CHAPTER 192

CHAPTER 192
The cabin smelled of old wood and damp earth, the kind of place that had absorbed too many secrets to ever feel clean. Light filtered through the narrow windows in thin, uneven slashes, dust floating lazily in the air like it had nowhere else to be. Outside, the forest stood thick and unmoving, a wall of green that swallowed sound and time alike.

Adrian shoved them forward the moment the door closed behind them.

“Sit,” he ordered.

The gun never left his hand.

Before either of them could react, he forced Vincent down into one of the wooden chairs near the table, then pulled Amelia roughly beside him. Metal clicked sharply in the quiet cabin as Adrian snapped cuffs around Vincent’s wrist, then Amelia’s, the short chain between them cold and unforgiving. He dragged the chain downward and secured it to a thick iron ring bolted into the floor beside the table.

The final clink echoed like a verdict.

“Don’t test me,” Adrian said flatly, the gun lifting just slightly as he stepped back. “This isn’t a discussion.”

Amelia’s breath shook as she tested the chain instinctively. It didn’t give. Vincent placed his hand lightly over hers, grounding her without drawing attention.

Adrian began pacing the length of the room, boots thudding against the floorboards, the gun hanging loose in his hand but never lowered. His movements were restless, circular, like a man trapped inside his own head. On the small table near the window lay a stack of documents, crisp and official, their corners weighed down by a paperweight shaped like a polished stone.

Vincent sat too composed for a man chained to the floor, his wrists resting calmly on his knees. Amelia stayed close to him, the chain between them a constant reminder that any movement either of them made affected the other.

“You think you’re smarter than me,” Adrian said suddenly, stopping in front of Vincent. His eyes were bloodshot, feverish. “You think because you sit there like some saint, that you’ve already won.”

Vincent lifted his gaze slowly, careful not to move too fast. “This isn’t about winning anymore, Adrian.”

Adrian laughed, a sharp, fractured sound. “Everything is about winning.”

He snatched the documents from the table and shoved them toward Vincent, the gun following the motion like an extension of his arm. “Sign them.”

Vincent didn’t move.

The barrel tilted, aiming more precisely.

“Sign them,” Adrian repeated, louder now. “Transfer the company to me. Officially. Publicly. I want it done in your handwriting.”

Vincent glanced at the papers briefly, then back up at him. “Even if I sign those, it won’t change anything,” he said evenly. “The entire country knows you abducted us. You murdered a man. There is no future where you walk back into that company as its leader.”

Adrian’s face twisted. “You don’t know that.”

“I do,” Vincent replied. “If you ever leave this cabin, the only place you’re going is prison.”

The gun lifted higher.

“You don’t get to talk to me like that,” Adrian snarled. “Not after what you did to my father.”

Amelia stiffened beside Vincent, the chain tightening as her body tensed.

Vincent frowned slightly. “I didn’t do anything to your father.”

Adrian’s laugh this time was low and unhinged. “There you go again. Pretending you don’t know.”

He resumed pacing, the gun swinging loosely but dangerously with each step. “You and him started that company together. Partners. Equals. And then suddenly, one day, it was yours. Just yours. And he was gone.”

Vincent’s voice remained steady. “Your father left the company long before his accident.”

“That’s what you tell people,” Adrian shot back. “That’s the story you’ve sold for years. But I know the truth.”

“You believe a version of events that isn’t real,” Vincent said.

Adrian stopped pacing abruptly and turned, gun snapping up, trained directly on Vincent’s chest. “You stole it,” he said. “You stole his company. You stole his legacy. And then you killed him.”

The words landed like a blow.

Amelia’s breath caught painfully.

“That accident,” Adrian continued, voice rising, “was no accident. You arranged it. Just like you arranged everything else. You erased him, and you built your empire on his grave.”

Vincent stared at him, genuine disbelief crossing his face. “That’s not true.”

“Oh, it’s true,” Adrian insisted. “I’ve lived with it my whole life. I’ve watched you smile on television. I’ve watched you build everything that was supposed to be his.”

He reached for a small camera on the shelf, never lowering the gun, and set it on the table facing Vincent. The chain rattled faintly as Amelia shifted.

“I don’t want excuses,” Adrian said. “I want the truth.”

He pressed record. A small red light blinked on.

“Say it,” Adrian demanded. “Say you stole the company from my father. Say you destroyed him.”

Vincent didn’t flinch. “I won’t confess to something I didn’t do.”

Adrian slammed his fist into the table, the gun discharging a dry click as his finger tightened reflexively. Amelia gasped.

“Liar!”

Before Vincent could speak again, Amelia surged forward.

The chain snapped taut, biting into her wrist as she rose. Adrian reacted instantly, gun swinging toward her, eyes blazing.

“Sit down,” he warned.

Amelia froze, chest heaving, then slowly lowered herself back beside Vincent, her pulse racing.

“Stop,” she cried, voice breaking through the tension. “Just stop.”

She turned toward Vincent, anger and fear colliding. “Why won’t you just tell him the truth?”

Vincent stared at her, stunned. “Amelia…”

“If this company really belonged to his father,” she said through tears, “if you really took it from him, is it worth our lives to keep denying it? If all he wants is the truth, why won’t you just say it?”

Adrian smiled faintly, gun still trained on them. “Even your own daughter knows you’re lying.”

Vincent’s voice dropped. “Amelia, listen to me.”

“No,” she snapped. “I’ve listened my whole life. I know about the letters. I know you hide things. I know you lie when you think it’s ‘for the greater good.’”

Her voice cracked as she gestured weakly with her cuffed hand. “I wouldn’t put it past you if what he’s saying turns out to be true.”

Vincent’s face drained of color.

“And honestly,” Amelia continued, the words tumbling out now, “considering you were the one who caused my mom’s death…”

The cabin went dead silent.

Vincent turned to her slowly, horror washing over his features. “What did you just say?”

Adrian stared between them, something dark and eager sharpening in his eyes.

“You think I don’t know?” Amelia whispered. “I’ve lived with questions my whole life. I’ve heard the whispers. You just… moved on.”

Vincent rose partway from his chair, the chain pulling tight. “Your mother’s death was an accident,” he said hoarsely. “I had nothing to do with it.”

“You expect me to believe that?” Amelia whispered.

“I swear it,” Vincent said. “On everything I have left.”

The red light on the camera blinked steadily.

Outside, the forest remained silent.

Inside the cabin, three people stood bound - by chains, by guns, by lies believed and truths denied -  with no escape, no certainty, and no way to know which confession would cost them their lives.