The smoke clawed at my throat, filling my lungs with fire. Each breath was a knife. My mother’s trembling hand clung desperately to mine, her nails digging into my skin. Evelyn lay on the floor, her frail chest rising in ragged gasps as she fought for air. Across the room, Clarissa pressed herself against the wall, her wide eyes darting between me and the men with guns.
And then he stepped forward—the man in the tailored suit. Calm in the chaos, as if he were master of it. His polished shoes clicked against the wood with a predator’s rhythm. That smug smile never wavered.
“You have ten seconds, Nathan,” he said coldly, his voice slicing through the choking air. “Bring me the journal from the piano… or your mother dies first.”
Rage boiled in my chest. My mother buried her face against my shoulder, her voice a desperate whisper.
“Don’t let him have it. Your father died for it… don’t let his death be for nothing.”
Ward stood near the shattered window, his gun raised steady despite the smoke swirling around him. “Nathan, listen to her,” he barked. “That journal is the key. If he gets it, every soul in this city becomes his slave.”
The men in black shifted, their rifles tightening in their grip.
My voice cracked as I forced the words out: “And if I refuse?”
The suited man’s smile widened, cruel and deliberate. “Then you’ll watch your mother bleed in front of you. And that image will haunt you for however long you survive afterward. Which won’t be long.”
My pulse hammered so hard it hurt.
Suddenly, Clarissa moved. She stepped between me and the gunmen, her arms spread. “Stop this! If it’s the journal you want, take me instead. Just… leave them alone.”
The man’s smirk darkened into disdain. “Clarissa… still clinging to illusions? You’ve always been a pawn. Pretty to look at, clever enough to use, but nothing more than a piece to sacrifice.”
Her lips quivered. Shame flickered in her eyes—yet her hand crept toward something hidden beneath her coat.
My mother’s grip on my arm tightened like a vice. “Nathan,” she whispered urgently. “There’s more than one copy.”
I blinked at her, stunned. “What?”
Tears glistened on her cheeks. “Your father wasn’t a fool. The journal in the piano—it’s only half the truth. The rest is hidden where no one would ever think to look.”
The suited man stiffened. “She lies.” But the flicker of doubt in his eyes betrayed him.
I turned toward the piano. Its surface was dulled with dust, but memories surged: my mother’s fingers dancing across the keys, lullabies that once soothed me and Elijah into sleep. That piano carried more than music—it carried secrets.
I moved toward it. Guns rose instantly.
“Nathan! Don’t!” Ward’s shout was a warning lost in the storm.
But I was already lifting the lid.
And there it was.
A thick leather-bound book, hidden beneath a false bottom. The cover cracked with age, the initials “G.G.” carved deep—my father’s mark.
The suited man’s eyes burned with triumph. “Bring it to me.”
The weight of the journal was staggering, as if centuries of blood and betrayal pressed against my chest. For two decades I had been nothing—forgotten, invisible. Now I held the very thing people killed for.
Ward’s voice cut through the smoke: “Nathan… if you hand that to him, you doom us all.”
My mother’s whisper trembled against my ear. “Trust yourself. Not them. Not anyone. You.”
“Nathan—NOW!” the man roared, his voice like thunder.
And then the impossible happened.
Clarissa drew a gun from her coat and fired—not at me, not at my mother, but at one of the black-clad men. His body crumpled, weapon clattering to the floor.
Chaos erupted. Ward returned fire toward the window, shattering glass. Evelyn screamed, shielding her head. The suited man’s fury broke loose as his guards retaliated.
I clutched the journal tighter, the smoke and gunfire swirling like a nightmare around me.
My mother’s voice pierced the madness: “Nathan—don’t let anyone touch it! Not even her!”
I spun.
Clarissa stood there, her gun still smoking, tears streaking her face. “Nathan—give it to me. Please. I’ll protect it. I’ll protect you.”
My grip tightened. “Why should I believe you?”
Her voice cracked. “Because… your mother trusted me with it first. Years ago. I gave it back. Don’t you see? I had my chance to betray you before. I didn’t.”
My thoughts twisted, colliding with each other. My mother’s words—trust yourself—echoed in my skull.
Then, through the smoke and thunder, came the suited man’s voice. Cold. Certain. Deadly.
“You think that journal will save you, Nathan? No. It will destroy you. Because within its pages lies a name—a name you’re not ready to face. The name of your true father.”
The world tilted. My knees buckled.
“What?” My voice cracked like glass.
He grinned, a devil in the smoke. “Yes. The man you worshipped… was never your father at all.”
I turned to my mother. Her face had drained of all color. Her lips trembled. “Nathan… it’s not what you think…”
But her terror told me it was exactly what I feared.
The journal grew heavier in my hands, a curse waiting to be opened.
Ward grabbed me, his voice desperate. “Nathan! Don’t listen to him! We have to leave—NOW!”
But I couldn’t move. The floor spun. My chest caved.
