Chapter 13 - Brother and SisterEthan wanted to hate her cleanly.
That would have been easier.
But hatred became difficult when the person across from you still knew how you took your coffee.
Nia noticed the paper cup beside him.
“No sugar.”
He looked at her.
“You remember.”
“I remember everything about you.”
“Except that I wanted to live.”
She flinched.
Good, Ethan thought.
Then hated himself for thinking it.
Nia folded her hands.
“You deserve answers.”
“I deserve a sister who didn’t cut my rope.”
“Yes.”
“You keep agreeing.”
“Would you rather I defend myself?”
“No.”
“I’m trying not to.”
Ethan leaned back.
“Why?”
Nia answered without hesitation.
“Because I wanted what you had.”
“Control?”
“Yes.”
“You were willing to kill me for voting shares.”
“At the end, yes.”
“At the end?”
“It didn’t start there.”
Ethan laughed sharply.
“Please don’t give me the slow journey toward attempted murder.”
“You asked why.”
“So tell me.”
Nia stared through the reinforced glass window.
“When Mom got sick, I was twenty-three.”
“I know.”
“You were eighteen.”
“I know.”
“Dad told me you couldn’t handle it.”
Ethan said nothing.
“He asked me to fly home every weekend while you stayed at school.”
“I offered to come home.”
“Dad told you not to.”
“Yes.”
“He told me you refused.”
Ethan’s face changed.
“What?”
Nia looked at him.
“He said you were too busy.”
“That’s not true.”
“I know that now.”
Silence.
“He told me you chose spring break in Florida while Mom was hospitalized.”
Ethan stood so quickly the chair scraped.
“I was in Florida because Dad told me she was stable.”
“She wasn’t.”
“I called.”
“He kept your calls short.”
Ethan stared.
Nia continued.
“He made me believe I was the only child willing to carry the family.”
“Why would he do that?”
“Because responsibility made me useful.”
Ethan sat slowly.
“And protection made me dependent.”
Nia nodded.
Their father had divided them long before percentages ever did.
Nia continued.
“When I joined Blake Meridian, Dad gave me disasters. Failed projects. Litigation. Layoffs. You got developments with ribbon cuttings.”
“I didn’t choose that.”
“I know.”
“You hated me anyway.”
“Yes.”
The honesty hurt more than accusation.
“Then Marcus came along?”
“He told me I was the real heir.”
“And you loved hearing it.”
“Yes.”
“He stole from the company.”
“I helped him without understanding what I was helping.”
“You signed transfers.”
“I did.”
“So maybe Dad was right not to trust you.”
Nia looked at him.
“Maybe.”
Ethan had expected an argument.
Instead he saw exhaustion.
She continued.
“The worst part is that by the time Marcus suggested your death, I didn’t need convincing that you were my enemy. Dad had built that story. Marcus just gave it an ending.”
“You still chose the ending.”
“Yes.”
They sat in silence.
Finally Ethan asked about the ledger.
Nia explained what she remembered.
A black book.
Handwritten entries.
Initials.
Amounts.
City projects.
Marcus had photographed several pages before Victor discovered the breach.
Victor later claimed the ledger recorded legal lobbying expenses.
Marcus claimed it proved bribery.
Nia never saw enough to know.
“Why does Marcus still have it?”
“Because Dad tried to buy it back.”
“How much?”
“Ten million.”
Ethan stared.
“Did he pay?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Marcus wanted something else.”
“What?”
Nia’s face tightened.
“A path back into the company.”
That changed everything.
Marcus’s motive was not merely money.
He wanted access.
Control.
Legitimacy.
Victor refused.
Nia became the path.
“You were his way back in.”
“Yes.”
“And if I died, you became controlling shareholder.”
“Yes.”
“You appoint him.”
“Yes.”
“Then he can bury old transactions, restore his access and leverage the company.”
“Yes.”
Ethan leaned forward.
“You weren’t the end of his plan.”
“No.”
“You were the door.”
Nia’s eyes filled.
“Yes.”
Before Ethan left, Nia called his name.
He stopped.
“On the mountain,” she said, “after the rope broke, when you called me…”
Ethan turned.
“I heard how you said my name.”
“What about it?”
“You sounded like you did when you were little.”
His jaw tightened.
Nia continued.
“You used to call for me when you were scared.”
“Don’t.”
“I know.”
“Don’t turn that into something sentimental.”
“I’m not.”
She looked down.
“I want you to know that was the moment I understood what I had become.”
Ethan opened the door.
“Then why didn’t you save me?”
Nia raised her eyes.
There was no answer that could help either of them.
Ethan left.
Outside, Detective Medina waited.
“We got a warrant for Marcus’s financial records.”
“And?”
“He bought a storage unit under an alias.”
“Where?”
“Denver.”
“Did you search it?”
“An hour ago.”
Ethan held his breath.
Medina showed him a photograph.
A black leather ledger sat inside an evidence box.
“We found Victor’s book.”
Ethan stared at it.
Medina’s expression was not relieved.
“What?”
She handed him a second image.
A ledger page.
Dates.
Dollar amounts.
Initials.
One name written in full.
NIA BLAKE.
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