Jackson's POV
The moment Lyle or my mother's gaze moved away, I let go of Belinda. The forced affection felt like a violation of the honest rage I harbored, but it was a crucial tactical maneuver. I could not give my family a reason to question the lockdown, or my relationship. If they suspected tension, they would push, and I couldn't risk the entire lie collapsing.
My anger, however, was a constant burn, fueled by my fear. Every time I looked at her, I saw the beautiful, foolish woman who had risked her life and our child's life because she thought I was too broken to be her partner. My public affection was a lock, a chain of control to keep her safe and close. My private coldness was a defense mechanism. I couldn't allow myself to touch her with genuine warmth, because if I did, the dam would break. I would confess my terror about the pregnancy and beg her to terminate it to save herself.
I had to be the commander, the cold controller, until the family was gone and the network was neutralised. The affectionate boyfriend was the best lie I had to keep my fierce Love…alive. The fear of losing her and the baby was a weight so immense, it was easier to feel fury than terror.
That evening, after a stilted, tense dinner where I maintained the performance of the devoted partner, I finally got Lyle alone in my private office. I offered him a drink, but he shook his head, looking pale and deeply troubled.
"Jackson," Lyle began, his voice rough. "I know you think this was a gas leak, but I was at the station. They're trying to keep a lid on it, but the structural damage... it was too precise. I think Dad was murdered."
I maintained my façade, nodding slowly. "That's why I brought you here, Lyle. To ensure your safety and Mom's. We can worry about the rest later."
Lyle walked over to the floor-to-ceiling window overlooking the dark Bay, his posture defeated. He turned back, and his face was wet with tears.
"It's not just Dad, Jackson," he whispered, his voice catching. "It's Sarah. My wife. She... she went there."
He collapsed into a chair, his shoulders shaking.
"The day the house blew up, she went to tell Dad that... she was pregnant. She wanted him to promise to stay away because she sensed a energy from him she didn't like, to guarantee the baby's safety if anything happened to him. She just wanted to protect our child."
My blood ran cold. The sheer, devastating irony…Belinda executing a strike to protect my family, inadvertently killing my sister-in-law and nephew or niece…was a gut punch that nearly made me drop my glass.
"She died, Jackson," Lyle sobbed, burying his face in his hands. "Sarah and the baby. They were in that house because of him."
The cold, numbing horror of the collateral damage…my damage…sent a wave of sickening guilt through me. I walked over, placing a hand on my brother's shoulder, maintaining the lie.
"Lyle," I said, my voice heavy with a lie I had to maintain. "I am so sorry. We'll get through this. You and Mom are safe here. That's all that matters now."
One Week Time Lapse
Lyle the ticking time bomb:
The week that followed was a masterpiece of lethal deception. Lyle remained on the compound, outwardly a distraught, grieving brother, but inwardly a ticking time bomb.
Lyle, however, was not the naive, grieving brother he appeared to be. He was quiet, observant, and deadly. He knew Jackson's usual routines, and the Phase Omega lockdown…the frantic security, the constant presence of armed guards like Ronda…was a terrifying deviation from the norm.
• The Pregnancy: Lyle quickly noticed the inconsistencies in Belinda's behavior. He remembered her boundless energy from the previous visit…now, she was overly quick to sit, and her hand often drifted to her lower abdomen. He noticed her aversion to his mother's perfume and her insistence on only drinking the green smoothie. By day three, Lyle was certain: Belinda was pregnant. The news hit him like another death. Jackson, the reckless older brother, was getting the heir Lyle had just lost. Lyle's grief morphed into a searing, jealous rage…he wanted to destroy the perfect life he couldn't have.
• The Assassination Knowledge: Lyle was a disgruntled asset of the General's secondary network. He had been feeding intel to the General for months, furious at Jackson's refusal to involve him in the "tech business." Lyle knew the structural failure of the manor was too precise to be a coincidence. He had received a secure transmission from his General contact—just a few hours after the blast—confirming the strike was a retaliation from Jackson's side. Lyle put the pieces together: Belinda was the commander, and she had killed Sarah accidentally while saving her own child.
• Jackson's Double Life: The final, crushing realization came when Lyle witnessed a late-night comms debrief between Jackson, Rosline, and Ronda. Lyle listened through a hidden vent as Jackson spoke of "lethal protocol" and "Phase Omega." The truth was clear: his brother was not just a tech CEO. He was a warlord, and he had been lying to him.
By the end of the week, Lyle was a deeply compromised man. He was mourning his wife and child, secretly working with Jackson's enemy, and planning the quiet, agonising destruction of the one person Jackson loved above all else: the pregnant woman who had killed his family.
Belinda's POV
It's a beautiful morning and the breakfast table was a masterpiece of domestic deceit. Eleanor spoke quietly with Rosline about gardening, while Ronda and Tyrone maintained a silent, watchful perimeter. Jackson sat beside me, his thigh pressed against mine…public affection masking private ice. The cold distance he kept behind the scenes had already fractured my heart, but the atmosphere was about to get worse.
"It's good to have a simple meal," Lyle sighed, stirring his coffee. He looked utterly devastated, his eyes perpetually rimmed with red. "It's all so surreal. Dad... and Sarah."
My blood ran cold. I kept my expression neutral, focusing on a piece of toast. I thought I had weathered this storm already.
"It was a terrible accident, Lyle," Eleanor murmured, taking his hand.
Lyle shook his head, his gaze distant. "It wasn't just Dad, Mom. You know, I kept asking myself why Sarah would go to the house that morning specifically. She wasn't supposed to be there."
I swallowed, the toast turning to ash in my mouth. Lola made sure. Lola confirmed no collateral.
Lyle looked directly at me then, his eyes burning with a raw, agonizing sorrow that felt deeply personal. "She was going to tell Dad that she was pregnant. She wanted to make peace. She wanted to secure the future of our family."
The room tilted. I froze, my hand lifting instinctively to my own stomach, which felt suddenly empty and vulnerable. Sarah and the baby. My execution, my surgical strike to protect Jackson's future, had killed his brother's wife and child.
I gripped the edge of the table, my strategic composure dissolving into sick, paralysing horror. I shot a quick, frantic glance at Jackson, who remained utterly still, his face a mask of stone. He already knew. He was waiting for my reaction.
Lyle misinterpreted my shock as sympathy. "She just wanted to protect our child," he repeated, his voice thick with tears. "And because of a faulty gas line, my whole world is gone."
I forced out a choked murmur. "Lyle, I... I am so sorry." The lie tasted like bile. My reckless, trusting decision…my trust in a single word from Lola…had resulted in the very collateral damage Jackson had tried to avoid. I had done the damage I feared I would do.