Family Consequence

Family Consequence

Some ties bind, Others choke

Cordelia Prescott

To you, dear reader—

Thank you for stepping into the shadows of this story, for daring to uncover the secrets hidden within these pages. May you find pieces of yourself in the mysteries, the strength in the characters, and the courage to face even the darkest truths.

This journey belongs to you as much as it does to those who live within these words. Thank you for bringing them to life.

With gratitude,

Cordelia Prescott

Every family has its ghosts; some just refuse to stay buried.

Cordelia Prescott

Contents

Title Page

Dedication

Epigraph

Preface

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

Chapter 45

Chapter 46

Chapter 47

Chapter 48

Chapter 49

Chapter 50

Chapter 51

Chapter 52

Chapter 53

Chapter 54

Chapter 55

Preface

I never expected the truth to haunt me. Growing up, I believed that family was everything-a bond unbreakable, a refuge from the world. But as I have learned, even the strongest ties can twist into chains, and the people you trust the most can be strangers in disguise. Now, standing on the edge of what I thought I knew, I can feel the weight of secrets pressing down, demanding to be revealed.

I thought I could handle it, that I could uncover the truth without losing myself. But nothing prepares you for betrayal woven into the very fabric of your life. Nothing prepares you for the reality that even family can be an illusion.

Chapter 1

I sat in the café, fingers wrapped around a mug of coffee, its warmth a faint reassurance against the chill spreading through my chest. I wasn’t sure if it was the draft from the door or the fact that David was late. Typical. Years, and he still hadn’t changed that. My brother—a stranger now—whose absence I had long since accepted, was suddenly back, just like that, stirring up dust and memories I thought I’d let settle.

Then he walked in, sweeping his gaze over the room until he found me. I saw his eyes flicker, his mouth tightening almost imperceptibly before he broke into a smile that seemed just a shade too bright. As he approached, I forced myself to stay seated, to wait, to not reveal anything more than the casual interest one might have for an old acquaintance.

He slid into the seat across from me with a sigh, shrugging off his coat as if shedding a burden. Emily, he said, leaning forward, his voice warm. It’s good to see you.

I searched his face, finding traces of the boy I remembered beneath the man who sat before me, yet there was something else—a sharper edge, a flicker in his eyes that seemed to calculate rather than connect. Long time, David, I replied, my tone cool, almost clipped.

He chuckled, a soft, careful sound. I know. I should’ve reached out sooner.

Should’ve. The word echoed, settling uneasily between us. He continued, leaning closer, his voice dropping just enough to feel intimate, conspiratorial. I heard about your work. I always knew you’d make a name for yourself.

I nodded, unsure if it was praise or prelude to something else. It’s kept me busy.

Busy enough that you don’t visit anymore?

The question slipped in like a blade, not quite a jab, but close enough to leave a scratch. I met his gaze, noting the faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth—a familiar expression that once had felt like kinship but now held an unsettling quality. Things have changed, I said simply.

Have they? He leaned back, drumming his fingers on the table as if weighing my response. Or are we still dancing around the same old shadows?

Shadows. The word lingered, heavy with unsaid things. I sipped my coffee, letting the warmth anchor me. Why now, David? After all these years?

His smile faded, and for a brief moment, something raw flickered in his eyes, quickly smoothed over as he leaned forward again, hands folded. Because, he said, his voice barely more than a murmur, I wanted to make things right. Or at least…try.

There it was—the first hint of vulnerability, a crack in the polished facade. But I knew my brother. Vulnerability wasn’t something he offered freely. It was a lure, a thread he dangled, waiting to see if I’d tug.

And what’s changed, exactly? I asked, keeping my voice level. You left, David. For years. Without a word.

He winced, a carefully measured reaction, as if rehearsed. I know. But, Emily, I had my reasons.

Reasons you never cared to share, I shot back, a flicker of anger slipping through my restraint. He noticed; I could see it in the faint satisfaction that glimmered in his eyes before he masked it.

Would it have mattered? he asked, tilting his head, studying me as though I were a puzzle. Or would you have just seen me as…well, the way you see me now?

There was something almost playful in his tone, a challenge embedded in the question. I felt a knot tighten in my stomach. And how do I see you, David?

He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. Like a stranger. Or worse, an enemy.

I looked away, unsettled by how easily he had framed my thoughts. Was that what he wanted? To pull me into a confrontation, to expose the resentment I hadn’t even fully acknowledged? I forced myself to meet his gaze, refusing to let him draw me into his game. I don’t know you well enough anymore to consider you either.

