Chapter 16: Hidden Heir: Chapter 16

It pains me that Leon was right.

The week after Leon helped Ant get high, I noticed a change in him. Part of me doesn’t want to accept that it’s the drugs that are soothing him, but Leon has such a good plan in place that it’s almost like Ant is back to his normal self. The substance he takes to ease his cravings is administered at the same time every day, always in his room and always under the watchful eye of a guard to ensure nothing goes wrong. The dose is adjusted to a little bit less each day, and he’s only allowed out once he’s come down from his high.

And then it’s like the old days again. Suddenly, I have my brother back. He’s laughing and joking with me as we cook food for Tiffany, he’s playing games with her on the patio in the sun, he’s reading me snippets of funny stories he finds online, and he’s starting to look a little healthier.

The difference is amazing, and despite my best efforts not to get my hopes up, I fail miserably. Leon makes me feel safe despite everything I know about him. Tiffany is thriving in this environment, and she’s become so attached to Rik, who often looks terrified to be near a child. But he’s incredibly gentle with her.

For the first time in my life, it feels like I’m actually living instead of merely existing. It’s a glimpse into the life I could have had if I’d told Leon the truth four years ago. Tiffany and I could have had an amazing life, and she could have had the safest, most blissful upbringing.

That kind of wishful thinking is dangerous, but it slips into my mind as I enjoy an hour alone taking care of myself for a change, while Tiffany plays with Ant under the watchful eye of Selina.

I’ve washed, shaved, waxed, and slathered myself in enough scented oils that I’m a walking commercial, but it’s luxurious, and I’m selfishly enjoying it. Just like I enjoy the warm dream invading my thoughts as I chase the what ifs of my past. Leon would have been over the moon to have a baby. I’m sure of it. Even now, he looks at her with adoration in his eyes, which, given how quickly she steals people’s hearts, is not a surprise. Leon asked once about Tiffany’s father, suspecting it was the man that attacked me, but I put that to rest with a claim that her father was a nobody who died.

Leon accepted that easily enough.

But what if he knew the truth? If I’d called him back then and told him I was pregnant, what would have happened? I play out his excitement as I lather thick shampoo into my hair and massage the tense points on my skull. Tiffany would never have had to sleep on the floor in my arms like she did when a flood swept through my apartment from a burst pipe and destroyed everything.

She would never have to hear Ant and I screaming at each other after finding him passed out. She never would have seen him high out of his mind with needles in his arms. She would have had a real Christmas tree, not one made up of dollar store colored paper and cards.

I’ve done my best but it’s hard not to compare now that I’ve had a taste of this life. Crime really does pay. But beneath the fantasies in my mind and the shea butter on my skin, doubt rumbles in my heart. I can’t stay here forever. Leon and I haven’t spoken about anything long term. Besides, I’m certain the Irish aren’t going to forget the amount of money Ant owes them and just stop looking for us.

I need a plan. The problem is, I have no clue where to start. This entire situation has been me desperately grasping at slim chances and hoping for the best, all to protect my daughter and my brother. That remains my priority.

Soon enough, Leon will start asking the right questions demanding real answers and I’m not sure how much longer I can lie.

Maybe we can flee the country. I could take Tiff somewhere warm and sunny, where we can blend in with the crowd and live a quiet life. That plan might actually be possible once Ant is clean. By then, he might have a sensible head back on his shoulders and he can help me.

I mull it over as I climb out of the shower onto heated tiles and wrap myself in the fluffiest towel. The luxury of this place is temptation wrapped in a bow, because there’s a large part of me that yearns to stay. It grows from a feeling of safety that I haven’t felt in years, and I’m enjoying the way Leon looks at me like I’m some tasty treat.

The sex is fantastic too.

So my choices are to stay and come up with some fantastical lie that keeps my family safe from the Irish for the rest of our lives, or leave and attempt to flee to another country, hoping for the best and that the Irish never find us.

I walk out of the bathroom, stopping short when I spot a gorgeous black dress laid out on the bed. There’s a white card resting on top of it. Picking it up, I can’t hide my smile as I’m met with a sweet message from Leon scrawled in black, swirling letters.

Brooke,

Care to join me for dinner tonight? I’ll have the finest silverware polished, and of course, only the best chicken nuggets and mac n cheese for Tiffany.

Regards,

Leon.

It’s so silly. The invitation has to come from a comment I made a few nights ago about how regal and fancy this place is compared to my apartment. Is Leon playing into that? I kind of love that he might be.

The smile doesn’t leave my face as I dry myself off, blow dry my hair and slip into the dress. It’s made of silk, caressing my skin as soft as a whisper while hugging my curves in a flattering way.

I look… beautiful.

