Page 44 of False Heir

“Tristan?” Her voice pulled me back, and I caught the flicker of concern in her eyes. “You’re a million miles away. Talk to me.”

“Sorry,” I said, pushing away the unease that clung to me like a second skin. I forced a smile, though I knew it didn’t quite reach my eyes. “Just trying to make sense of it all.”

Her nod was curt, a silent acknowledgment of the turmoil that simmered beneath the surface of our task. We were two people caught in a web of secrets and lies, our relationship right then felt like the only thing more complex than the tangled history we were attempting to unravel.

As much as I wanted to bury myself in the work, to lose myself in the hunt for answers, all I could think about was the chilling fear of my father’s influence—the one thing I’d spent my life running from. Adriana was right; it might have already seeped into the very fabric of who I was.

“Let’s just keep looking,” I suggested, my voice barely above a whisper as I reached for another letter, desperate to find something, anything, that could lead us out of this darkness.

I glanced at her, admiring her resilience. She picked up a letter, her movements deliberate, eyes scanning the handwritten lines for any clue about who had attacked my family’s estate. This woman—sharp and unyielding—was slowly becoming my anchor in a storm I no longer understood.

“Tristan,” Adriana said, breaking the silence, “you think this means anything?” She pointed to a cryptic sentence–not because of its contents, because I couldn’t read the fucking handwriting–but before I could lean over to see, the door swung open.

“Look at you two, all cozy and domestic.” Kieran’s voice sliced through the tension like a knife. He strolled in, his lean form dressed casually in shorts and a long-sleeved white shirt that seemed almost too pristine for someone like him. His messy dark hair gave him a carefree look that belied the intensity of his gaze.

“Jesus, you’re so loud,” I said. “Don’t you have a headache?”

He shook his head. “The trick is to drink water before you go to sleep. C’mon, man. You taught me that.”

I scowled at him, rubbing my temples. He was right, of course, but that didn’t stop the wave of irritation I felt. “What do you want, Kieran?”

“I smelled breakfast,” he said. He shrugged nonchalantly, pulling out a chair and sitting across from us at the table. “Just thought I’d see how the little investigation was going.”

Adriana glanced at me, a mixture of annoyance and concern in her eyes. I could tell she wasn’t thrilled about Kieran barging into our makeshift war room, but he was part of this too.

Kieran leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. His gaze moved between us, his lips curving into a slight smirk. “Find anything juicy?”

Adriana shrugged. “Nothing we can make sense of.”

“Clearly, you’ve spent a lot of time together. Fucking, I presume?” His eyebrow arched in mock curiosity, but there was a hardness behind his words that couldn’t be ignored.

“Kieran,” I warned, my patience wearing thin. “Not now.”

“Easy, big brother,” he said, reaching for his cup of coffee. “Just calling it like I see it.”

Adriana shot me a sidelong glance, her expression unreadable. I knew she was skilled at maintaining her composure, but even she couldn’t hide the faint blush that crept up her cheeks at Kieran’s insinuation. “Does he ever stop?”

“It’s almost been thirty years and he hasn’t yet,” I said between gritted teeth.

“Are you going to help us or just sitting there making comments?” she challenged, her tone cool yet not unfriendly.

“Maybe a bit of both,” Kieran quipped. “So, what’s the deal with these letters?”

“We’re trying to find anything that might point to who’s responsible for the attack,” I explained, pushing aside the discomfort of his earlier remark. “It’s like looking for a needle in a haystack.”

“How’s this old box of random shit related to the attacks?” Kieran said.

“Because it’s not just ‘random shit’, Kieran,” Adriana retorted. “These letters are from people who had deep connections to our families. People who could have held longstanding grudges.”

Kieran shrugged, his gaze flicking between us before focussing on the scattered papers littering the table. “And you think this is going to lead you to our attacker? Seems like a long shot.”

“It was a longshot that we found this random box, and yet…” Adriana said, trailing off.

Kieran considered this. “Yes,” he said. “You’re right.”

“Who is ‘John’ anyway?” Kieran broke the silence, nodding toward a letter signed with the mysterious name. “Another ghost from the Callahan closet?”

Adriana glanced up, her forehead creased in concentration. “I don’t know much about him. He could be anyone.”

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