Chapter 3 - The Brother I Was Told to Fear
I didn’t raise my eyes immediately.
Gabriel stood six feet away.
Gun in one hand.
His face unreadable.
My mother’s letter was still open on the laptop.
Do not trust Gabriel.
The anonymous message in my hand said the same thing.
Run from Gabriel.
Coincidence had just become impossible.
“Elena,” he said carefully.
I backed toward the kitchen.
“Put the gun down.”
His expression changed.
“What?”
“Put it down.”
He looked at the weapon as though he had forgotten he was holding it.
Then he slowly placed it on the floor.
I kept moving.
“Who had access to my coat?”
“No one.”
“Someone put this note in it.”
“Adrian.”
“He never touched my coat.”
“Vivian?”
“She stood beside me for less than thirty seconds.”
“That’s enough.”
“Mom wrote not to trust you.”
“I know.”
“You said you’d never seen that letter.”
“I haven’t.”
“How am I supposed to believe you?”
Gabriel’s face twisted.
“You shouldn’t.”
That surprised me.
“What?”
“You shouldn’t automatically believe me. You spent nine years trusting the wrong man. If tonight taught you anything, it should be to stop handing out trust because someone shares your blood or your bed.”
He stepped away from the gun.
“But don’t run blindly because an anonymous message tells you to.”
“Who sent it?”
“That’s what we need to find out.”
The buzzer rang again.
Gabriel motioned toward the bedroom.
“Go.”
“No.”
“Elena.”
“I’m tired of being put in rooms while men decide what happens.”
“Someone is downstairs.”
“And I want to know who.”
His eyes flashed.
Then, surprisingly, he nodded.
“Fine. Stand behind the wall.”
He retrieved the gun and moved toward the door.
Instead of opening it, he checked a small monitor hidden inside a cabinet.
The lobby camera appeared.
A woman stood downstairs.
Mid-fifties.
Dark coat.
Gray-streaked hair.
She looked directly into the camera.
I knew her.
“Oh my God.”
Gabriel looked at me.
“You know her?”
“Dr. Evelyn Shaw.”
“Who?”
“My obstetrician.”
Gabriel stared at the monitor.
“Why is your OB at a secret apartment at one in the morning?”
“I have no idea.”
The buzzer rang again.
Then Dr. Shaw held something toward the camera.
A photograph.
Mine.
Under it, handwritten:
ELENA, YOUR BABY IS IN DANGER.
Every maternal instinct I possessed overruled caution.
“Let her up.”
Gabriel swore.
“Now.”
He buzzed her in.
Two minutes later, Dr. Shaw entered the apartment.
She looked terrified.
“Elena.”
“What happened?”
She looked at Gabriel.
“Who is he?”
“My brother.”
Her face changed.
“Gabriel DeLuca?”
Gabriel noticed.
“You know me?”
“I know your name.”
“From whom?”
Dr. Shaw ignored him and focused on me.
“When was the last time you took your prenatal vitamins?”
I blinked.
“What?”
“Your vitamins.”
“This morning.”
She closed her eyes.
“Stop taking them.”
My stomach turned.
“Why?”
“I received your blood results after your appointment last week.”
“You said they were normal.”
“The hospital version was normal.”
“What does that mean?”
She opened her bag and removed a folder.
“I run expanded toxicology panels on high-risk patients when something looks unusual. Your liver enzymes had shifted slightly.”
“High-risk? My pregnancy has been healthy.”
“Yes.”
“Then why did you run it?”
Dr. Shaw hesitated.
“Because your husband asked me to.”
Silence.
Gabriel’s face hardened.
“Adrian requested toxicology testing on his pregnant wife?”
“No. He asked that I monitor Elena for exposure to a specific compound.”
I felt sick.
“What compound?”
She handed me the report.
The name meant nothing to me.
“What is it?”
“A medication used in very controlled hospital settings. At low levels, repeated exposure can cause dizziness, blood-pressure instability, premature contractions, and fetal distress.”
I gripped the counter.
“Was it in my blood?”
“Yes.”
Gabriel swore softly.
“How much?”
“Trace amounts. Not enough to cause immediate harm.”
My mind raced backward.
The headaches.
The occasional dizziness.
The nausea that had returned after my sixth month.
I had blamed pregnancy.
“Where would I get it?”
Dr. Shaw looked at me.
“That’s why I asked about your vitamins.”
My knees weakened.
“No.”
“Elena.”
“No.”
I opened my handbag.
The vitamin bottle was inside.
Dr. Shaw put on gloves.
She opened one capsule carefully.
Inside was powder.
Too white.
Too fine.
Not what I remembered.
She placed some into a testing strip from her bag.
We waited.
The strip changed color.
Dr. Shaw went pale.
Gabriel whispered, “Jesus.”
I could barely speak.
“Someone has been poisoning me?”
“We don’t know that.”
“Yes, we do.”
My voice rose.
“We absolutely know that.”
Dr. Shaw grabbed my arm.
“Your baby is moving?”
“Yes.”
“Any contractions?”
“No.”
“Bleeding?”
“No.”
“Then right now, both of you appear stable. But you need monitoring.”
“No hospitals.”
She stared.
“Excuse me?”
“Federal agents are at my house. Someone followed us with guns. No hospitals connected to my name.”
Gabriel nodded.
“She’s right.”
Dr. Shaw looked between us as though reconsidering every life decision that had led her into that apartment.
Then she said something worse.
“Adrian warned me this might happen.”
I froze.
“What?”
“Six weeks ago.”
Gabriel stepped closer.
“Explain.”
