Page 21 of Liam (The Valeur Billionaires #4)

Chapter Twelve

LIAM

I push open the heavy doors of the family estate, a sense of foreboding settling in my gut like lead. The grand foyer, usually a welcoming sight, feels oppressive tonight. Shadows stretch long across the marble floors, distorting familiar shapes into ominous forms.

As I make my way to the study, the muffled voices of my siblings reach my ears. Their tones are hushed and urgent. Not the usual banter that normally precedes our family gatherings.

I pause outside the study door, straightening my tie and taking a deep breath. Whatever’s waiting on the other side, I need to face it with the composure expected of a Valeur. With one last steadying inhale, I push the door open.

The scene that greets me does nothing to quell my unease. Lucas paces by the fireplace, his usual easy-going demeanor replaced by coiled tension. Cora sits in an armchair, her fingers tapping an anxious rhythm on the armrest. Logan leans against the bookshelf, his face unreadable.

In the far corner of the room, Ryder stands like a silent sentinel. His imposing frame is motionless, but his eyes are alert, scanning the room. Why is he here?

And there, behind the imposing mahogany desk, sits our father.

The sight of him makes me falter mid-step.

He looks old. Worn. His shoulders, usually squared with the confidence of a man who bends the world to his will, are slumped.

His hands, I notice with a jolt, are shaking as he pours himself a drink.

“Liam,” he says, his voice gravelly. “Sit down. We were waiting for you.”

I take a seat next to Cora, who gives me a tight smile that doesn’t reach her eyes.

“What’s going on?” I ask, looking from one grim face to another. “Why the emergency meeting?”

Our father takes a long swig of his drink, then sets the glass down with a thud that seems to echo in the tense silence. “There’s something I need to tell you all. Something I should have told you years ago.”

In the flickering firelight, I catch a glimpse of something in my father’s eyes that stops me cold. It’s an emotion I’ve never seen there before, one I never thought I’d associate with Peter Valeur. Fear.

“I’m aware that you have heard things about your mother,” he begins, his voice soft. “About what happened to her. I realize now that I can’t keep this a secret any longer. You deserve the truth. The whole truth.”

The air in the room seems to thicken, making it hard to breathe. I exchange glances with my siblings, seeing my apprehension mirrored in their eyes.

Our father’s voice breaks as he begins, his usual commanding tone replaced by something raw and vulnerable. “Your mother... She was attacked on her way home one night. Assaulted. It was brutal.” The word hangs in the air, heavy and ugly.

Cora stiffens next to me. Our father continues, his eyes distant, lost in a painful memory.

“She didn’t want anyone to find out. She was.

.. God, she was so ashamed. Embarrassed.

Didn’t want to talk about it. As if it was somehow her fault.

I couldn’t even convince her to file a report.

” His voice cracks, and he takes a shuddering breath.

“I watched her fade away, day by day. The vibrant, joyful woman I married… She was gone. A shadow. Dead inside.”

Tears glisten in his eyes, and my own vision blurs. I’ve never seen our father cry before. It’s like watching a mountain crumble.

“I couldn’t stand it,” he whispers, his hands trembling as he grips his glass. “I couldn’t just stand by and watch her disappear. So I started digging. Investigating.”

His gaze hardens, a glimpse of the formidable man shining through the grief. “I had to do something. Anything to bring her back. To make it right.”

The pain in his voice is palpable, filling the room, seeping into our bones. Logan’s jaw is clenched tight, tears streaming down Cora’s cheeks, Lucas’s face a mask of shock and grief.

And I realize that we’re hearing not just about a crime, not just about a secret kept for years. We’re hearing about the moment that shaped our entire family, the invisible wound that’s been bleeding beneath the surface of our lives all this time.

“What I did next... It changed everything. And now, after all these years, I think it’s coming back to haunt us.”

The weight of unspoken implications hangs in the air, and I realize, with a certainty that chills me to my core, that our lives will never be the same after tonight.

Our father’s voice drops to a whisper, his eyes unfocused. He reaches for the crystal decanter, pouring himself another drink. The sound of liquid splashing into the glass seems loud in the tense silence.

“I found him. The man responsible. I tracked him to his home.” Dad swallows hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing. He takes a sip, wincing as the strong liquor burns his throat.

Lucas paces behind the couch, his fingers drumming an anxious rhythm against his thigh. Cora fidgets with a loose thread on her sleeve, unraveling it further with each passing second.

