Chapter 4 - THE BROTHER I COULDN'T AFFORD TO LOSE
Z
My brother's name was Daniel Mitchell.
He was twenty-four, six feet tall, and had once been the kind of person who could make an entire room laugh simply by entering it.
Then a construction accident changed everything.
Eighteen months earlier, Daniel fell from scaffolding at a downtown renovation site.
He survived.
But the fall left him with a spinal injury, chronic pain, and a long recovery that our family couldn't afford.
Our parents had died years earlier.
There was nobody else.
I worked at the Moretti mansion because the pay was better than anywhere else I could find.
I accepted extra shifts because Daniel needed therapy.
I tolerated Vanessa's insults because rent was due.
And I kept smiling because Daniel hated knowing how much I worried.
Now someone had threatened him.
I called his phone.
No answer.
I called again.
Voicemail.
My hands began shaking.
Gabriel appeared at the end of the corridor.
“Anna?”
I showed him the message.
His expression changed.
“Where's your brother?”
“At Lakeshore Rehabilitation Center.”
He immediately called Luca.
Within minutes, the mansion's security office was reviewing the situation.
Luca came downstairs without his jacket.
“What happened?”
I handed him my phone.
He read the messages.
Then looked at me.
“Anna, we're contacting the police and the rehabilitation center.”
I shook my head.
“Please don't make this worse.”
His expression softened.
“I'm not going to confront anyone. We're going to make sure Daniel is safe.”
I swallowed.
“Can I go to him?”
“Of course.”
Rebecca stepped into the corridor.
“I'll come with you.”
I looked at her.
“Why?”
“Because if someone is using your brother to threaten you, you may need an attorney.”
I stared at her.
“I can't afford one.”
“We can discuss independent representation and legal-aid options.”
I wanted to cry.
But there wasn't time.
We drove to the rehabilitation center.
When we arrived, Daniel was sitting in bed watching a basketball game.
He looked up.
“Anna?”
I rushed to him.
He caught my good hand.
“Hey. What's wrong?”
I hugged him carefully.
“Nothing.”
He looked at my sling.
“That's not nothing.”
I tried to smile.
“Work accident.”
His expression darkened.
“Again?”
I froze.
Daniel knew Vanessa had been difficult.
But he didn't know she'd hurt me.
He looked toward Rebecca.
“Who are you?”
“Rebecca Shaw. I'm an attorney.”
Daniel looked back at me.
“Anna.”
I sat beside him.
And for the first time in months, I told him the truth.
About Vanessa.
About the bruises.
About the threats.
About how afraid I was of losing my job.
Daniel listened without interrupting.
Then he whispered:
“You should've told me.”
I looked down.
“I didn't want you to worry.”
He squeezed my hand.
“I'm your brother. Worrying about you is part of the job.”
I started crying.
He pulled me into a careful hug.
For a moment, I was sixteen again, sitting beside him after our parents' funeral, promising we'd always take care of each other.
Then Daniel said something that made Rebecca lean forward.
“Anna, that woman came here.”
I froze.
“Who?”
“Vanessa.”
My blood turned cold.
“When?”
“Tuesday.”
I stared.
Daniel continued.
“She said she was arranging financial assistance for my treatment.”
Rebecca's expression sharpened.
“Did she ask you to sign anything?”
Daniel nodded.
“Yeah.”
He pointed toward the bedside drawer.
“A medical authorization form.”
Rebecca opened it.
Read the document.
And went pale.
“Daniel,” she said carefully, “this isn't a medical authorization.”
I looked at her.
“What is it?”
She raised her eyes.
May you like
“It's a release permitting a private investigator to obtain information about your sister.”
---
Related Stories
