"Yes. I know who killed your parents, and I have evidence you can use to get your revenge on the person."
Fidelia's breath caught. "Who… who killed them?"
Elijah didn't reply. He only looked at her, studying her reaction, deliberately withholding the answer she so desperately needed.
"Please," Fidelia said, her voice breaking. "Please tell me who killed my parents. Give me the evidence. I beg you I'll do anything. Please."
Tears burned in her eyes as the words tumbled out. She hated begging. Hated showing weakness. But she needed this.
She needed to know who had made her an orphan. Who had left her to suffer all these years. She wanted to know what her parents had done that they deserved death.
This man had the answers. And she knew…she knew he wouldn't give them easily. But she had to try.
Elijah let the silence stretch, watching her squirm. Finally, he spoke.
"I'll give you everything you want to know. Every detail about that night. All the evidence you need to destroy the person responsible." He paused, letting the promise dangle. "But it's not free."
Fidelia's jaw clenched. 'Of course it's not.'
"You have to become my pawn," Elijah continued, his voice cold and businesslike. "My eyes and ears, watching Andrian. Reporting to me. And more than that you need to make him give you his shares. A large amount. When he transfers them to you, you'll sign them over to me."
'Despite trying so hard to run away from being someone's pawn,' Fidelia thought, closing her eyes briefly, 'Am I really going to end up right back where I started?'
She wanted revenge so badly she could taste it. But was it worth it? Being controlled again? Betraying the man who had helped her, saved her life, agreed to stand beside her and fight back?
Was it all worth it?
"You're bluffing," she said suddenly, pulling herself together. She wiped her tears with the back of her hand and sat up straighter, forcing steel into her voice. "I don't believe you have the evidence."
Elijah laughed genuinely amused this time.
"Oh, I do have the evidence," he said, still smiling. "Everything about that night. Their deaths. The murderer. Every single detail." His smile faded. "You know why I didn't reveal it?"
Fidelia waited, her heart pounding.
"Because as a businessman, it was in my favor," Elijah said simply. "Gregory was against my methods of securing one of the biggest deals I'd ever made. He was going to expose me, ruin everything I'd built. And then, luck fell on my side. One of the many people he had made an enemy of happened to want him dead. I simply… didn't stop it."
"You're a monster," Fidelia breathed, horror and rage warring in her chest. "You and Derek..you're both monsters."
How could her father's friend and his own brother both profit from his death? How could they live with themselves?
Elijah seemed unbothered by the accusation. He leaned forward, his eyes boring into hers.
"Now let me tell you why I'm sharing this with you, Fidelia. It's not out of guilt or remorse I have neither. It's because I want you to understand your position clearly." His voice was cold, precise. "You are a pawn. You have *always* been a pawn. Derek raised you to control your shares. Andrian is marrying you to secure those shares for my family. Everyone around you has an agenda."
"Andrian wouldn't.." Fidelia started, but her voice lacked the conviction she wanted it to have.
"Wouldn't he?" Elijah's smile was cruel. "Why do you think he suddenly became interested in you? Why do you think he proposed so quickly after meeting you? Love?" He laughed—a harsh, mocking sound. "My son doesn't know the meaning of the word. He knows ambition. He knows strategy. And he knows that marrying you gives him leverage against me. That's all this is."
Fidelia felt sick. Her stomach churned with doubt and fear.
"You're lying," she said, but even to her own ears, it sounded weak.
"I'm not," Elijah said simply. "And deep down, you know it. You've known it all along. I don't see any love in your relationship. If you both think you're fooling everyone with this act, you're wrong. I see right through you."
He stood, buttoning his jacket with slow, deliberate movements.
"So here's what's going to happen, Fidelia. You're going to marry my son in two days. You're going to smile for the cameras and play the happy bride. And then, quietly, you're going to transfer the shares you'll be given to me. All of them
including the ones you'll acquire from Andrian."
"And if I don't?" Fidelia asked, though she already knew what was coming.
"Then you'll never get the name of the murderer," Elijah said coldly. "Or the evidence."
Fidelia's mind raced. She forced herself to think clearly through the panic.