“Wow,” I breathe out softly. “I don’t think I’ve ever looked this good.” I turn back and forth, admiring myself in the full-length mirror. Every single day I’m teased with a reminder of how good this life can be.

I grab my phone from the bedside table and snap a few pictures, determined to remember this regardless of which path I choose for the future. It may be the first time I’ve ever taken a picture without a filter. As I’m saving them, a text pings through, and I’m giddy with excitement assuming it’s from Leon.

It isn’t.

As I open the message from an unknown number, all the colors in my world immediately vanish. A searing cold sweeps through my body, turning my limbs to ice as I stare down at the most grotesque picture I’ve ever seen in my life.

It’s Hannah.

My nanny.

She’s dead.

Sweet, funny, kind Hannah who helped me teach Tiffany to walk and cared for her while I was so swamped with work.

Her face is peaceful, soft and sweet with her hair curled around her forehead and her eyes closed as if she’s sleeping. But she’s not sleeping.

Her mutilated body takes up the majority of the picture. Her chest has been split wide open, her ribs protruding through flesh, several organs ripped out and discarded. Her arms and legs are bloody, covered in hundreds of cuts and wounds. There are far too many for me to count. The little bit of skin that’s visible and not covered in blood is bruised, one arm resting at an odd angle, suggesting the bone is broken in multiple places.

They also slit her throat.

The picture is so horrific that I don’t know where to look. My stomach cramps sharply, and a deep agony cuts through my chest as I stare down at her face in complete horror.

Hannah.

My eyes flood with tears and I don’t notice the text at the bottom of the picture until I blink, forcing the tears to roll down my cheek.

Tick Tock.

A wave of acidic heat suddenly explodes through my body and I sprint for the bathroom, barely making it to the toilet as my body convulses and I puke up my disgust. Each wave of nausea is agony. I tremble violently and I can barely breathe as I retch repeatedly until my throat is raw and my body feels like it’s been turned inside out.

I’m sobbing uncontrollably and an unnatural chill cloaks my body, creating a trail of gooseflesh over my arms and legs.

This is my fault.

I did this.

Hannah was tortured and murdered because of me.

She was good. She was so good and innocent.

That bastard Paul. He told me he didn’t know where my babysitter lived. I should have known he was lying. I should have warned her.

One phone call and I could have warned her that she was in danger, that she needed to get to someplace safe.

She’s dead because of me.

No, wait. She’s dead because of Ant.

The arson at my shop should have been a big enough clue, but I was so caught up in my comfort here that it never crossed my mind that the Irish would actually cast a wider net to find me.

They didn’t just kill her. They clearly tortured her.

I pick up my phone from where it fell on the floor as I was puking, and with trembling hands, I turn it around. Hannah’s mutilated body is still on the screen, a fresh wave of agony cutting through my churning gut.

I’m guessing they tortured her both for fun and for information, but she wouldn’t have had anything to tell them. She didn’t know anything about Ant’s involvement with the Irish.

They killed her to get information about me and I will never be able to forgive myself.

I sob so hard that I begin to choke, the tears constantly streaming down my face while I huddle in the corner next to the toilet.

My god, what have I done?

I hear my bedroom door bang against the wall then the door to the bathroom flies wide open. Leon stands there panting. The moment he spots me, he leans down and grabs me by the shoulders, shaking me.

“Brooke! Brooke, what the fuck is going on?”

I can’t speak. I can’t breathe. All I can do is cry, unable to see anything but Hannah’s mutilated body, the horrible image now seared into my mind.

It’s exactly what I deserve.

When Leon doesn’t get an answer, he gathers me to his chest and curls around me, holding me while I sob. I don’t deserve such comfort but I don’t have the strength to push him away.

Hannah’s blood is on my hands.

“Drink this.” Leon passes me a steaming cup of tea, then walks away to stand near the window.

My phone sits on the table across from me, the screen now dark but it doesn’t matter—I can still see that picture of Hannah. The details are burned into my mind. Leon held me in the bathroom until I sobbed myself to exhaustion, unable to talk or explain anything. He stayed with me, showing me kindness I do not deserve.

“Drink,” he says from across the room.

Leon has turned and is watching me stare blankly at the steaming mug. His command is sharp but gentle, and I follow it by obediently taking a sip of the hot, sweet tea. It burns my raw throat, and I follow that sensation as the tea sweeps down my gullet and hits my raw stomach. Muscles contract, and I fear I’m about to be sick again, but the sensation passes.

Another sip and another wave of pain until my stomach becomes as numb as the rest of me. Once the cup is empty, I set it down and clutch at the blanket around my shoulders. A fresh wave of tears threatens to flood my eyes. I close them to try and prevent them from falling.

I fail.