“He came to my office alone. He asked me to test Elena discreetly if I noticed any unusual symptoms. He said someone might try to harm her pregnancy.”
“Who?” I asked.
“He wouldn’t say.”
My anger faltered.
Adrian knew.
He had known someone might poison me.
“Why didn’t he tell me?”
“He said telling you would put you in greater danger.”
Gabriel gave a bitter laugh.
“How convenient.”
Dr. Shaw’s eyes flashed.
“I’m not defending him. I’m telling you what happened.”
I stared at the vitamin bottle.
“Did he know it was in these?”
“No. I called his private number tonight after confirming the compound in the sample from last week.”
“And?”
“He didn’t answer.”
“Then how did you find me?”
Her expression became strange.
“I didn’t.”
“What do you mean?”
“Someone sent me this address.”
The apartment became very quiet.
“Who?”
“Unknown number.”
Gabriel and I exchanged a look.
Dr. Shaw pulled out her phone.
The message read:
ELENA ROMANO IS AT 814 WEST HURON, APARTMENT 5C.
BRING HER ORIGINAL BLOODWORK.
DO NOT CONTACT ADRIAN.
Beneath it:
IF YOU WANT HER CHILD TO LIVE, GO NOW.
My blood ran cold.
Someone knew where we were.
Someone knew about the poisoning.
Someone knew Adrian had tried to protect me.
And someone wanted me to believe Gabriel was dangerous.
A knock sounded at the door.
Three slow knocks.
Gabriel picked up his gun again.
Dr. Shaw whispered, “Are you expecting someone?”
“No.”
The knock came again.
Then a man’s voice.
“Elena.”
I knew that voice.
Adrian.
Every nerve in my body lit up.
Gabriel moved beside the door.
“Don’t open it.”
Adrian spoke again.
“I know Gabriel is there.”
Gabriel’s jaw tightened.
“Of course he does.”
I approached the door.
“Elena,” Adrian said, “I’m alone.”
“Why should I believe you?”
“Because if I wanted the door opened by force, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”
Still arrogant.
Still Adrian.
Strangely, that reassured me.
Gabriel whispered, “He could have been followed.”
“So could Dr. Shaw.”
Adrian heard her name.
“Evelyn is there?”
Dr. Shaw stared.
“Yes,” I said.
“Good. Then she told you.”
My anger returned.
“You knew someone was poisoning me.”
“Yes.”
“You didn’t tell me.”
“I was trying to find out who.”
“You let me keep taking the vitamins.”
“No.”
I stared at the door.
“What?”
“The bottle in your bathroom was replaced four days ago with clean capsules.”
I pulled out the bottle.
“This bottle?”
Silence.
Then Adrian said, “No.”
My heartbeat accelerated.
“This was in my handbag.”
“Elena, listen to me. Do not take anything from your bag. Food. Water. Medication. Nothing.”
Gabriel’s expression sharpened.
“How did the poisoned bottle get there?”
“I don’t know.”
“Very useful.”
Adrian ignored him.
“Elena, I need to see the note from your coat.”
My blood froze.
“How do you know about that?”
“Because I wrote it.”
Gabriel went still.
“You wrote ‘Run from Gabriel’?”
“Yes.”
I looked at my brother.
Then back at the door.
“Why?”
Adrian answered immediately.
“Because Gabriel isn’t your brother.”
The room seemed to lose air.
Gabriel actually laughed.
Not because it was funny.
Because the accusation was insane.
“Open the door,” he said. “I’d like to hear this one in person.”
Adrian’s voice turned deadly.
“Don’t, Elena.”
Gabriel stared at me.
“You know me.”
Did I?
Three years.
No contact.
A mother’s warning.
A hidden apartment.
A story too complicated to verify.
My hand hovered near the lock.
Then I looked at Gabriel.
“What was the name of the horse I broke my wrist falling from when I was twelve?”
He blinked.
“What?”
“Answer me.”
“Pepper.”
“Wrong.”
His face changed.
My pulse stopped.
Gabriel whispered, “Elena—”
“My horse’s name was Midnight.”
“No. Midnight was yours when you were fourteen. Pepper was the pony you fell from at Uncle Carlo’s.”
Memory slammed into me.
He was right.
I had forgotten.
Adrian spoke through the door.
“He knows your childhood because we trained him to.”
Gabriel’s face turned white with rage.
“Open the door.”
I did.
Gabriel cursed.
Adrian stood alone in the hallway.
No jacket.
No tie.
Blood streaked the side of his face.
His white shirt was torn at the shoulder.
He looked like he had fought his way out of his own house.
His eyes immediately found me.
Then my stomach.
“Are you hurt?”
“No.”
Relief crossed his face.
Real relief.
Then he saw the vitamin bottle on the table.
His expression became murderous.
“That isn’t the bottle I replaced.”
“I know.”
Gabriel aimed his weapon.
“Start explaining.”
Adrian looked at him.
“You first.”
“I’m Gabriel DeLuca.”
“No.”
Adrian reached slowly into his pocket.
Gabriel raised the gun higher.
“Careful.”
Adrian removed a photograph and placed it on the floor.
Then he kicked it toward me.
I picked it up.
It showed a body lying beside a river.
Male.
Young.
Badly decomposed.
On the back was a date.
Three years ago.
And a forensic report number.
Adrian looked directly at me.
“The real Gabriel DeLuca died the week your brother disappeared.”
I stared at the man across the room.
The man who had picked me up.
The man who knew my childhood.
The man my mother had warned me not to trust.
He slowly lowered the gun.
May you like
And then he said something neither Adrian nor I expected.
“He’s telling the truth.”
