Chapter 2 - Shadows of the Past
"Answer me, Rebecca!" Ethan’s voice cracked through the quiet garden, carrying a raw, desperate authority that made even the housekeeper flinch. "That name... no one has uttered it since the night the fire took everything! How does a six-year-old boy in Chicago know about Gabriel Vance?"
Rebecca sank slowly onto the edge of the stone patio bench, her hands trembling as she buried her face in her palms. The heavy silence between them stretched, broken only by the distant hum of traffic on Lake Shore Drive. Sammy stood quietly beside Ethan’s wheelchair, his hand still resting lightly on the armrest, his eyes wide and steady.
"He didn't read it in a book, Mr. Caldwell," Rebecca whispered, her voice choked with tears. "And I didn't tell him."
Ethan stared at her, his chest heaving. Gabriel Vance. His best friend, his college roommate, his shadow during the golden years of their youth before Ethan’s father forced him down the ruthless path of corporate dominance. Gabriel had vanished twenty years ago, swallowed by a horrific, unsolved warehouse fire on the industrial docks of South Chicago—a fire that had also consumed the small recording studio where Gabriel poured his soul into music, leaving Ethan behind to inherit a cold, hollow empire.
"Then who told him?" Ethan demanded, leaning forward in his chair, his knuckles turning white against the chrome rims. "Explain it to me right now, or pack your bags and get out of my sight!"
"I am Gabriel's sister, Mr. Caldwell," Rebecca whispered, finally looking up.
The world seemed to tilt on its axis. Ethan caught his breath, his mind reeling backward through two decades of wealth, guilt, and isolation. He looked closely at Rebecca—really looked at her—and through the lines of stress and years of hard labor, he suddenly saw the haunting, familiar structure of Gabriel’s jawline, the same deep amber undertone in the eyes.
"Gabriel... didn't have a sister," Ethan stammered, though even as he said it, he knew he was lying to himself. Gabriel had protected his family fiercely, keeping them shielded from the cutthroat social circles Ethan inhabited.
"A half-sister," Rebecca corrected bitterly. "Ten years younger than him. When he died in that fire, our mother broke. She lost her home, her mind, and eventually her life, all while you were busy signing your first million-dollar acquisition. You forgot about him within a year, Mr. Caldwell. You traded his memory for a seat on Forbes."
Ethan felt as though he had been struck in the chest with a sledgehammer. Every harsh word he had ever spoken to Rebecca over the last three years—every arrogant demand, every cold glare—came back to haunt him. She hadn't taken the job out of desperation; she had infiltrated his life for a reason.
"Why are you here?" Ethan whispered, the fight completely draining out of him. "If you hate me... if you blame me for his death... why work for me?"
Sammy stepped closer, his small voice breaking the heavy tension. "Because Mommy said the man who lives in this big, lonely house is trapped in a fire much bigger than the one Uncle Gabriel was in. And only you could put it out."
Ethan looked down at the boy, then back at Rebecca. The anger that usually shielded his broken heart was gone, replaced by a yawning, terrifying void.
May you like
"He left something behind the night he died," Rebecca said softly, standing up and wiping her eyes. "Something he told me to give to you if our paths ever crossed. I thought I would take it to my grave. But watching you break... watching you sit here surrounded by billions of dollars while your soul rots away... I knew it was time."
She turned, walking swiftly toward the servant quarters at the back of the estate, leaving Ethan and Sammy alone under the pale autumn sky.