His smile softened, a flicker of something I could almost believe was regret. Maybe, he said slowly, we can change that.

We fell into silence, the hum of the café filling the space between us. It should have felt normal, familiar even, but there was an undercurrent, a sense of something just beneath the surface, waiting to break through.

He watched me, his gaze uncomfortably direct. Emily, I heard about your investigation.

I felt my spine stiffen, my fingers tightening around the mug. It’s just work.

Work that involves Dad?

There it was, the line drawn, the unspoken challenge laid bare. I could see the gleam in his eyes, a sharpness that wasn’t entirely curious, as if he were testing the depth of my resolve. Why do you care?

He leaned in, lowering his voice to a murmur that barely reached above the clatter of cups and murmurs around us. Because…if you keep digging, you’re going to find things you won’t like. Things that…could hurt you.

His words landed with the weight of a warning, cold and deliberate. I held his gaze, searching for any sign of deception, any crack in his mask, but he remained infuriatingly calm, almost too calm. Are you saying that as my brother, I asked, keeping my voice steady, or as someone with a stake in this?

A flicker, brief and nearly imperceptible, crossed his face—a moment of hesitation, as if he hadn’t expected the question. Maybe both, he said finally, his voice barely a whisper.

The silence stretched, taut and heavy, until he cleared his throat, breaking the spell. Look, all I’m saying is…Dad’s not the only one you’re up against. There are others. People who…don’t like loose threads.

Loose threads. The words echoed, stirring a faint memory, something buried, almost forgotten. I tried to catch hold of it, to pull it from the recesses of my mind, but it slipped away, leaving a hollow unease. You’re talking in circles, David.

He shrugged, too casual. Maybe I am. But you’ve always been smart, Emily. I’m sure you can piece it together.

Piece it together. The phrase lingered, unsettling in its simplicity, as if he were laying out clues for a game only he knew the rules to. And why are you telling me this now?

He looked down, his fingers tracing the edge of his coffee cup, a small, almost hesitant gesture that felt strangely out of place. Because I don’t want to see you hurt, he said, his voice so soft it was almost inaudible. Not again.

Again. The word hung in the air, an invisible thread pulling at something old, something I hadn’t let myself remember in years. I looked away, the memories flickering at the edge of my mind, half-formed, like shadows.

Is that why you’re here? I asked, my voice barely steady. To protect me?

He met my gaze, his eyes dark and unreadable. Maybe I’m here to protect us both.

The answer was evasive, a dance around the truth, and I felt a flare of frustration. I wanted to shake him, to pull the truth from his guarded expression, to force him to drop the mask, even just for a moment. But I held back, letting the silence stretch.

Emily, he said finally, his voice low, almost pleading, just…be careful.

Of what?

A faint smile touched his lips, a flicker of amusement mixed with something darker. Of everything.

He reached across the table, his hand brushing mine, a fleeting touch that felt both familiar and alien, like a ghost of something long gone. You don’t have to trust me, he said, his voice a murmur, but maybe you should start listening.

I pulled my hand back, the warmth of his touch lingering like a brand. I’ll listen, I said quietly, but that doesn’t mean I’ll believe you.

His smile widened, the sharp edge returning to his gaze. That’s all I ask.

We sat there in silence, the weight of his words pressing down, filling the air between us with something thick and unspoken. There was a familiarity to it, a sense of déjà vu that tugged at my memory, but I couldn’t place it, couldn’t pull it into the light. All I knew was that David’s return felt like the beginning of something I couldn’t quite see—a path winding through shadows, leading to a destination I wasn’t sure I wanted to reach.

As he rose to leave, he paused, glancing back at me, his expression unreadable. Just…stay safe, Emily.

He left without another word, disappearing into the crowd, leaving me alone in the dim glow of the café, his warning echoing in my mind like the fading notes of a song I couldn’t remember the melody to.

And as I sat there, the weight of his words settled like a stone in my chest, a quiet, lingering dread that told me his return was not the end of something but the beginning.

Chapter 2

I sat alone in the dim glow of my office, the only sound the hum of my computer and the faint tap of my fingers on the keyboard. The documents lay before me, each line unraveling pieces of something bigger, something I wasn’t sure I wanted to understand. Numbers, names, contracts—simple on the surface, but woven together in ways that hinted at shadows I hadn’t expected.

