The Boy in the Shadows, The Traitor in the Light

I stared at the photograph in my hand, my thumb tracing the edge of the glossy paper.

The woman standing next to me in the picture was my aunt, Clara. She had supposedly died in a boating accident when I was seven. I had mourned her for years. Yet, in this picture, I was clearly in my late twenties, and Clara looked older, her hand resting affectionately on my shoulder.

And on the back: SHE KNOWS YOU’RE HIS SON.

My mind spun. I looked down at little Eli. His big brown eyes stared back at me, filled with an innocent trust that I hadn’t earned.

“Eli,” I whispered, kneeling to his eye level. “You said my mother gave this to you. But my mother is asleep in the medical wing. She can’t walk.”

Eli shook his head stubbornly. “She isn’t asleep. She comes to my room at night. She smells like peppermint.”

My mother’s favorite tea was peppermint.

“Where is your mom?” I asked. “Where is Elena?”

“She went to the basement to get the special suitcases,” Eli said simply. “She said we have to leave before the sun comes up.”

A maid wouldn’t need “special suitcases” at midnight. I picked Eli up and carried him straight to the west wing, where we kept the secure medical suite for my mother. Two private nurses were supposed to be on duty 24/7.

When I reached the heavy mahogany doors, the hallway was completely empty. No nurses. No security guards.

I pushed the door open. The monitors were softly beeping. The dim lights cast long shadows across the pristine hospital bed.

The bed was empty.

The blankets were neatly folded back. The IV lines were disconnected and hung over the metal stand. My mother, who had supposedly been in an unresponsive coma for six months following a massive stroke, was gone.

I walked slowly into the room, my heart hammering against my ribs.

On the center of her pillow sat a single object.

A heavy, silver rosary.

It wasn't just any rosary. It belonged to my father. He had held it the night he was murdered in our driveway twenty years ago. My mother had sworn it was buried with him.

I picked it up. The silver beads were cold against my skin. As I lifted the cross, I noticed a small piece of folded paper wedged tightly between the links.

I pulled it out and unfolded it.

The plane isn't meant to kill you, Roman. It’s meant to frame you.

My breath caught. Frame me? For what?

Before I could process the words, a sound came from the en-suite bathroom. A soft click, like a lock disengaging.

I shoved the rosary and the note into my pocket and moved silently toward the bathroom door, positioning myself out of sight.

The door swung open.

It wasn't my mother who walked out.

It was Elena, the maid. She was wearing a dark, tailored trench coat instead of her uniform. She didn't look submissive or quiet anymore. She looked like a soldier.

In her hand, she held a suppressed pistol.

“Put it down, Elena,” I said, stepping into the doorway.

She whipped around, aiming the gun perfectly at my chest. But when she saw I was holding Eli, her arms trembled, and she slowly lowered the weapon.

“You weren’t supposed to find him,” Elena whispered, her voice cracking with raw emotion. “He was supposed to be asleep.”

“He was saving my life,” I said softly. I set Eli down behind my legs, shielding him. “Who are you, Elena? Why is my mother’s bed empty? And why did Eli just call me Daddy?”

Elena looked at the floor, tears pooling in her eyes. “I am not a maid, Roman. I am your mother’s chief of security. I have been for seven years.”

“My mother is in a coma.”

“Your mother was poisoned,” Elena corrected, looking up at me with fierce, burning eyes. “Six months ago. Isabella slipped a neurotoxin into her peppermint tea. Your mother knew she was dying, so she took a counter-agent that induced a coma to flush her system. She’s been awake for three days, hiding in the basement. Waiting.”

I felt the floor drop out from beneath me. Isabella poisoned my mother.

“Waiting for what?” I demanded.

Elena pointed at Eli, who was clutching my pant leg.

“Waiting for Isabella to make her final move,” Elena said. “Because Isabella doesn’t just want your empire, Roman. She wants to eliminate the only true blood heir to your father’s legacy.”