The weight of my uncle’s death hits me harder than I expected. I stare at the empty decanter of whiskey on his desk, my fingers brushing the leather armrest of his chair.
I hated him for everything he did-his manipulation, his threats, his games-but he was still family. And now he’s gone, his blood staining the very floor where we argued just yesterday.
Grief grips me like a vice, but beneath it, something colder begins to rise. This is an opportunity. His death creates a power vacuum, and I could fill it-if I play my cards right.
But I can’t shake the gnawing question: Do I seek revenge? Or use his death to consolidate my power?
I close my eyes, trying to block out the rage, the sorrow, and the endless thoughts whirling in my head.
Power or revenge?
I’m still in the study when Ethan calls. His voice purrs through the speaker, smooth and calculated.
“Word travels fast,” he says. “I heard about your uncle. My condolences.”
“Save the condolences, Ethan.” My voice is sharp, harder than I intended. “Let’s not pretend we’re something we’re not.”
He chuckles, a low, dark sound that makes my skin crawl. “Fair enough. But you should know, Alyssa, this could work in your favor.”
“And how’s that?”
“Your uncle was a barrier,” he says. “Always standing in the way of your rise to power. Now, you have no more obstacles. It’s your move.”
I clench my jaw, gripping the phone tighter. “Did you have anything to do with his death?”
There’s a pause-too long to be innocent. “You wound me, Alyssa. Do you really think I’d do that without telling you first?”
I don’t believe him for a second, but I play along. “If I take control of the family business,” I say slowly, “what’s in it for you?”
“Mutual benefits,” he replies smoothly. “A partnership-one where we both get what we want.”
“You mean where you get what you want,” I snap.
“Isn’t that what you’re after, too?” he asks, his voice laced with amusement. “Come on, Alyssa. We’re more alike than you think.”
I end the call without answering. He’s not wrong-and that’s what terrifies me.
Torn Between Two Paths
Hours pass in a blur of restless thoughts. I pace the length of my uncle’s office, chewing on every word, every possibility.
Revenge or power. The decision looms over me like a guillotine.
I know the risks. If I seek revenge, it could mean war-another body in a long line of corpses. But if I seize power instead, I could end this game once and for all.
A knock at the door jolts me from my thoughts. Isabella slips into the room, her expression grave. “You need to make a decision, Alyssa. Now.”
“I know,” I mutter, dragging a hand through my hair.
“Do you want revenge, or do you want control?” she asks bluntly.
I glare at her. “Why can’t I have both?”
She smiles faintly, a flicker of approval in her dark eyes. “Because if you try to have everything, you’ll end up with nothing.”
Before I can respond, my phone buzzes again. A delivery notification.
“Someone left a package for you at the front gate,” Isabella says, glancing at her own phone. “Do you want me to grab it?”
“No,” I say, standing. “I’ll get it myself.”
The package is waiting on the doorstep, wrapped in plain brown paper with no return address. My heart pounds as I carry it inside and set it on the desk.
Isabella watches me, her arms folded. “What do you think it is?”
“Only one way to find out.”
I grab a knife and slice through the paper, revealing a sleek black box. My gut twists with unease. This feels personal. Too personal.
Inside, I find an envelope and a flash drive.
I plug the flash drive into the laptop, and a single video file pops up. My fingers hover over the mouse, hesitation gnawing at me.
Whatever’s on this drive will change everything-I know it. But there’s no turning back now.
I click play.
The screen flickers, and then I see it: grainy security footage from my uncle’s study. My breath catches in my throat as the events unfold in horrifying clarity.
The video shows my uncle sitting at his desk, completely unaware. The door creaks open, and a shadowy figure steps inside.
When the figure moves into the light, my stomach drops.
It’s someone I know.
Someone I trust.
The killer is Isabella.
I can’t breathe. My heart pounds in my chest, disbelief washing over me in waves. This has to be a trick-a lie.
But the footage is undeniable. It shows her moving with precision, slicing my uncle’s throat in one clean motion, then wiping the blade without a trace of hesitation.
The video ends with Isabella calmly leaving the room, as if she hadn’t just ended a life.
I slowly turn to face Isabella, who’s still standing beside me, watching my every move.
“You,” I whisper, my voice shaking. “It was you.”
Her expression remains neutral, unreadable. “I did what had to be done.”
“Why?” I demand, my voice rising. “Why would you do this?”
Isabella steps closer, her eyes cold. “Because your uncle was a liability. He was working with the third player, and he was going to turn on you the moment you became useful.”
“And you decided to kill him?” I hiss, my fists clenching.
She tilts her head, unbothered by my anger. “I saved you, Alyssa. If he lived, you would’ve been next.”
I stare at her, disbelief and rage swirling inside me. She murdered my uncle-and she thinks she did me a favor.
Before I can react, Isabella slides the envelope across the desk. “There’s more you need to know.”
Inside the envelope, I find photos-images of Isabella meeting with someone familiar. Ethan.
“You think this is over?” Isabella asks softly. “It’s just beginning.”