Chapter 4 - THE UNBROKEN PROMISE
By seven o'clock the following morning, the sun rose over the Pacific Ocean, casting pale golden light across the polished concrete walls of the Blackwood private estate in Malibu.
While Mara remained under strict guard at St. Jude’s Hospital, Damian had taken Eli back to the manor to change out of their ruined clothes.
The estate felt different now.
The suffocating silence that had hung over the halls for two years had been permanently broken.
Eli sat at the massive oak dining table in the sunroom, wearing a soft gray sweater and shorts. In front of him sat a plate of pancakes with strawberries—his favorite breakfast, which he hadn't touched in months.
Damian sat across from him, holding a silver coffee cup, watching his son like a man observing a miracle.
“Do you want more syrup, Eli?” Damian asked softly, keeping his voice light, terrified that if he raised it, the boy might retreat back into his shell.
Eli looked at the small silver pitcher, then looked up at his father.
“Yes, please,” Eli whispered.
Damian’s hand trembled slightly as he poured the syrup over the pancakes. It was such a mundane, normal interaction, yet to Damian, it was worth more than his entire net worth.
“Eli,” Damian began gently, placing the pitcher down. “Last night... at the party. You said something to me.”
Eli stopped holding his fork. His small shoulders tensed.
“You said the bad man came because of Mommy,” Damian continued, leaning forward, placing his hands flat on the table. “Can you tell me what you meant, son? Did you see someone the night Mommy’s car crashed?”
Eli’s eyes widened with sudden, acute fear. He dropped his fork onto the porcelain plate with a sharp clatter. He wrapped his arms around himself, his breathing quickening.
“Eli, hey,” Damian said instantly, standing up and moving to kneel beside his son’s chair. “It’s okay. You’re safe. Nobody is going to hurt you here.”
“The man with the star,” Eli whimpered, staring at the floor.
Damian’s eyebrows drew together. “The man with the star?”
“He... he pushed Mommy’s car,” Eli whispered, his voice trembling violently. “Mommy was crying. She was fighting with him in the dark room before we got in the car. He had a red star on his neck.”
Damian’s blood ran cold.
A red star tattoo on the neck.
That wasn't Leo Thornton. Leo was a weak, greedy coward, but he had no military training and no gang affiliations.
A red star tattoo was the signature mark of Vanguard Security—a elite private military contractor operating out of South America, frequently hired by international conglomerates for high-level corporate espionage and cleanups.
And two years ago, Eleanor had been investigating a massive offshore money-laundering operation involving several members of the Blackwood Foundation’s board of directors.
Damian had thought Eleanor was killed because of a mechanical failure.
Now he realized the truth. His wife had been murdered because she found something she wasn't supposed to see. And Eli hadn't gone silent because of the brain trauma from the crash—he had gone silent because he was terrified that if he talked, the man with the red star would come back to finish the job.
And last night, when Eli saw the gunman on the balcony, he realized the threat was still alive.
“Daddy?” Eli whispered, reaching out to touch Damian’s cheek. “Are you mad at me?”
Damian looked at his son, his eyes burning with fierce, protective love. He pulled the boy into a tight, warm hug, burying his face in Eli’s hair.
“Never, Eli,” Damian choked out. “I will never be mad at you. You were so brave, my brave little boy.”
“I want Mara,” Eli whispered against his shoulder. “I want to go see Mara.”
“We will,” Damian promised. “We’re going back to the hospital right now.”
At that moment, Damian’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He answered it while keeping one hand rested on Eli’s head.
“Speak,” Damian said.
Julian’s grim voice answered. “Boss, we’ve got a problem at the boathouse.”
“Did Leo talk?”
“Leo didn't get the chance,” Julian said quietly. “We found him ten minutes ago inside his apartment. He didn't leave the gala early because he had a headache, Damian. He left because someone executed him with a single shot to the back of the head.”
Damian’s grip on the phone tightened until his knuckles turned white.
“A professional cleanup,” Damian said flatly.
“Yeah,” Julian replied. “And there’s more. We ran a deep background check on Mara Bennett, just like you asked.”
Damian paused, his eyes narrowing. “And?”
“Her resume is fake, Damian.”
Damian felt the air leave his lungs. “What did you say?”
“Her references from Chicago don't exist,” Julian said, his tone grim. “The agency that placed her in your house was bought out by an anonymous shell company three months ago. Mara Bennett isn't a professional nanny from Illinois.”
Damian looked down at Eli, who was innocently tracing the pattern on his sweater.
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“Who is she, Julian?” Damian demanded softly.
“Her real name is Dr. Maya Vance,” Julian revealed. “She’s a former investigative researcher for the Department of Justice. And her elder sister... was Eleanor’s chief legal investigator who went missing two years ago.”