A file opened on my screen, the last line of numbers and names that tied neatly back to him—George Mansfield, my father. The man whose power stretched farther than I could have ever imagined. The man I’d spent years trying to distance myself from, and now I was digging into the very empire he had built, pulling apart its threads one by one.

It was almost midnight, but the quiet, the isolation, kept me anchored. This was a different kind of darkness, a place where every word and every number seemed to carry a weight, a hidden truth that waited to reveal itself. I leaned forward, reading a particular entry again, my pulse quickening. Something about it didn’t feel right—a small detail, easily overlooked, but it stuck, nagging at the back of my mind.

I took a breath, tried to brush it off, but the unease remained, growing sharper. Maybe I was just tired. Or maybe this was exactly what I’d feared—a path leading straight into the heart of something far more dangerous than I’d anticipated.

A knock at the door pulled me from my thoughts. I looked up, my heart skipping a beat before I reminded myself it was just Michael. He entered quietly, his face a mask of concern as he closed the door behind him.

You’re still here, he murmured, his gaze drifting over the papers scattered across my desk. You should get some rest.

I can’t, I replied, forcing a smile. This… it doesn’t make sense. There’s too much that doesn’t fit.

He walked over, placing a hand on my shoulder, the warmth of his touch grounding, but somehow, it felt heavier than usual, as if it carried something more than comfort. Emily, he said softly, you’ve been at this for hours. Maybe you’re just…seeing things that aren’t there.

His words stung, not because he doubted me, but because a part of me feared he might be right. I shook my head, looking back at the screen. No, there’s something here. Something he doesn’t want anyone to find.

Michael sighed, his fingers brushing against mine as he leaned closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. And what if it’s dangerous?

I didn’t respond immediately, my gaze fixed on the encrypted document flashing on the screen. The symbols, the lines of code—they were familiar, but just out of reach, like a puzzle missing a final piece. I can’t stop now. Not when I’m so close.

Michael’s hand tightened around mine, his touch almost pleading. Emily, listen to me. Maybe… maybe you’re pushing too hard. It’s not worth risking your safety.

The concern in his voice was real, yet something about it felt too heavy, too insistent. I turned to him, studying his face, the way his jaw tightened, the faint lines around his eyes. He was worried—worried enough that his own emotions seemed to cloud his usual calm.

Michael, I murmured, what is it? What aren’t you telling me?

He hesitated, his gaze shifting away for a fraction of a second, but it was enough. The silence stretched, thick and uncomfortable, until he finally spoke, his tone guarded. There are people…connected to your father. People who don’t appreciate questions.

I felt a chill run through me, the weight of his words sinking in. So you think I should stop?

He met my gaze, his expression conflicted. I think…maybe you should consider the cost.

The cost. I’d spent years distancing myself from my father, building a life that wasn’t tainted by his influence. And now, here I was, unraveling secrets that could pull me right back into his world, a world I’d vowed to leave behind.

I glanced back at the screen, the lines of code flashing like a beacon, daring me to dig deeper. I can’t stop now, Michael. I need to know.

He sighed, releasing my hand and stepping back, his face a mask of resignation. Then at least… be careful.

I nodded, sensing the tension between us, an unspoken warning hanging in the air. He cared, but his worry felt heavier than that—almost as if he knew more than he was willing to say.

As he left, closing the door behind him, I turned back to the screen, my fingers hovering over the keyboard. The symbols, the names—they were like pieces of a puzzle, each one leading me closer to a truth I wasn’t sure I was ready to face.

I worked through the night, my eyes burning as I read line after line, my mind piecing together fragments of a story that felt like a nightmare unfolding in slow motion. The names weren’t just names—they were connections, ties to figures I’d only heard whispers about, people with power, influence, and reach that went far beyond my father.

And then, there it was—a line of text that made my heart stop. A name. Not one I recognized, but it sent a chill down my spine, a name that felt like a warning, a shadow stretching out from the past to pull me under.

I leaned back, my mind racing. This was bigger than I’d thought. Bigger than just my father, or his empire. It was a web, one that spanned countries, continents—a network of deals, bribes, and alliances that reached into places I couldn’t even begin to understand.

And somewhere in that web, I was tangled, caught in a trap I hadn’t even seen coming.

Morning crept through the window, a pale light breaking the darkness, but it did little to dispel the shadows clinging to my mind. I gathered the papers, stuffing them into a folder, my thoughts a chaotic blur. I couldn’t do this alone—not anymore. I needed Michael, needed his support, his insight.

