Chapter 8 - The Brother Who Was Erased
The name stayed in my mind long after Delphine stopped speaking.
Damian Kingsley.
A man who supposedly did not exist.
A man my entire life had never mentioned.
A man who, according to Delphine, was my father’s brother.
I stared at her.
Waiting for the moment she would admit she was lying.
But she didn’t.
That was the worst part.
Because Delphine had lied to me before.
Many times.
But now she looked like someone finally telling the truth.
And she looked terrified of what that truth meant.
“Start from the beginning.”
My voice was calm.
Too calm.
Delphine looked down at her hands.
“My mother worked for your father when they were young.”
“As an accountant.”
She nodded.
“She discovered something.”
“The money transfers.”
“Yes.”
I walked toward the table.
“And Damian?”
She took a slow breath.
“Your father had an older brother.”
I shook my head.
“My father was an only child.”
“That’s what everyone believed.”
“Why?”
“Because your grandfather erased him.”
The words felt impossible.
But after everything I had discovered, impossible had become normal.
“Why would he do that?”
Delphine looked at me.
“Because Damian was supposed to inherit everything.”
I said nothing.
She continued.
“Your grandfather built the first Kingsley businesses. He believed Damian was the natural successor. He was older. More aggressive. More like him.”
“And my father?”
“Your father was different.”
That sounded familiar.
Because I knew my father.
He was powerful.
But he was never cruel.
“He cared about people.”
Delphine nodded.
“And Damian saw that as weakness.”
The room became quiet.
A family war.
Not over money.
Over the meaning of power.
“What happened to Damian?”
Delphine looked away.
“Your grandfather sent him away.”
“Where?”
“No one knew.”
“Then how do you know?”
Her eyes met mine.
“Because my mother helped him disappear.”
That answer changed everything.
“Your mother?”
“She believed Damian deserved another chance.”
“And later?”
“Later, Damian came back.”
“When?”
“Years before you were born.”
I looked at her.
“And my father knew?”
“Yes.”
“Then why didn’t he tell me?”
Delphine’s expression became sad.
“Because your father was trying to protect you.”
I almost laughed.
Everyone kept saying that.
Protect you.
Protect you.
But nobody ever told me the truth.
Everyone decided I was safer in the dark.
And now I was standing in the middle of everything they had hidden.
I left Delphine’s apartment without another word.
Not because I was done.
Because I needed to think.
Adrian was waiting downstairs.
One look at my face told him enough.
“What happened?”
I got into the car.
“Find everything about Damian Kingsley.”
Adrian looked surprised.
“Damian?”
“Yes.”
“Who is he?”
“My father’s brother.”
The silence afterward was immediate.
Because even Adrian knew what that meant.
“That’s impossible.”
“I know.”
He looked at me.
“And yet?”
“And yet everyone keeps proving impossible things are real.”
He started searching.
For the next hour, the only sound in the car was the tapping of his keyboard.
Then he stopped.
“Emmett.”
Something in his voice made me turn.
“What?”
“I found a record.”
“About Damian?”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
Adrian looked at the screen.
“Private hospital records.”
My expression changed.
“He was alive?”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
Adrian hesitated.
Then turned the tablet toward me.
The record showed a patient.
Damian Kingsley.
Admitted twenty-eight years earlier.
Released under a different name.
My eyes moved to the final line.
A current address.
Someone had updated the record recently.
Three months ago.
Around the same time Delphine started asking questions.
“Who accessed this file?”
Adrian checked.
His face became serious.
“Victor Hale.”
Of course.
Victor again.
The man who knew everything.
The man who was always one step ahead.
I closed my eyes.
“Take us there.”
The address led us to an old private estate outside the city.
Not abandoned.
Maintained.
Hidden.
A place designed for someone who wanted privacy.
Not someone who wanted to disappear.
Adrian checked the area.
“No security.”
“That means there is security.”
He nodded.
We approached carefully.
The front door was unlocked.
That was the first warning.
People who lived safely did not leave doors open.
People who wanted visitors did.
Inside, the house was dark.
But not empty.
Someone had been there recently.
On the table sat a photograph.
My father.
Young.
Standing beside another man.
Damian.
I picked it up.
For the first time, I saw him.
The resemblance was undeniable.
Same eyes.
Same face structure.
Different expression.
My father looked calm.
Damian looked like someone who was always fighting.
Behind the photograph was a handwritten message.
“You finally came looking.”
A voice came from behind us.
“You look exactly like him.”
I turned.
A man stood at the entrance.
Older.
Gray hair.
Sharp eyes.
But the resemblance was impossible to ignore.
Damian Kingsley.
Alive.
I stared at him.
“You’re my uncle.”
He smiled slightly.
“Your father never told you.”
“No.”
“Of course he didn’t.”
His voice carried no surprise.
Only bitterness.
“Why?”
Damian walked closer.
“Because your father spent his entire life pretending he was protecting people.”
“He was.”
Damian laughed softly.
“No.”
He looked at the photograph in my hand.
“He was protecting his own guilt.”
I stepped forward.
“Explain.”
For a moment, I saw something in his eyes.
Pain.
Not anger.
Pain.
“Your father took everything from me.”
“That’s what you believe.”
“That’s what happened.”
He walked toward the table.
“My father promised me the company.”
“Your grandfather.”
“Yes.”
“But he changed his mind.”
“Because Robert convinced him.”
My father’s name.
The way Damian said it made it sound like a wound.
“He made everyone believe I was dangerous.”
“Were you?”
The question surprised him.
Then he smiled.
“Good.”
“What?”
“You ask questions like your father.”
I waited.
“Damian.”
His expression hardened.
“Yes.”
A simple answer.
But an honest one.
“I made mistakes.”
The admission surprised me.
“I was angry.”
He looked around the room.
“I thought power was the only thing people respected.”
“And then?”
“And then your father proved me wrong.”
Silence.
“Why come back now?”
His eyes moved to me.
“Because someone is trying to destroy what your father built.”
I looked at him.
“Who?”
Damian’s expression changed.
“Someone who has been close to you.”
I thought of Delphine.
Victor.
Everyone.
“Tell me.”
Damian walked toward a locked cabinet.
He opened it.
Inside were documents.
Photographs.
Records.
Proof.
“I have spent years watching.”
“Watching what?”
“The person who killed your father.”
The room froze.
My father’s death had always been explained.
An accident.
A tragedy.
A loss.
But never murder.
I stared at him.
“You’re saying my father was killed?”
“Yes.”
“Who?”
Damian looked directly at me.
And said:
“Victor Hale.”
The words hit like a physical blow.
I thought about every conversation.
Every warning.
Every promise.
The man who claimed he protected my father.
The man who claimed he protected me.
Could he have been the one who destroyed everything?
Before I could answer, Adrian’s phone rang.
He listened.
Then his face changed.
“Emmett.”
“What?”
“It’s Delphine.”
I looked at him.
“What happened?”
“She disappeared.”
My heart sank.
“Where?”
“She left behind one message.”
“What message?”
Adrian looked at me.
“She wrote that she was sorry.”
A pause.
Then:
“And that Victor knows where the real file is.”
I looked at Damian.
The missing brother.
The hidden truth.
The dead father.
The disappearing fiancée.
Everything was finally connecting.
But one question remained.
May you like
If Victor had killed my father…
Why had he spent years protecting me?
