself to me.”
A wave of nausea washed over me. The man in the gray suit in the hallway—he wasn't Julian’s man. He was Adrian’s security, trying to protect me. And I had walked right into the wolf's den to escape him.
“What do you want?” I demanded, trying to find a fraction of the maturity I possessed just ten minutes ago.
“I want what Adrian stole from me,” Julian said, his expression hardening into stone. “And you are going to help me get it. Because if you don't, Madison won't live to see the sunrise.”
Before I could process the threat, the heavy mahogany door behind me exploded inward with terrifying force.
I was thrown forward, stumbling to the floor, my palms scraping against the Persian rug. The door frame splintered.
The man in the gray suit burst into the room. He didn't hesitate. He raised a suppressed handgun and fired twice.
Julian moved with unnatural speed, diving behind a velvet chaise lounge. The bullets shattered the gilt-framed mirror on the wall, raining sharp shards of glass over my shoulders.
“Evelyn, get up!” the gray-suited man shouted, grabbing my arm with rough, desperate urgency. “Adrian sent me. We have to go now!”
But Julian didn't cower. From behind the lounge, he kicked a heavy marble side table directly into the bodyguard’s knees. The man buckled with a grunt of pain. Before he could recover, Julian lunged out of the darkness, striking the man in the throat with the edge of his hand.
The bodyguard dropped, gasping for air, his weapon clattering across the floor.
Julian picked up the gun. He didn't look at the gasping man on the floor. He looked at me.
“We are leaving,” Julian ordered, grabbing my wrist with a grip like an iron vice.
He dragged me toward a secondary door at the back of the lounge—a discreet exit I hadn't even noticed. He shoved it open, hauling me into the cold, dimly lit service corridor of the hotel. My heels scraped against the concrete.
“Where are you taking me?” I cried, struggling against his grip.
“To a reunion,” Julian replied coldly.
He pushed me out a heavy metal exit door into the freezing Chicago night. We were in a private underground loading dock. A black SUV was idling near a stack of wooden pallets, its headlights off.
Julian opened the rear door and forcefully shoved me into the backseat.
I scrambled to upright myself, intending to dive out the other door, but I froze.
I wasn't alone in the backseat.
Sitting next to me in the darkness was a woman wrapped in a heavy wool coat. She turned her face toward the dim overhead streetlamp bleeding into the garage.
My breath caught in my throat.
May you like
It was a face I had seen in a dozen silver-framed photographs in Madison’s bedroom. A face that had been buried ten years ago after a supposed boating accident in Lake Michigan.
“Hello, Evelyn,” whispered Elena Vale. Madison’s dead mother.
