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Chapter 13: The Conflict in the Family
Last Updated:
2025-01-11 21:31:28
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The gloom was oppressive. I was having trouble breathing. There was a strong, metallic smell in the air that I couldn't quite identify. I stood motionless as my chest constricted and my heart roared in my ears. I didn't know what was going on or where I was. I felt as though the world was spinning around me, confused and disoriented.I felt my fingers on the moist, chilly surface of what I knew to be a concrete wall. As I extended my hand further, searching for a window or door—anything that might provide me with a hint as to my location—a shiver went down my spine.I compelled myself to relax. No, I was unable to panic. Not right now. I needed to understand what was happening and what Williams was attempting to shield me from.Then I recalled—the black-clad man. The man with the mask who had suddenly materialised and left me unconscious. He had come for me, but why? What was going on? I wasn't sure if I was prepared for the answers to all of my enquiries.Long shadows extended across
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"Freda." I was startled out of my reverie by Williams's voice. His eyes met mine, and his voice became more urgent. "You are no longer the only focus of this. This is about the business and the legacy of my family. Additionally, your family is currently under attack. Since trust is currently a luxury we cannot afford, we must know who we can trust.With a dry throat, I nodded. Every inch of my skin felt as though it were being studied, every thought I had clouded with mistrust. This was not merely a warning message. It was a proclamation. Too much was known by someone. My past was known to someone. And that changed everything, as Williams had stated.I had anticipated issues from my relationship with the Harringtons. However, this was something for which I was unprepared. There had always been layers of mystery around my birth family, keeping the truth hidden. My adopted parents, the family that had forster me, and the individuals I had believed I could trust were now at the centre of
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I hurried to follow her, my heart pounding. "Who is it?" Even though I was already afraid of the response, I asked.Her composure slipped for a brief moment as she turned to face me, but it was enough to reveal the underlying cracks. "Remain here, Freda," she said in a low, almost beseeching voice. "I will handle this."The way her hands trembled just a little bit as she gripped the doorknob, however, was what really made my stomach turn. I could see that she was practicing composure out of fear. I had never seen such fear.I pushed past her despite her warning, entering the foyer as she opened the door.Marcel Harrington was standing there, shining in the harsh porch light.My heart sank. Standing there with a grin on his face, as though he commanded the situation, was the man who had invested so much effort in attempting to destroy my life and who seemed to have a hand in everything. "Marcel?" Before I could hold back, I unintentionally exclaimed the words. Upon seeing me, his smi
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For a moment, Freda couldn’t breathe.Jonathan Harrington—her father, the man she believed had died before she was old enough to remember—stood in the corridor, alive and real. His once-proud frame had thinned, his eyes bloodshot with years of torment, but the commanding presence remained.“Dad…” she whispered.Jonathan didn’t smile. He didn’t reach for her. Instead, he looked over her shoulder, where Williams, Alex, and Grace hovered just behind.“We can’t talk here,” Jonathan said, his voice low, urgent. “There are eyes everywhere.”Freda’s heart pounded, caught between disbelief and instinctive trust. She stepped forward.“Where have you been? Why—why now? And what do you mean Cassian’s not dead?”Jonathan’s gaze hardened.“Because he never died in that fire. It was staged.”Freda sat across from her father in a cold, concrete-walled room beneath one of the original Harrington estates—a place so off-grid it didn’t exist in any legal registry.Williams stood guard at the door, while