“I don’t know what I thought when I went there,” our father continues. “I wanted... I wanted him punished. To face justice for what he’d done to your mother.”

I shift in my seat, the leather creaking beneath me.

“Things escalated,” Dad says, his voice hoarse. He sets his glass down, the heavy crystal base thudding against the polished wood of the desk. “When I confronted him, he attacked me. It all happened so fast.”

Logan moves for the first time since our father started speaking. He walks to the window, drawing back the heavy curtain to peer out into the darkness. The faint glow of the outside lights illuminates his profile, casting half his face in shadow .

“I don’t know exactly how it happened,” our father says. His hands are shaking now, not just trembling but quaking. “One moment, we were shouting, the next, there was a struggle. He came at me, and I... I reacted.”

Cora stands, crossing to the sidebar. She pours herself a glass of water, the ice cubes clinking against the glass. She doesn’t drink it, just holds it, staring into the clear liquid as if it might hold some answers.

Our father looks up then, meeting each of our gazes. The pain and regret in his eyes is overwhelming. “When it was over, he was... He was dead. I’d killed him.”

The words hang in the air, heavy and final. Lucas stops his pacing, freezing mid-step. The thread Cora had been fidgeting with snaps.

I run my hands through my hair, tugging as if the physical sensation might ground me in this new, terrible reality.

“I never meant for it to happen,” our father says. He picks up a pen from his desk, turning it over and over in his hands. “But I couldn’t... I couldn’t let him walk away. Not after what he did to your mother. To our family.”

The ticking of the clock fills the heavy silence until Logan finally speaks, his voice hoarse as he asks, “What happened next?”

Our father’s gaze drops to the pen he’s still fidgeting with, rolling it between his fingers. “I called someone. An old friend who could make things disappear.”

Cora gasps.

“We made it look like he’d just gone,” our father continues, his voice hollow. “He was living alone, no job, no relatives. A criminal. It wasn’t hard to...” He trails off .

Bile rises in my throat. The idea that our family’s wealth and connections could erase a man’s existence is chilling.

Logan turns from the window, his face a mask of controlled emotion. “And no one ever questioned it?”

Our father shakes his head. “No. We were thorough.”

The way he says “thorough” makes my skin crawl. I’m about to ask more when Ryder clears his throat, stepping forward from his position in the corner.

“There’s more,” Ryder says, his deep voice cutting through the tension, and all eyes turn to him. “Mercer’s been investigating at my request. He’s uncovered some complications.”

Our father’s head snaps up. “What complications?”

Ryder takes a deep breath, his gaze sweeping over all of us before landing back on our father. “The man you dealt with. Dominic Martin. He had a son.”

Dad shakes his head. “There was no son. I would have known. We checked everything.”

Ryder steps closer, his expression grim. “It was out of wedlock, sir. The woman got pregnant and had the child in secret. The boy didn’t use the same last name as his father. Nobody knew he was connected.”

The room plunges into a silence so thick it feels like a physical presence. The only sound is the soft clink of ice in my father’s glass as his hand trembles. Our shared shock creates an unspoken bond.

“What’s his name?” I ask, my voice sounding distant.

Ryder turns to me, his gaze heavy. “Elias Nort. He took his mother’s surname.”

Our father slumps in his chair, looking older than I’ve ever seen him. “Nort,” he repeats .

The realization that this unknown threat has a name, an identity, makes everything feel much more real, more dangerous.

“Why do you think he’s related to the threats,” Lucas asks, his voice cutting through the tension, breaking the heavy silence. He turns to Ryder, his eyes narrowing. “To what happened to us? To me?”

Ryder shifts his weight, his usual stoic demeanor faltering. “It’s more of a concerning coincidence,” he admits. “When Zane started investigating Dominic Martin’s background, he stumbled upon the existence of Elias.”

“And?” Logan prompts, leaning forward.

Ryder’s frown deepens. “And when we tried to locate Elias, we discovered he’d vanished. Completely.”

“Vanished?” Cora echoes.

Ryder nods. “Elias Nort has disappeared from the face of the earth. No credit card transactions, no phone activity, no social media presence. It’s like he’s gone off the grid entirely.”

“When did this happen?” I ask, a knot forming in my stomach.

“As far as we can tell, about two years ago,” Ryder replies.

Our father leans forward, his face ashen. “So, he knows about what happened?”