Chapter 11 - THE BROTHER WHO HATED MY FAMILY

The address led me to an old warehouse on the edge of the city.

No security.

No cameras.

No protection.

Just a place where someone went when they didn’t want to be found.

Clara came with me.

“You’re sure this is a good idea?”

“No.”

I looked at the building.

“But I need answers.”

The door opened before we knocked.

A man stood there.

Older than me.

A scar across his eyebrow.

Cold eyes.

But something about his face felt familiar.

“Vincent Blackwood.”

My throat tightened.

“Lucas.”

For a moment, nobody spoke.

Then he laughed.

A bitter laugh.

“So they finally told you.”

I stepped inside.

“Why did nobody tell me?”

His expression changed.

“Because your family is good at hiding things.”

The words hurt.

Because I knew he believed them.

“I spent thirty years thinking my family abandoned me.”

Lucas looked at me.

“You think you’re the only one?”

Silence.

He walked toward a table.

“My whole life, I was told the Blackwoods didn’t want me.”

“That’s not true.”

“You weren’t there.”

His voice became louder.

“You don’t know what it was like.”

I stayed quiet.

Because he was right.

I didn’t.

Lucas showed me documents.

Letters.

Photos.

Proof that Arthur had controlled his life too.

“He told me your father chose you.”

My chest tightened.

“That was a lie.”

Lucas looked at me.

“Was it?”

I had no answer.

Because my father had made mistakes.

Huge ones.

But he had also suffered.

Lucas turned away.

“There’s something you need to know.”

“What?”

“Arthur wasn’t the only person involved.”

I froze.

“What do you mean?”

Lucas opened a folder.

Inside were documents from thirty years ago.

At the bottom of one page was a signature.

My father’s signature.

I stared at it.

“What is this?”

Lucas looked at me.

“The agreement that destroyed my life.”

I couldn’t believe what I was seeing.

“My father signed this?”

“Yes.”

My heart sank.

“No.”

Lucas stepped closer.

“You still believe he’s innocent.”

I looked at the document again.

The signature was real.

My father had signed something.

Something that changed everything.

Then Lucas said:

“Ask him why he chose to save you instead of me.”

The words cut deeper than any accusation.

That night, I returned home.

My father was waiting.

I placed the document on the table.

“Explain.”

He looked at it.

And his face changed.

Not confusion.

Not surprise.

Fear.

“Where did you get this?”

“Lucas.”

My father closed his eyes.

After thirty years…

The truth had finally caught him.

“I didn’t choose you over him.”

His voice shook.

“I was forced to choose.”

I stared at him.

“By who?”

He looked toward the dark window.

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