His voice cracked, and for a split second I thought he might collapse.
“I need your help,” he finished, gripping the doorframe as if it were the only thing holding him upright.
I unlocked the chain immediately and pulled the door open.
“Gabriel, you’re burning up,” I said, grabbing his arm. His skin was alarmingly hot, slick with rain and sweat. “What’s wrong with you?”
He staggered inside, the wind howling behind him until I slammed the door shut. The cottage felt suddenly too small, the air thick with tension and ozone from the storm.
“I couldn’t wake anyone,” he muttered. “The power’s out in the main house. Security’s sheltering in the west wing. I didn’t want… witnesses.”
That made my stomach drop.
“Witnesses to what?” I asked.
He looked at me then—really looked at me—and the wildness in his eyes wasn’t desire or madness. It was fear.
“I’m losing time,” he said. “And I think I’m about to tell you something I was never supposed to.”
I guided him to the sofa, wrapped a blanket around his shoulders, and rushed to the kitchen for water. When I returned, he was staring at the framed photo on my shelf—me and Liam on our wedding day.
“You still keep it,” he said hoarsely.
“He was my husband,” I replied. “Of course I do.”
Gabriel swallowed hard. His hands were shaking now.
“Elara,” he said, “the proposal I’m about to make… once I say it, there’s no going back.”
My heart hammered. “Gabriel, if this is about money or the estate—”
“It’s about Liam.”
The room seemed to tilt.
“He didn’t die the way you were told,” Gabriel said.
The storm thundered overhead, rattling the windows as if the house itself were reacting.
“What do you mean?” I whispered.
Gabriel leaned forward, elbows on his knees, face buried in his hands. “I need you to sign something tonight. Not because I own you. Not because you owe me. But because if I don’t fix what I broke, Victoria—and you—will lose everything.”
I stared at him. “You’re not making sense.”
“Two years ago,” he said slowly, “Liam discovered something. About the Blackwood accounts. About me.”
My chest tightened. “Go on.”
“He confronted me. We argued. He stormed out into the rain.” Gabriel’s voice fractured. “The accident wasn’t an accident. Not entirely. If I had let him go… if I hadn’t chased him—”
I stood up abruptly. “Stop.”
He looked up, eyes shining. “I’ve lived every day since then trying to atone without confessing. I convinced myself silence was protecting you.”
“Protecting me from what?” I demanded.
“From knowing your husband died trying to do the right thing,” Gabriel said. “And from knowing his own brother failed him.”
Silence fell, broken only by the storm.
“What is the proposal?” I asked, my voice numb.
He reached into his soaked pants and pulled out a thick envelope, the edges already damp.
“I need you to become the temporary executor of Liam’s remaining trusts,” he said. “Tonight. Before my medical condition worsens and before Victoria returns. There are documents hidden under his name—accounts he protected for you. I’ve been blocking them.”
I laughed once, sharply. “You expect me to help you cover this up?”
“No,” Gabriel said. “I expect you to expose it. But legally. Safely. With control.”
He met my eyes. “I’m not asking for forgiveness. I’m asking you to finish what Liam started.”
Lightning flashed, illuminating his face—and for the first time, I didn’t see the powerful Blackwood heir.
I saw a man unraveling under the weight of his own secrets.
I took the envelope from his trembling hands.
“Sit still,” I said quietly. “You’re in no state to make demands.”
“What if I pass out?” he asked.
“Then I call an ambulance,” I replied. “And tomorrow, lawyers.”
He nodded, exhausted. Relieved.
As I turned toward the phone, a single thought echoed through my mind:
I had stayed on this estate thinking I was protected.
But tonight, I realized I had been placed here for a reason.
And whatever Liam died trying to uncover…
the storm was only just beginning.