Chapter 1 - THE MAN WHO STOOD UP
“Because someone inside your own family has already ordered your death... and Elena is the only person who knows who it is.”
Margaret Cross's words silenced the enormous drawing room.
Six armed men stood beneath the chandeliers, their weapons lowered. Rain battered the tall windows. Julian Cross remained on his feet beside the wheelchair he'd supposedly needed for three months.
And I stood between him and his sister, struggling to breathe.
My name was Elena.
At twenty-four, I'd learned that poverty could force a person to make difficult choices.
But nothing in my life had prepared me for this.
Julian turned toward Margaret.
“Who?”
Margaret didn't answer immediately.
She looked at me.
I knew that expression.
She was asking whether I was ready.
I wasn't.
But I'd spent three months living inside a lie, and I was finished hiding.
“Your uncle,” I whispered.
Julian's eyes narrowed.
“Victor?”
I nodded.
“Victor Cross.”
For a moment, his face showed nothing.
Then he laughed.
Not because anything was funny.
Because the alternative was rage.
“My uncle raised me after my father died.”
“I know.”
“He's been my closest adviser for twenty years.”
“I know.”
Julian stepped toward me.
“How would a maid know something my entire security organization doesn't?”
My throat tightened.
“Because my real name isn't Elena Parker.”
His expression changed.
Margaret closed her eyes.
I forced myself to continue.
“My name is Elena Morales.”
The room went completely still.
Julian stared at me.
“Morales?”
I nodded.
“My father was Rafael Morales.”
The scarred man beside the fireplace muttered something under his breath.
Julian didn't move.
“Rafael Morales worked for Victor.”
“Yes.”
“He disappeared eight years ago.”
“He didn't disappear.”
My eyes filled.
“He was murdered.”
Julian's jaw tightened.
“And you think Victor killed him?”
“I know Victor ordered it.”
“Proof?”
I reached beneath the collar of my blouse and pulled out a small silver key hanging from a chain.
“My father left me something before he died.”
Julian stared at it.
“What does that open?”
“A safety-deposit box.”
“Where?”
“Brooklyn.”
“And what's inside?”
I swallowed.
“A ledger. Names. Payments. Dates. Everything Victor has done behind your back.”
Julian looked toward Margaret.
“You knew?”
She nodded.
“I knew Rafael's daughter had survived. I knew Victor was looking for her. And I knew the only place he wouldn't dare search openly was your mansion.”
Julian's eyes returned to me.
“So you came here to use me.”
I flinched.
“At first.”
His expression hardened.
“At first?”
I stared at the wheelchair.
At the man I'd cared for.
At the man who had allowed me to believe he couldn't walk.
“I didn't know you were pretending.”
Julian said nothing.
“I washed your clothes. Helped you dress. Stayed awake when you said your legs hurt.”
My voice broke.
“I cried because I thought you would never walk again.”
He looked away.
I stepped closer.
“And tonight, I thought six men were going to murder you.”
“Elena—”
“You watched me stand in front of their guns.”
His jaw tightened.
“It was supposed to be controlled.”
“Controlled?”
My voice rose.
“I thought I was going to die!”
Margaret looked sharply at her brother.
“You staged an armed attack?”
Julian didn't answer.
She stepped toward him.
“Julian, what have you done?”
For the first time, the feared Black Devil looked uncertain.
I wiped my cheeks.
“You wanted to know whether my loyalty was real.”
I looked directly into his gray eyes.
“Now you know.”
Then I took off the silver key and placed it on the table.
“But I need to know something too.”
Julian stared at me.
“What?”
“Was any of the kindness you showed me real?”
He opened his mouth.
No answer came.
That silence was enough.
I turned toward the door.
“Elena,” he said.
I stopped.
“Don't leave.”
I looked back.
“You don't get to give me orders anymore.”
May you like
Then I walked out of the mansion.
And behind me, for the first time in his life, Julian Cross let someone leave without knowing whether they would ever come back.
