Adeline had stopped pretending she was fine.
For days, she had barely eaten. Her mornings began with a heaviness in her chest, and her nights were spent staring at the ceiling, replaying conversations she wished she had never heard.
Oliver was dead.
Her uncle was somehow connected to a murder investigation.
And her husband was hiding something.
The worst part was that she no longer knew which of the people around her she could trust.
She sat on the edge of the bed, still wearing the clothes she had slept in. Her phone lay beside her, its screen dark. She had received several messages from Rose, but she had not found the strength to respond.
A soft knock came at the door.
"Adeline?"
Dwayne.
She closed her eyes.
"Come in."
He entered, already dressed. His gaze moved from her untouched breakfast to her face.
"You haven't eaten."
"I'm not hungry."
"You said that yesterday."
"And the day before," she replied flatly.
Dwayne sighed and approached her. "You can't keep doing this to yourself."
She looked up at him. "Doing what?"
"Punishing yourself."
A humourless smile crossed her face.
"Is that what you think I'm doing?"
"Adeline—"
"I am trying to understand why my uncle's death is suddenly connected to a series of murders. I'm trying to understand why Oliver is dead. And I'm trying to understand why every time I ask you a question, you look at me as though I'm about to uncover something you have spent years hiding."
Dwayne's expression hardened.
"That's not fair."
"Neither is any of this."
He sat beside her, reaching for her hand. She allowed him to hold it, but there was no warmth in her response.
"I am doing everything I can to protect you," he said.
"Then perhaps you should start by telling me the truth."
For a moment, he said nothing.
Then his phone vibrated.
He glanced at the screen, and something changed in his expression.
"I have to take this."
"Of course you do."
He stood and walked towards the adjoining room.
Adeline watched him disappear.
She wondered how many more conversations she would have to overhear before she finally understood the man she had married.
The London Chronicle's temporary investigation office was unusually quiet when Adeline arrived.
She had considered staying home. In fact, she had nearly turned back twice on her way there.
But she needed something to occupy her mind.
Something that did not involve Dwayne, Oliver, or the growing suspicion surrounding her uncle.
She had barely settled at her desk when a familiar voice interrupted her.
"Well, well. Look who's finally decided to return to work."
Adeline looked up.
Malcom stood in the doorway, one shoulder resting against the frame. He was dressed in a charcoal-grey suit, with a folder tucked beneath his arm. His expression carried the sort of amusement that rarely meant anything pleasant.
"Good morning to you too," she replied.
"Is it?" He walked into the office. "I wasn't sure you'd remember what a good morning looked like."
Adeline turned back to her computer.
Malcom dropped the folder on the desk opposite hers.
"I've been reading the reports."
"Congratulations."
"Interesting case."
She ignored him.
He pulled out a chair and sat down.
"Although, I must admit, I never expected our journalist to become part of the story herself."
Adeline's fingers stopped moving.
"What are you talking about?"
He gave her a knowing look.
"Don't tell me you haven't heard the latest office gossip. The reporter assigned to investigate a murder series is now a topic of discussion in the very same case."
"I'm not in the mood, Malcom."
"Clearly."
He opened his folder.
"Let's see. Dead family member. Dead best man. A husband who appears to have a habit of withholding information. And a brother-in-law who seems remarkably interested in your safety."
Adeline's face tightened.
"Be careful."
"Touchy subject?"
"You're crossing a line."
"Am I? Because from where I'm sitting, you're the one who has become a potential liability to this investigation."
She stood.
"I didn't ask for any of this."
"No, but you are involved in it now. And that is precisely the problem."
Malcom closed the folder.
"I have a responsibility to the headquarters. If your personal involvement compromises the investigation, I will report it. And I will recommend that you be withdrawn from the assignment."
Adeline stared at him.
"You wouldn't."
"Try me."
He rose, straightened his jacket and looked at her for a moment.
"Get some rest, Adeline. You look terrible."
Then he walked out.
She sank slowly into her chair.
She had once believed work would be the one place where she could escape the chaos of her personal life.
Apparently, even that was no longer possible.
Dwayne found Jarvis in the study, standing beside the window with his phone in his hand.
"We need to talk."
Jarvis did not turn immediately.
"About what?"
"London."
That got his attention.
Jarvis faced him.
"You're going back?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
Dwayne walked towards the desk and placed a set of documents inside a leather folder.
"There's something I need to take care of."
Jarvis looked at the documents.
"Something you haven't told the police about?"
Dwayne gave him a warning look.
"Watch your tone."
"Then give me a reason to speak differently."
Dwayne closed the folder.
"Some of the information connected to Oliver's death is still in London. There are records, correspondence and other details that could be misunderstood if they fall into the wrong hands."
"Misunderstood?"
"You know exactly what I mean."
Jarvis studied his brother.
"You're going to London to make sure those details disappear."
"I'm going to make sure they don't become evidence against me."
The silence that followed was uncomfortable.
Jarvis lowered his voice.
"Do you understand how that sounds?"
"I understand that Oliver is dead, the police are asking questions, and Hawthorne is getting closer to something he doesn't understand."
