I stared at Adrian, waiting for him to take it back.
He didn't.
"You were there?" My voice sounded painfully small. "The night my father died?"
Adrian swallowed. For the first time since I'd met him, he looked like a man who had no idea how to fight his way out of a situation.
"Yes."
I slapped him.
The sound echoed through the railway station.
Lucian stopped fighting. Even Marcus, still clutching his injured wrist, looked momentarily surprised.
Adrian didn't move. He accepted the blow without flinching, his eyes never leaving mine.
"You let me believe he died in a car accident," I whispered.
"I know."
"You let me spend six years wondering why I couldn't remember the last time I spoke to him."
"Elena—"
"Don't say my name!"
My throat burned. I hated the tears gathering in my eyes, hated that some foolish part of me still wanted him to reach for me.
"You knew how much I loved him."
"I did."
"And you lied to me."
His jaw tightened. "Yes."
I stepped backward.
"Why?"
Adrian looked down at his bloodstained hands. "Because I was seventeen, and I was a coward."
The admission silenced me.
He continued before I could speak.
"My father received a call from yours that night. They arranged to meet at an old warehouse outside the city. I followed my father because he'd been acting strangely for weeks. I thought he was hiding something from me."
"And?"
"When I arrived, your father was already there. Marcus and Victor were waiting for them."
Marcus suddenly laughed.
"Careful, Adrian. Tell her everything. Especially the part where you had a gun."
Adrian's eyes flashed with hatred.
"I had a gun because I was seventeen and stupid enough to think I could protect my father."
"What happened?" I demanded.
Adrian looked at me.
"Victor ordered your father to hand over the evidence. Your father refused. They started arguing. Then Marcus pulled his weapon."
My breath caught.
"I tried to stop him," Adrian continued. "I raised my gun and told him to back away. But Victor came up behind me and struck me across the head."
He touched the faint scar near his hairline.
"When I woke up, your father was lying on the floor. My father was gone. Marcus told me the police were coming and that if I said anything, they'd make sure you died next."
I shook my head, struggling to process his words.
"So you said nothing?"
"I was afraid."
"You're Adrian Moretti. Everyone is afraid of you!"
"Not then." His voice broke slightly. "Then I was just a boy who had watched his father disappear and couldn't save the man who'd trusted him."
The anger inside me collided with something worse: grief.
I wanted his story to be a lie. I wanted him to be the villain because hating him would be easier than understanding him.
But before I could respond, Marcus spoke.
"How touching. A tragic confession from a boy who conveniently forgot to mention one little detail."
Adrian turned toward him.
"Shut up."
Marcus ignored him.
"Your father wasn't killed because he refused to surrender the evidence, Elena. He was killed because he had already handed it to someone."
My heart began to pound.
"Who?"
Marcus smiled.
"Someone standing in this station."
I looked at Adrian, then Lucian, then Victor.
Marcus slowly raised his uninjured hand and pointed.
At Lucian.
Adrian went completely still.
"No," he said.
Lucian's face had lost all its color.
"Marcus, don't."
My stomach dropped.
Adrian turned toward his brother. "Tell me he's lying."
Lucian said nothing.
"Tell me!"
Lucian lowered his eyes.
And in that terrible silence, I realized the truth was about to become far more painful than any of us had imagined.
Because the man who had just risked his life to save us might have been the very person who had destroyed our families.
Then Lucian finally spoke.
"I didn't kill your father, Adrian."
He looked at me.
"But I was the reason he died."