We left the cabin that night under cover of darkness.
No headlights. No phones. No goodbyes.
James had a backup safehouse in a penthouse suite overlooking the Thames — one only his private attorney and head of security knew about. Or so he thought.
But I couldn't stop thinking about that message.
> "They found the cabin."
Someone close to us had sold us out.
Someone who knew where James had taken me.
Someone who used to protect me.
Ethan.
My adopted brother. My childhood hero.
The boy who made me laugh when I couldn't sleep.
The man who turned cold the moment I looked at someone else.
When we reached the penthouse, James collapsed onto the leather couch, shoulders heavy with frustration.
"I've locked down the estate," he muttered. "Moved funds offshore. Ordered a silent sweep of all my tech. Still… they're always one step ahead."
I walked to the window, staring at the city lights. Everything looked peaceful from up here.
Lies always do.
"What if it's Ethan?" I said softly.
James didn't move.
"I don't want to believe it," I continued, "but he's the only other person who knew where you might hide me."
James finally looked at me.
And then nodded. Slowly.
"I suspected it… but I didn't want to tell you."
"Why?"
"Because you loved him once. Not like you love me," he added quickly, "but you did. You trusted him. And I didn't want to take that from you too."
The pain in his voice made my heart twist.
He was protecting me again.
Even from the truth.
"I need to know," I whispered. "I need proof."
The next morning, I went alone.
To the Blake estate.
It felt like walking into a dream soaked in betrayal. The same halls where I once skipped beside Ethan… now felt cold. Foreign.
I found him in the study, sleeves rolled up, sipping from a whiskey glass far too early for the hour.
He looked up when I walked in. His face froze.
"You're alive," he said flatly.
"You sound disappointed."
"I'm not," he replied, standing. "But you're not exactly answering my calls, Amelia. And last I checked, you were running off with my best friend."
"Your best friend," I echoed, eyes hard. "Who risked everything to protect me. And unlike you, never sold me out."
Ethan's jaw twitched. "What are you talking about?"
"You told them where James took me. You told them about the cabin."
"I didn't—"
"Don't lie to me!"
I slammed the leather journal down on the desk. The pages spilled open.
"Read it. Go ahead. Read what your perfect parents did. Read what your 'adopted sister's' mother went through. And then explain to me how you could look me in the eye, knowing all of this."
Ethan stepped back like the journal burned.
"Amelia," he said slowly, "I didn't know what was in that journal. I swear. But yes… I told someone."
I felt my world lurch.
"Who?"
He looked away.
"My father."
Of course.
I laughed bitterly. "You always took his side. Even when you said you didn't."
"He said you were being manipulated," Ethan snapped. "That James had you chasing ghosts. That your 'real' mother abandoned you, and now you were letting James fill your head with lies."
My hands clenched.
"He lied to you, Ethan. My mother didn't abandon me. She was taken. And she died trying to protect me."
He ran a hand through his hair. "You don't know that for sure."
"I do. And now… you've put James and me both at risk."
There was silence.
Then Ethan said something so quiet I almost missed it.
"I didn't want to lose you to him."
My breath caught.
"You already did."
I turned and walked out, leaving the Blake house for the last time.
When I reached the car, my hands were trembling.
James was already waiting in the driver's seat.
"He admitted it," I said quietly.
James didn't ask for details. He didn't need to.
He simply reached over and took my hand.
"We're alone now," he said. "Truly alone."
"No," I replied, voice steady. "We have each other."