"Perhaps he understands more than you think."
Dwayne stepped closer.
"Listen to me, Jarvis. I need you to keep an eye on Adeline while I'm gone. Don't let her speak to anyone about the things she's heard. Especially not Hawthorne."
Jarvis's jaw tightened.
"You cannot keep deciding what she is allowed to know."
"I'm her husband."
"And I'm your brother. That doesn't mean I have to agree with everything you do."
Dwayne looked away briefly.
"You're becoming emotional."
Jarvis laughed bitterly.
"That's rich coming from you."
For a moment, neither spoke.
Then Dwayne reached for his car keys.
"Just keep her safe."
Jarvis watched him leave.
He wanted to believe his brother was simply frightened.
He wanted to believe there was an explanation for everything.
But the more Dwayne tried to conceal, the more Jarvis wondered whether protecting him had become the same thing as protecting a murderer.
And he was beginning to understand that those two things might no longer be compatible.
A MOMENT OF WEAKNESS
Adeline was sitting alone in the garden when Jarvis found her.
She had been there for almost an hour, staring at the same patch of grass.
"You're going to catch a cold."
She barely looked up.
"I'll survive."
Jarvis pulled out the chair beside her.
"That's a very convincing answer."
She gave a small, tired smile.
It disappeared almost immediately.
He studied her face.
"You haven't been sleeping."
"I sleep."
"Closing your eyes for twenty minutes doesn't count."
"Have you started monitoring my sleep now?"
"Someone has to."
She looked away.
Jarvis leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.
"Adeline, talk to me."
"There's nothing to say."
"Then say nothing. Just don't sit here convincing yourself that you're alone."
Her eyes became glossy.
"I don't know what to believe anymore, Jarvis."
He turned towards her.
"About what?"
"Everything. My uncle. Oliver. Dwayne. Even myself." She swallowed. "I keep remembering things. Small things. Conversations I didn't understand at the time. And now they all seem important."
Jarvis reached for her hand.
"You're overwhelmed."
"I'm frightened."
The admission came out so quietly that it almost broke his heart.
He moved closer, taking both her hands in his.
"Look at me."
She did.
"You're not going to face this alone."
"How can you promise that?"
"Because I'm here."
For a few seconds, Adeline simply stared at him.
Then her composure crumbled.
She began to cry.
Jarvis immediately pulled her into his arms.
"Hey. Hey, it's all right."
She pressed her face against his chest, her fingers gripping his shirt. He held her tightly, one hand moving gently over her back.
He had imagined holding her countless times.
But never like this.
Never when she was hurting because of the secrets surrounding his brother.
He pulled back slightly and brushed a tear from her cheek.
"You're stronger than you think."
"I'm tired of being strong."
"I know."
His thumb lingered against her cheek.
She looked at him, and something in her expression made him forget, for one dangerous moment, that he was Dwayne's brother.
His gaze dropped to her lips.
Adeline did not immediately move away.
Jarvis leaned closer.
Then he stopped.
He could not do it.
Not while she was vulnerable. Not while she was still trying to understand her marriage. Not when he knew that one selfish decision could destroy whatever trust she had left in him.
He rested his forehead briefly against hers before pulling away.
"I'm sorry," he whispered.
Adeline frowned.
"For what?"
"Nothing."
She looked at him, confused, but he forced a small smile.
"Come on. Let's get you something to eat."
For the first time in days, she did not argue.
Jarvis stood and offered her his hand.
She took it.
And as he helped her up, he knew he was getting dangerously close to a line he might not always have the strength to resist.
MY DEAREST DEE
The London Chronicle office had nearly emptied by the time Adeline returned.
She had promised Jarvis she would eat something, and he had insisted on driving her to work himself. He had stayed until she assured him she would not be alone for long.
Now, however, she was alone.
Her desk was cluttered with investigation notes, printed photographs and several documents she had been reviewing before Malcom interrupted her.
She reached for her notebook.
Something white lay beneath it.
A folded envelope.
Adeline frowned.
She was certain it had not been there when she left.
There was no stamp, no address and no indication of who had delivered it.
Only three words written neatly across the front.
MY DEAREST DEE.
Her stomach tightened.
She glanced towards the office entrance.
Nobody.
She slowly opened the envelope.
Inside was a single sheet of cream-coloured paper. The handwriting was elegant, almost delicate.
She began to read.
My dearest Dee,
There are people who spend their entire lives searching for love. They chase it through crowded rooms, desperate conversations and meaningless encounters.
I never had to search.
I found you.
Perhaps you don't remember the first time I saw you. Perhaps you never noticed the way my world changed when you walked into a room. But I remember everything.
I remember your smile. The little crease between your brows when something troubles you. I remember the sound of your laughter, and I remember how it felt when that laughter wasn't meant for me.
You have no idea how deeply I have loved you, Dee.
Not the ordinary kind of love that fades when distance grows or circumstances change. Mine has survived silence, rejection, absence and every person who has stood between us.
I have loved you when you were happy. I have loved you when you were sad. I have loved you even when you gave your heart to someone who could never understand its value.
And now, look at you.