"I don't need you," she said, lifting her chin. "If you have the evidence, that means I can find it too. I'll get it on my own."
Elijah's smile widened, like he'd been waiting for her to say exactly that.
"Good luck trying," he said. "But when you inevitably fail and you will you'll come crawling back to me. And when you do, I'll make you beg in ways you'll hate even more than this."
Fidelia could feel her blood boiling. Her hands clenched into fists at her sides, nails digging into her palms as she fought to control herself.
The threat was crystal clear.
"You wouldn't," she whispered.
"Try me," Elijah said, his voice dropping to something dark and dangerous. "Refuse me, and I'll destroy you. Publicly. Completely. I'll make sure there's nothing left of you when I'm done. Your reputation, your business, your sanity all of it will be gone."
He walked to the door and opened it, holding it for her in a mockery of courtesy.
"You have until Saturday to decide. Choose wisely."
Fidelia stood, glaring at him with every ounce of hatred she could muster, and walked out.
'He's a devil,' she thought as she stepped into the hallway. 'Just like Derek. Maybe worse.'
Derek was a cunning bastard who preferred manipulation and lies. But Elijah? Elijah played his cards straightforward, preferring direct threats and open power plays instead of cutting corners.
'I guess he's really confident I'm weak and powerless.'
Her jaw set with determination.
*I'll show them. I'll make them both pay.*
Her father was murdered.
Derek had been lying to her for fifteen years.
Elijah was blackmailing her.
And Andrian...
'Does he really love me? Or has this all been an elaborate con?'
She didn't know anymore.
She didn't know anything anymore.
Outside the study, Andrian was waiting in the hallway, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. He'd wanted to follow her in, but something had stopped him. Now, as he heard the door open and saw Fidelia emerge, he knew immediately that something was wrong.
Her face was pale, she looked confused and her eyes looked really sad and lifeless.
"Are you okay?" He pushed off the wall and reached for her.
She looked at him—really looked at him—and for the first time since they'd met, he saw something in her eyes that terrified him.
Doubt.
"Please take me home," she said quietly, her voice hollow.
"What did he say to you?" Andrian demanded, anger rising hot and fast in his chest. "What did my father—"
"Just take me home, Andrian," she repeated, her voice breaking slightly on his name. "Please."
And because he could see she was barely holding herself together—because he could see the cracks forming in her carefully constructed armor—he didn't push.
He simply nodded and offered her his arm.
She didn't take it.
They walked out of the Richardson estate side by side, but the space between them felt wider. Their hands, which had been intertwined just an hour ago, now hung separately at their sides.
Andrian couldn't shake the terrible feeling that something had just broken between them.
And he didn't know if it could be fixed.
---
High above, standing on the second-floor balcony overlooking the front entrance, Charles and Damien watched as Fidelia and Andrian walked to the car below.
"Are you going to keep watching as they do whatever they want?" Damien asked, his voice tight with barely controlled anger.
Charles said nothing, taking a slow sip of his drink.
"You saw how he insulted our mother because of that woman," Damien continued, his frustration building. "And now Grandmother made it clear her 'gift' will be shares. Tell me, brother—are you going to sit back until he starts challenging your position in the company?" His voice rose slightly. "His wife hacked all my funds. Andrian tricked me into buying that worthless company. And you're just going to let them—"
"Calm down, Damien," Charles interrupted, his voice eerily calm. "You know I can't sit back and watch."
He straightened his suit jacket and placed one hand in his pocket while the other held his glass. He took another slow sip of alcohol, his expression unreadable.
"I thought as much," Damien said, some of the tension leaving his shoulders. "So what do you plan to do, brother?"
Charles turned to look at him, and for just a moment, something cold and dangerous flashed in his eyes.
"Just watch," he said quietly. "Hell will rain on them soon enough."
He raised his glass, gulped down the rest of his drink in one smooth motion, then turned and walked back inside, leaving Damien standing alone on the balcony.
Damien watched his brother disappear into the shadows of the mansion, a slow smile spreading across his face.
'Finally,'he thought. 'Finally, Charles is going to do something.'
Below, Andrian and Fidelia drove away into the night, neither of them speaking, neither of them aware of the storm that was about to descend on them both.