Isla's POV
I stare at the USB drive until my eyes blur.
Security footage from the night of the accident. Damien didn't kill your parents. But he knows who did.
My hands shake as I grab Harper's laptop and plug in the drive.
A single video file appears. No label, no date. Just a timestamp: 11:47 PM, six years ago.
The night my parents died.
I click play.
The footage is grainy, black and white, from what looks like a parking garage security camera. I recognize the location immediately—the underground garage at Hartley Tech headquarters.
My father's car sits in his reserved spot.
Then a figure appears, dressed in dark clothes, face hidden by a hood. They move quickly to the car, crouch by the front wheel, and start working on something.
The brake lines.
I watch, frozen, as this person methodically cuts through the cables. It takes less than three minutes. Then they stand, look directly at the camera, and pull back their hood.
My heart stops.
It's not Damien.
It's Julian.
My uncle. My father's own brother.
The video continues. Julian walks away, calm and unhurried. Then another figure enters the frame, running.
Damien.
Even in the grainy footage, I recognize his height, his movements. He goes straight to the car, crouches where Julian was, and examines the damage.
His body language screams panic.
He pulls out his phone, makes a call. I can't hear what he's saying, but I can see his face when he looks up at the camera.
Horror. Absolute horror.
He knows what's been done. And he knows it's too late to stop it.
The timestamp shows 11:53 PM. My parents' accident happened at 12:17 AM, just twenty-four minutes later.
The video ends.
I sit there, staring at the blank screen, my entire world reorganizing itself.
Damien didn't kill my parents.
Julian did.
And Damien's been protecting him—or maybe protecting me from the truth—for six years.
Why?
My phone rings, making me jump. Unknown number again.
This time, I answer. Who is this?
Did you watch the video? A woman's voice, distorted electronically.
Yes. Who are you? How did you get this footage?
That doesn't matter. What matters is what you do now. A pause. Damien Blackwood has been in jail for two days, confessing to a crime he didn't commit. Meanwhile, the real murderer is filing for guardianship of you. Do you understand what I'm saying?
Julian killed them.
Yes. And if you don't act fast, he'll get control of you and your inheritance. Everything your parents built. Everything Damien's been protecting.
Why didn't Damien just show this video to the police?
The voice laughs, bitter and cold. Because Julian threatened to kill you too. He told Damien that if he ever exposed the truth, you'd have an 'accident' just like your parents. So Damien made a choice—take the fall himself and keep you safe, or tell the truth and watch you die.
My vision blurs with tears. He sacrificed himself for me?
He loves you. In his twisted, obsessive way, he loves you more than anything. The voice softens slightly. But love won't save him from prison. Only you can do that.
How?
Take the video to the police. Show them the truth. But be careful—Julian has connections, money, power. He'll destroy you if he gets the chance.
Who are you? Why are you helping me?
Silence. Then: Let's just say I'm someone who wants justice. And someone who knows what it's like to be controlled by a man like Julian Cross.
The call ends.
I sit there, holding the laptop, my mind racing.
Everything I thought I knew was a lie. Damien didn't murder my parents—he tried to save them. And he's been protecting me from the real killer ever since.
By taking the blame himself.
I need to see him. Now.
I grab my coat and Harper's car keys, leaving a note on the counter: Had to run out. Will explain later.
The drive to the jail takes forty minutes. I barely remember it, my mind replaying that video over and over.
Julian's face when he pulled back his hood. Damien's panic when he found the damage.
At the jail, I tell the guard I need to see Damien Blackwood.
He's not accepting visitors.
I'm Isla Hartley. His ward. Please. It's an emergency.
The guard makes a call, talks in low tones, then nods. You have fifteen minutes.
They lead me through security, down sterile hallways, into a visitation room. Damien sits on the other side of the glass partition, wearing an orange jumpsuit that makes him look wrong, diminished.
When he sees me, his face goes white. What are you doing here? I told Elias—
I know the truth. I cut him off, pressing my hand against the glass. I saw the video. I know Julian killed them, not you.
Damien closes his eyes like I just stabbed him. Isla, you shouldn't have—
Why didn't you tell me? Why are you confessing to something you didn't do?
Because it's safer this way.
Safer for who?
For you! His eyes snap open, blazing with emotion. Julian threatened to kill you if I ever exposed him. So I made a deal—I take the fall for the accident, and he leaves you alone. It was the only way to keep you safe.
That's insane! You're going to prison for murder!
Better me than you dead. His voice cracks. Don't you understand? I'd rather spend the rest of my life in prison knowing you're alive and safe than be free and watch you die. You're the only good thing I've ever had, Isla. The only person who ever looked at me like I was worth something.
Tears stream down my face. You can't do this. I won't let you.
You don't have a choice.
Yes, I do. I have the video. I can take it to the police right now, prove Julian did it—
No! Damien slams his hand on the counter. If you expose Julian, he'll kill you. He's desperate and cornered and capable of anything. Promise me you won't show that video to anyone. Promise me!
I can't promise that.
Isla, please. I'm begging you. Let me rot in here. Let me pay for all the ways I've failed you. Just stay alive.
Before I can respond, the guard taps the glass. Time's up.
Wait! I press both hands against the glass. Damien, I—
I love you, he says quietly. That's the one thing I need you to know. Everything else was manipulation and control and sickness. But loving you? That was real. That was the only honest thing I've ever done.
The guard opens the door. Miss, you need to leave.
I stand there, watching them lead Damien away, my heart breaking into pieces.
In the parking lot, I sit in Harper's car, staring at the laptop.
The video that could save him.
Or get me killed.
My phone buzzes. Text from Julian: Heard you visited your guardian in jail. How sweet. We should talk about your future now that he's out of the picture. Dinner tonight? I'm staying at the Blackwood mansion. Thought it was time I moved into my brother's old home.
Ice floods my veins.
Julian's already taking over. Moving into the mansion like he owns it.
Like he owns me.
Another text, from the unknown number: He's laying his trap. If you go to that dinner, he'll kill you. But if you don't go, he'll know you suspect him. Your move, Isla. Choose wisely.
I look at the USB drive in my hand.
At my phone showing Julian's message.
At the jail where Damien's sacrificing everything to keep me safe.
I have two choices: expose Julian and risk everything, or stay silent and let Damien rot in prison.
But maybe there's a third option.
Maybe I can beat Julian at his own game.
I pull out my phone and text back: Dinner sounds lovely, Uncle Julian. 7 PM? I have so much I want to discuss about my parents and my future.
His response is immediate: Perfect. I'll have the chef prepare something special. See you tonight, niece.
I start the car, my hands steady now.
If Julian wants to play games, I'll play.
But this time, I'm not the scared little girl he thinks I am.
I'm Damien Blackwood's student.
And I learned from the best.