“I understand.” I said, my voice quiet but firm.
We shook hands, sealing the deal that would forever bind me to them, to their lies, to the darkness that now consumed Reaney Hall. And now, as I write this letter, I feel the weight of my sins pressing down on me, suffocating me. I’m sorry El. Sorry for everything. But, I had to protect the people I loved, even if it meant making a deal with the devil. And, when my time comes, I know I will pay for my sins. But until then, I can live in peace knowing that Noah is safe, that he will grow up loved, just as I promised you. I love you El. May you find some peace, my friend. You will forever be in my heart.
Love forever,
Eric Morgan
The room was quiet after Noah read the final lines of Eric’s letter. He sat still, his fingers loosely gripping the fragile pages, as though the diary itself might disappear if he let go. Riley sat next to him on the bed, staring at the floor in stunned silence. The weight of what they had just uncovered–Stephen and Lilian’s lies, El’s death, Eric’s guilt–hung thick in the air, leaving them both momentarily unable to speak.
Noah’s breath was shallow, and his blue eyes flickered with a mixture of hurt and confusion. “I can’t believe they did this.” He muttered, his voice cracking slightly. He closed the diary with trembling hands, his mind racing with a flood of questions that now seemed impossible to answer. “All these years…”
Riley shifted against Noah, not fully comprehending everything they had just read. He glanced at Noah, the unease and turmoil obvious in his expression. “You’re parents…they covered it up.” He said softly, almost as if saying it aloud made it feel even more real.
Noah swallowed hard. “And Eric, he helped them.” Riley could hear the bitterness in Noah’s tone, the disappointment. Yes, Eric had helped them but did he really have a choice? Stephen Reaney was a powerful man and who knows how far he would have gone to protect his secret. Maybe Eric’s decisions in the after math weren’t the greatest but at least he didn’t do what he did for selfish reasons. He was trying to protect his family, and Noah. So he made some mistakes. Everyone does. It’s human nature. The important thing was that his heart was in the right place.
“My father was young.” Riley said, trying to defend Eric and his actions. “I can’t even imagine how he must have been feeling at the time. I know what he did wasn’t right but I don’t blame him. He was scared and probably felt like he had no other options.”
Noah frowned. “How is blackmail even an option?”
Riley shrugged. “I don’t know what he was thinking and we don’t know the whole story, only what’s written in these pages.”
Noah turned the diary over in his hands, as if searching for more answers, more pieces of the puzzle that were still missing. “You’re right.” Noah said. “There’s more we don’t know, like how my father’s and your parent’s deaths tie into this.”
Riley nodded then gently laid his hand over Noah’s, his fingers lightly brushing over Noah’s skin. “We may never find the truth though. Lilian’s the only one left who really knows what happened back then.”
Noah glanced toward the door, his expression hardening. “No.” He said, narrowing his eyes. “There’s someone else who knows what happened. Someone else who was there. Thomas.”
***
The mansion seemed colder, more imposing as they made their way to the farthest wing of the mansion, where Thomas’s apartment was located. The silence between them was heavy, punctuated only by the the echo of their footsteps against the marble floor. Noah’s grip tightened around the diary as they reached the door at the very end of the hallway, his knuckles white and his breath hitched with anticipation.
Noah knocked twice. The sound was firm, yet tentative, as if he was unsure whether he wanted the door to open or not. After a moment, Thomas answered, his face immediately betraying a mix of irritation and surprise when he saw Riley standing beside Noah. His lips pressed into a thin line, and his dark eyes flashed with clear contempt as they briefly flickered over Riley, but when he turned his gaze to Noah, his expression softened, shifting to one of weariness.
“What is it, Noah?” Thomas asked, though his voice was strained. “I haven’t heard anything new from the hospital yet, if that’s why you’re here.”
Noah shook his head. “This isn’t about Lilian.” He said. “His voice was tight with emotion as he held up the worn, leather-bound diary. “We need to talk.”
The look on Thomas’s face was instant, his eyes narrowing slightly as they locked onto the book in Noah’s hand. A shadow passed over his features, a glimmer of something almost like fear–followed by resignation. His thin lips twitched in what could only be described as a grim understanding.
“So,” Thomas murmured, “you found Eleanor’s diary.” His shoulders slumped and for the first time since arriving at Reaney Hall, Riley saw the mans posture shift from strong and commanding to something more akin to an old man who had the weight of decades worth of worry and stress pressing down on him. He had the look of a man who had been waiting for this confrontation, for years.
Thomas held the door open wider, gesturing for them to enter. “I suppose I knew this day would come eventually.” He said with a heavy sigh. “It’s almost a relief really. I’m old and I’ve carried this burden for far too long.”
They stepped inside, the air in Thomas’s apartment immediately striking a contrast to the vast, elegant grandeur of the mansion outside. The living room was modest but tasteful–an eclectic blend of vintage furniture, bookshelves crammed with leather-bound volumes, and framed artwork that hinted at his sophistication. It had the distinct feel of a well-educated man, yet there was a certain masculine simplicity to it, giving the place an obvious bachelor’s touch. The leather arm chair, slightly worn at the edges, sat beside an old, well-used fireplace. A Persian rug covered the floor, adding warmth to the room, and the faint smell of polished wood mixed with the lingering scent of tea.
Riley looked around, his eyes falling on the little details: a globe sitting on a wooden desk near the window, classical music records neatly lined up in a corner, and a well-maintained bar cart stocked with expensive-looking liquors. It was the home of a man who valued tradition, and perhaps most of all, control.
Thomas cleared his throat, breaking the silence as he moved toward the small kitchen area. “I was just about to make myself a cup of tea. Would either of you care for a cup?”
Noah nodded, his eyes fixed on the old man. “Yes, please. That sounds nice.”
Riley, still glancing around the room added a distracted, “sure.”
Thomas disappeared into the kitchen and soon after, the soft clinking of tea cups and boiling water filled the air, but the tension remained as thick as ever. Noah sat down on the sofa, still gripping the diary while Riley paced the room slowly, nerves jumbled and his thoughts racing.
When Thomas returned, he carried a silver tray with a tea pot, milk, sugar, and three delicate cups. that he carefully sat on the coffee table. He poured the tea, moving with the practiced elegance of someone who had been serving others for decades. Riley watched him with a kind of sad admiration, and he wondered, had this always been Thomas’s role in life, a servant? Probably so. That’s how their society worked. Alphas led, betas served, and omegas…well omegas were omegas. If they were lucky, they would spend their lives as little more than slaves, forced to do menial jobs that even a beta wouldn’t touch. The unlucky ones were cast away and forgotten. Street trash, thieves, and whores. The unwanted members of a society who had no pity, no remorse, and no mercy.