“Brooke.” Leon is closer now, hovering nearby as he waits for answers. I don’t know how to talk to him. Telling him the truth could have him casting me out, and then nothing will prevent the Irish from doing to me what they did to Hannah.

I’d deserve it.

My thoughtlessness and desperation led to an innocent woman getting killed.

I can’t let that happen again. Not ever. The men that killed Hannah are unphased by suffering and brutality like that. So is Leon.

To the Irish, Hannah was nothing more than a tool, but to me she was my friend. A person.

How do I keep Tiffany safe from those monsters?

“Brooke,” Leon tries again. “Who is that woman to you? Why would someone send you a picture like that?”

I open my eyes and clasp my shaking hands together. Then I slowly look up at him. “Because I caused it.”

Leon moves to sit on the table, pushing the cup aside. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“I did,” I whisper, my voice now trembling harder than my hands. “She’s dead, and it’s all my fault.” My head dips and my stomach contracts. “It’s my fault.”

“Brooke. I need an explanation. That picture is a message. A very clear one.”

A thought occurs to me then. A distraction from having to tell the truth. “How did you know?” I lift my head. “How did you know about it? You rushed up here within minutes after it came through.”

“I cloned your phone when you arrived,” Leon answers with unexpected honesty. “The way you turned up here was abrupt and I had to know your intentions were not sinister. My line of work is⁠—”

“Criminal,” I say hoarsely.

His eyes narrow.

“I saw you on the news. Standing next to your father. I know you’re criminals.”

Leon sighs tightly, almost whistling as he does so. “And yet you still came.”

“I had nowhere else to go.”

“Because of this?” He reaches down and taps my phone. “This isn’t someone tossing your place of business then burning it down, Brooke. This woman was eviscerated and tortured. Who was she?”

I stare at the dark screen on my phone, seeing only the picture of her body. “My nanny. My friend. She… she took care of Tiffany while I was working. She was a good person. She was sweet and kind. She was…” Grief and guilt overwhelm me and I clasp a hand to my mouth. “Oh, god, I got her killed.”

“Why? How? You keep saying that but you’re not giving me any explanation. Brooke, you need to tell me the truth,” Leon says firmly. “I can’t help you unless you do.”

I look in his eyes. Telling him the truth would be simpler if I were by myself, but I can’t risk putting Tiffany in harm’s way. I have to lie because I don’t know his connection to these people. I just have to trust that whatever he feels for me is more powerful.

“I wasn’t entirely honest with you when I came here.”

Leon holds eye contact but doesn’t make a sound.

“I was attacked. And I did have to run, that’s all true. The only difference is, well….” I attempt to steady myself with a deep breath. “Ant and I owe someone a lot of money. I’m talking an eye-watering, life-changing amount of money. We ran out of time to pay it back because I barely make enough to cover basic expenses. My business isn’t profitable yet and Ant is… well, you’ve seen him.”

Leon nods slowly.

“He got tired of waiting and wanted me to give him my business but it wasn’t worth what we owe. I knew he was getting restless so I ran to protect Tiffany. And in doing so, I completely forgot about Hannah. It didn’t even cross my mind that he would start attacking people close to me.” The tears fall and I drop my head into my hands. “He killed her to show me I was running out of time.”

Leon’s warm hand lands on the back of my neck, massaging slowly. “Shit.”

“I don’t know what to do. I didn’t think he was capable of something like that. I can’t believe he did that to her. She’s dead and it’s all my fault!”

Leon slowly pulls me into a hug, his silence the heartbreaking confirmation I fear. This is my fault. And the only way to make it right is to make sure no one else suffers the same way.

“Is there anyone else that he would target?” Leon asks.

“I have no one else close to me like Hannah was. The only people I talk to is the librarian and a grocery store clerk who always sets aside my favorite wine. And of course my clients.”

“Who is this man you owe money to?”

“Just a guy.”

“Brooke.”

“It’s true. He’s just a guy named Paul. I know nothing else. Ant got into debt with him and I tried to help. Now we’re in this mess together and I have no idea what I’m supposed to do.”

Leon’s grip tightens and I lift my head, clutching at his shirt. “Please,” I beg. “Please, you have to help me pay him back so no one else gets hurt, and then I can owe you the money. I’ll pay it back, I swear, but please, I can’t have anyone else die because of me.”

“How much?” Leon asks the dreaded question.

I sniffle hard and wipe my eyes with the back of my wrist. “Seven hundred and fifty thousand dollars,” I whisper.

Leon locks eyes with me and my heart begins to race. I’m so distraught that I can’t tell if my lie is even believable. I know I’m asking him for a dangerous amount of money and he will surely say no.

Leon tucks a tear-soaked strand of hair behind my ear. “Okay. I will give you the money you need if you stay here with me. Forever.”