Behind me, the suited man’s laughter rumbled through the smoke, cruel and victorious.
“You’ve chased truth your whole life, Nathan,” he said. “Tonight, you finally caught it. The question is… will it kill you before you read the last page?”
Gunfire. Shouts. My mother’s cry.
And I knew in my bones—
The deadliest weapon in this room wasn’t the bullets.
It was the journal in my hands.
The smoke thickened, turning the air into poison. Gunfire cracked like thunder, splintering the walls. My mother’s screams, Ward’s shouts, Clarissa’s sobs—they all blurred together until only one sound cut through the chaos: the pounding of my own heart.
The journal burned against my chest, heavier than iron. The suited man’s words echoed like a curse: Inside lies the name of your real father.
I staggered back, clutching it tighter. My voice broke as I turned to my mother. “Is it true? Tell me! WHO WAS HE?”
Her face was pale as ash. Tears streamed down her cheeks. She shook her head weakly. “Nathan… please, not here, not now—”
“Tell me!” I roared, my rage drowning the gunfire.
Her lips trembled. At last, the truth slipped out like a blade drawn in the dark.
“He wasn’t the man you thought. Your father—the one who raised you—he was kind, but he wasn’t your blood. The real man… was someone else. Someone dangerous.”
My legs nearly gave out. The world tilted. All my life had been built on a lie.
And then—before I could breathe—Clarissa’s voice cut in. Her gun still shook in her hand, her eyes wide. “Nathan… listen to me. The name in that journal—it’s the same man who’s standing in front of you right now.”
My gaze snapped to the suited man. His smirk widened.
“Finally,” he said, spreading his arms as if to embrace me. “The truth surfaces.”
The room seemed to collapse into silence.
“What…?” My voice was barely a whisper.
“Yes, Nathan. I am your father.” His grin sharpened. “And you—you are my son. My heir. All this running, all this suffering… only to find your way back to me.”
My stomach turned to stone. “No… no, that’s impossible.”
Ward’s voice cracked like a whip. “Don’t believe him! Nathan—he’s playing with you. He’s lied to everyone. He killed your real father!”
The suited man’s eyes gleamed with malice. “Wrong. I spared his life—once. Long enough for him to raise you in weakness. But blood calls to blood, Nathan. You are mine. The journal will prove it.”
My mother screamed, clutching her chest. “Don’t listen! He’s poison! He destroyed everything—he destroyed Elijah!”
Elijah.
The name struck like lightning. Memories surged—my brother’s laugh, his shadow beside me as a child, the night he disappeared. My throat tightened.
“What about Elijah?” I whispered.
The man’s smirk deepened. “Ah. At last, the piece you’ve been missing. Your twin. The one fate separated from you.”
Clarissa’s hand flew to her mouth. My mother sobbed.
“Yes,” the suited man continued. “The boy you thought dead—the boy they hid from you—was mine all along. Raised in my world, forged in my fire. He walks among you even now. The beggar you pitied. The man who saved you without knowing.”
The words detonated in my mind.
The homeless man. The stranger who had pulled me from the flames weeks ago, who asked for nothing, who vanished into the shadows… He wasn’t a stranger at all.
He was Elijah. My twin brother.
The journal slipped from my fingers and thudded onto the floor.
I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t move.
Behind me, Ward shouted, “Nathan! Don’t listen! We have to move!” Clarissa reached for my hand, tears streaming. My mother fell to her knees, begging, “Don’t let him take you, Nathan! Don’t let him steal both my sons!”
The suited man’s voice thundered above the chaos, cruel and triumphant. “Choose, Nathan! Your mother’s lies… or the truth of your blood!”
The room spun. Smoke burned my eyes. Gunfire rattled. The journal lay at my feet, its cracked leather cover staring back like an open wound.
And in that moment, I understood.
The journal wasn’t salvation. It wasn’t even a weapon. It was a mirror, forcing me to face the truth I had been running from my whole life.
I bent, picked it up—then hurled it into the flames.
The man’s roar shook the walls. “NO!”
The leather curled, pages shrieking as fire devoured them. My father’s initials vanished in smoke. The past was gone.
I turned, my voice steady for the first time. “You wanted me to be your son? Then hear this: I am nothing like you. My blood doesn’t bind me to your evil. My choices do.”
Ward grabbed me, pulling me toward the broken window. Clarissa covered us, firing until her gun clicked empty. My mother clung to me, sobbing into my shoulder.
And behind us, the man’s furious laughter rose above the inferno.
“Run, Nathan! Run as far as you like. Blood always wins. And when your twin finds you—he will bring you back to me.”
His laughter chased us into the night, haunting, endless.
We escaped, but I knew the battle wasn’t over.
Because somewhere out there—in the shadows of this burning city—my twin brother was waiting.
Not as a savior.
Not as an enemy.
But as the test of who I truly was.
And one day, we would meet.
Face to face.