But as I reached for my phone, a strange hesitation held me back. His words from last night echoed in my mind—about the cost, the danger, the people who didn’t want questions. And the way he’d looked at me, almost as if he pitied me.

I shook off the thought, dialing his number. He answered on the second ring, his voice tinged with a warmth that felt both familiar and distant.

Emily. Everything okay?

I… I need your help, I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper. I think I’m onto something, but I can’t do it alone.

There was a pause, a hesitation I could feel even through the phone. Are you sure? This could be…dangerous.

His caution was understandable, but it grated, a small ember of frustration flaring in my chest. Michael, please. I wouldn’t be asking if it wasn’t important.

He sighed, and I could almost picture him rubbing his temples, the way he always did when he was torn. Fine. But… promise me you’ll be careful. This isn’t just… some story.

I swallowed, nodding even though he couldn’t see me. I know. I’ll be careful.

We arranged to meet later that evening, and as I hung up, a sense of unease lingered, a quiet voice in the back of my mind whispering that maybe, just maybe, I was in over my head.

But I couldn’t stop now. Not when I was so close.

The café was crowded, but we found a table in the corner, away from prying eyes. Michael was tense, his gaze darting around the room as if expecting someone to be watching. I forced a smile, trying to break the tension, but it felt hollow.

So, he began, leaning forward, his voice low. What did you find?

I took a deep breath, the weight of the folder heavy in my lap. It’s… complicated. But it’s all connected. My father, his deals—there’s a network here, something bigger than I thought.

He listened, his expression growing darker with each word, and when I finished, he sat back, rubbing his temples. Emily… this is serious. You’re talking about people who won’t hesitate to protect their interests.

I nodded, feeling the gravity of his words sink in. I know. But I can’t turn back now. Not when I’m this close.

He looked at me, his gaze searching, almost as if he were trying to see something beyond the surface. Are you sure this is about justice? Or… are you trying to prove something?

His question caught me off guard, a flicker of doubt stirring in my chest. What do you mean?

He shrugged, his eyes narrowing. Just… sometimes, when you dig too deep, it’s easy to lose sight of why you started.

I stared at him, feeling a strange sense of betrayal. You think I’m doing this for myself?

He didn’t answer immediately, his gaze shifting to the people around us, as if searching for something he couldn’t quite name. I just don’t want you to get hurt. Not because of… pride.

His words stung, an accusation I hadn’t expected, and for a moment, I felt a surge of anger. But then, as I looked at him, the anger faded, replaced by a quiet, unspoken fear.

Michael, I said softly, if you’re not with me on this, then maybe…

He reached across the table, his hand covering mine, a touch that was both comforting and confining. I’m with you, Emily. I just… I want you to be safe.

I nodded, though a part of me felt the weight of his hand, the subtle pressure it held, as if he were trying to hold me back, to keep me from something he didn’t fully understand.

We sat in silence, the unspoken tension thick between us, and for the first time, I wondered if I could really trust him—or if his caution, his concern, was just another layer of the web I was caught in.

As we left the café, his hand lingered on my shoulder, a gentle restraint that felt almost possessive. I forced a smile, but inside, a quiet dread settled in, a sense that I was teetering on the edge of something I couldn’t escape.

And as the door closed behind us, I realized that no matter what lay ahead, I was already too deep to turn back.

Chapter 3

George Mansfield listened, fingers steepled, as his political ally across the table finished speaking. He held back a smile, feigning mild interest as though discussing mundane matters. In truth, the words were important—strategic even. But to show it would betray a vulnerability he had long since buried.

And your daughter, the ally continued, as though her name were nothing more than a point on a list, seems… determined. I trust you’re handling it.

George’s expression remained inscrutable, but his thoughts turned briefly to Emily. She had indeed become a minor inconvenience, stirring up matters she barely understood. But then, wasn’t that the folly of youth? He nodded, his voice calm, almost soothing. Yes, I’ll speak to her. She’s merely curious.

A subtle knock at the door. George’s assistant entered silently, placing an envelope on the table before bowing slightly and retreating. George’s eyes fell on the envelope, and for a split second, his gaze sharpened. Just a flicker, gone before anyone else noticed. The envelope bore a discreet symbol—a mark that sparked a faint recognition, though he kept his face impassive as he picked it up.

He opened it with the same practiced calm he applied to everything in his life. Inside was a photograph