Your wife wants the truth from you at all cost. Your friends cannot protect you. Your family has left you with questions that even death cannot answer.
But I see you.
I see the sadness in your eyes. I see how tired you have become. I know you cry when nobody is watching.
I wish I could hold you every night until the fear disappears, too bad I'm the reason for those fears.
I wish I could take your hand and remind you that you were never meant to belong to a woman like her.
You may call my love madness. You may call it obsession. Perhaps it is both.
But I have never wanted anything in this world as much as I want you.
And I will not allow anyone to take you away from me.
Not again.
One day, my dearest Dee, you will understand that everything I have done has been because of you.
Until then, remember this:
I am closer than you think.
Forever yours,
The one who loves you most.
Adeline's fingers began to tremble.
She read the final lines again.
Not again.
What did that mean?
Had this person known the so called "Dee"before?
"this Dee, could it be Dwayne?"
How long had they been together?"
"is the murderer trying to give me a clue?"
"were they lovers?"
Adeline thought aloud with fear written on her face
She looked around the office, suddenly aware of every shadow and every closed door.
Then she noticed something else.
A small red mark beneath the signature.
It looked like a tiny heart.
But the centre had been pierced by a thin black line.
Adeline dropped the letter onto the desk.
Her breathing became uneven.
She grabbed her phone and called Jarvis.
He answered almost immediately.
"Adeline?"
"Jarvis…"
Her voice broke.
"What's wrong?"
"Someone has been here."
"What do you mean?"
"There's a letter on my desk."
A brief silence.
"Don't touch anything else. I'm coming."
"Jarvis, I think someone has been watching me."
"Listen to me. Lock the office door. Stay where you are. I'm on my way."
The call ended.
Adeline stared at the letter.
Her eyes returned to the first line.
My dearest Dee.
A strange feeling crept over her.
She had spent days being frightened of the secrets her husband was keeping.
But now, for the first time, she wondered whether the person she should fear most was someone who believed they loved him.
Across the street, a man sat inside a parked car.
The office lights were still on.
Through the glass, he could see Adeline standing beside her desk, holding her phone.
He smiled.
She had read it.
Every word.
He reached for the photograph lying on the passenger seat.
It was an old photograph of Adeline, taken long before her marriage to Dwayne.
His thumb moved slowly over her face.
"My beautiful Dee," he whispered.
"your wife is too shocked "
"I'm sorry but I love you more than you can ever imagine"
His phone vibrated.
A message appeared on the screen.
SHE HAS RECEIVED IT.
He typed his response.
GOOD.
Another message followed.
WHAT HAPPENS NOW?
His smile widened.
He looked through the window once more.
"Now," he murmured, "she begins to understand."
He placed the photograph back on the seat and started the engine.
As the car pulled away, his phone lit up again.
This time, it was a reminder he had written to himself months earlier.
MAKE HER REMEMBER.
He read it, smiled, and drove into the night.
THE JOURNEY TO LONDON
Dwayne's car moved steadily along the road towards London.
The leather folder rested on the passenger seat.
Inside were copies of old correspondence, a photograph of himself and his friends back in Blackthorn University and several documents connected to the night everything had gone wrong.
He had spent years keeping those things hidden.
Now Hawthorne was asking questions.
Oliver was dead.
And Adeline was beginning to remember conversations that should have remained forgotten.
Dwayne's phone rang.
"Have you left?" a male voice asked.
"Yes."
"Did you bring everything?"
"Most of it."
"Most of it isn't good enough."
Dwayne tightened his grip on the steering wheel.
"I know what I'm doing."
"Do you? Because people are dying, and we could be next. The police are getting closer."
"I said I know what I'm doing."
The voice lowered.
"Then make sure you don't leave anything behind."
The call ended.
Dwayne glanced at the folder.
He knew what he had to do when he reached London.
There were records that needed to disappear. Leads that could connect him to the murders. Details that Hawthorne must never discover.
But one thought continued to trouble him.
Adeline.
She was no longer asking questions out of curiosity.
She was beginning to suspect him.
And if she discovered what had happened to her uncle, Jonathan Brown, there might be no way to convince her that he had been protecting her.
His phone vibrated again.
A message from Jarvis.
Adeline received something disturbing at the office. Call me.
Dwayne's expression changed.
He immediately called his brother.
Jarvis answered.
"What's happened?"
"Someone left a letter on her desk."
"What kind of letter?"
"A personal one. Romantic. Obsessive. Whoever wrote it knows her."
Dwayne said nothing for a moment.
Then he asked, "Did she tell you what it said?"
"Enough to know that she's frightened."
"Get her home."
"I'm handling it."
"And Jarvis?"
"What?"
"Don't let her tell Hawthorne about it yet."
Jarvis's voice hardened.
"She's not a child, Dwayne."
"She's my wife."
"Then start treating her like someone who deserves the truth."
"you've been too emotional towards her Jav, mind your place" Dwayne said
Jarvis ended the call.
Dwayne stared at the phone.
For the first time that evening, he looked genuinely unsettled.
A familiar face was coming back to him
And if it was who he was suspecting, then his problem was far from being over