Chapter 3 - The Black Mark
The moment the lock clicked, Isadora ran across the room and threw her arms around my neck. Her body shook with violent sobs.
“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” she wept into my shirt. “I wanted to tell you. I tried so many times!”
I held her tightly, breathing in the scent of jasmine and rain, feeling the sheer terror running through her frame. The anger that had burned in my gut when I saw her holding another man’s hand under the table evaporated completely, replaced by a cold, lethal focus.
“Talk to me, Isadora,” I commanded gently, holding her face in my hands. “No more secrets. Who is 'too young for this'?”
Isadora wiped her eyes, her lips trembling. “My little brother, Toby. He’s seven years old.”
My breath hitched. “Toby? You told me he was at a boarding school in Switzerland.”
“That was the lie Everett made me tell you!” she cried softly. “Six months ago, before you proposed, Everett came to my apartment. He showed me videos of Toby playing in a park in Geneva. Then he showed me men standing in the trees holding rifles. He told me that if I didn't agree to marry you and report your every move to him, Toby would never reach his eighth birthday.”
The blood in my veins turned to liquid ice.
“Everett blackmailed you into accepting my proposal?” I asked, the sheer horror of the scheme unfolding in my mind.
“He wanted a spy inside your bedroom,” Isadora confessed, her voice barely a whisper. “He’s been draining your family’s offshore accounts for five years, Damian. He knew that once we got married, your family trust would automatically convert into a joint asset structure that required my signature to audit. He was going to frame me for the theft, kill you, and take control of the entire Vance empire as the court-appointed trustee!”
Every piece of the puzzle slammed into place with sickening clarity.
Everett hadn't been protecting my father’s legacy; he had been systematically destroying it from the inside out. He had orchestrated my father’s sudden 'heart attack' two years ago. He had manipulated my engagement.
And tonight, Marcus Vance—my exiled half-brother—had resurfaced.
“Why was Marcus at the party?” I asked quickly. “Why was he holding your hand under the table?”
“Marcus found out what Everett was doing,” Isadora explained frantically. “He tracked down Everett’s black-market mercenaries three weeks ago. He’s been working secretly to locate where Everett is holding Toby. Tonight, Marcus sneaked into the party to slip me that paper.”
She pointed to the note with the black dot sitting on my desk.
“What does the black dot mean?” I asked.
“It wasn't a threat from Marcus,” Isadora whispered. “It’s a signal from the safehouse. Marcus found Toby. The black dot means the strike team is in position, but Marcus needed my confirmation that Everett was still in the ballroom before he moved.”
A soft, hesitant knock sounded at the hidden service door behind my bookshelf—a passage known only to the estate staff.
I pulled Isadora behind me, grabbing a heavy brass paperweight from the desk.
The hidden panel slid open six inches.
A tiny face peeked through the gap.
Pale pink dress. Messy blonde curls. Big brown eyes wide with anxiety.
May you like
It was four-year-old Wren Ashby.
“Mr. Damian?” she whispered, clutching her little drawing pad against her chest. “My mommy sent me. The bad man in the dark suit is locking all the gates downstairs.”
