Chapter 20
Im sorry,Damien, but the handwriting doesnt match.
I thought they would for sure. Ethan, on the other end of the line is silent as I run my free hand through my hair, ruffling it in great frustration.
I thought I actually had a clue who Andreas stalker was this time.
I compared the letters, but Brandons handwriting is different.
I understand.
As I listen to Ethan, I try to think about this situation. I remember the way the agent had been calling Andrea, until she had enough and finally turned the phone off.
Brandon seems, for whatever reason, desperate to get her back. A desperation that, in my opinion, borders on obsession.
Andrea continues to justify it. She says that the two of them have been together for a long time, and are close friends. She says that Brandon had been the only person who cared for her, once.
But theres a catch here. Something doesnt add up.
Within the company contracts, I found several that had Brandons handwriting in them. I sent them to Ethan too, so he could check them against the handwriting on the letters so we could see if it was Brandon.
Dont worry, Damien. Well find the author.
I know you will.
Looking up, I see Andrea, who is strolling along the lakeshore. Her slight figure is outlined by the colors of the afternoon. She’s wearing a white dress with tights underneath and a cream sweater on top. Chocolate and copper hair floats in the air behind her.
She looks beautiful, and it fills me with peace to know that I’ve been the one to bring her this calm.
Two days ago, we met at my mansion in the Hamptons, and luckily she seems to be slowly returning to her old self. Now that she’s away from the world, away from its hustle and bustle, and focused only on music and our love, I can see her being reborn.
But there are shadows still looming in the distance for us, and I must take care of them before they catch up with us.
There is one other matter I would like to ask you to take care of, I say to Ethan.
Anything, my friend immediately replies.
Andreas mother. Her name is Carly Kingsley.
Alright. What about her?
Shes been harassing Andrea. She keeps calling and asking her for money. Large amounts. Andrea has been overwhelmed by this. I need you to look into the woman, and if you can, find out who told her that her daughter is a millionaire now.
Okay. Ill take care of it, Ethan promises.
I appreciate it.
After a moment, I hang up the call, and I notice that Andrea is coming back home.
I immediately turn up the volume on the background music. A piano piece by Yiruma, the South Korean pianist, which strikes me as fitting the moment.
Andrea enters the house and finds me in the kitchen, making dinner preparations. She breathes in and dances toward me as the notes from Kiss the Rain drift through the kitchen.
What are you preparing for dinner tonight, Chef Ramsay? she asks, sitting down on one of the stools beside the island.
Her face rests comfortably between her palms and she looks up at me with clear, clean blue eyes like the surface of the lake. The smile is evident in her face.
Well have Steak Florentine for dinner today, I promise while I start to season the meat.
Oh, that sounds delectable.
Its one of the representative Tuscan dishes, I tell her.
Your grandmother used to prepare it for you?
I ask.
My nonna used to serve it with potatoes and porcini mushrooms, I say.
Well, that sounds delicious. Andrea gives me a smile, and then stands up from the island. Do you mind if I go take a bath while I wait for dinner?
Not at all.
She rounds the counter and over to me. Her lips catch mine as she deposits a soft kiss on the corner of my mouth, before she dances away upstairs.
I watch her leave and, for a while I amuse myself with the dinner preparations, not thinking about anything else and enjoying the momentary calm.
After seasoning the meat, I grab the ingredients for dinner and head to the backyard so I can prepare dinner on the grill.
And then I see something strange. Someone who shouldnt be here.
My first impression of the man on the other side of the glass wall is vague. For a moment, I think maybe one of the security guards has gone off his route for some reason. But then I see the face with the familiar, hysterical expression, and those comically crooked glasses perched on the bridge of his nose, and I understand who this is.
I leave dinner on the counter, and slowly walk out of the house toward the patio, locking the door behind me.
Brandon, what are you doing here?
As I slowly walk down the steps, I notice that this man doesnt look entirely in his right mind. His suit of gray is wrinkled, and his glasses are nearly falling off his face, more crooked than they should be. His hands wont stop shaking.
He ignores my question, and instead looks around. He seems slightly absent for a reason I can’t place.
Must be nice growing up in a place like this, he mutters.
It wasnt. Answer my question, I command.
He ignores me again. A strained smile tugs over his lips.
Rich kid problems. It sure was hard for you to cry on a yacht in the Mediterranean Sea for your troubles. No hunger, no cold. No need.
I stay silent on my end, waiting for him to continue.
Thats why you dont understand her, you know? But I do. We have similar stories. Abusive fathers and absent mothers.
A lot of people have been through things like that, I argue. But that doesnt bind you to her.”
It binds me a lot more than you think, Brandon states in a cold tone, and then I see it.
The gun dangling from his right hand.
I look down to his feet next, trying to connect the dots. His shoes have little dark stains on them that I had mistaken for mud at first, but that could very well be blood.
I put all the pieces together inside my head, and then I say. Youre ambidextrous, arent you?
Brandon chuckles. Youve been slow to find out, he says.
But that doesnt make sense. An ambidextrous person writes the same way with either hand.
Not always. Not if you train your hands to write differently. She needs me and I need her.
Obsessed.The word spins around inside my head.
She doesnt know.
Of course she doesnt, Brandon states bluntly.
His right hand raises to point the gun directly at my chest, but I remain calm.
Andrea is safe, I repeat to myself. No matter how hard he tries, he wont be able to get inside the house.
I’m the only one exposed here.
All this time, its been you.
I didnt want to do it, but I had to scare her, Brandon begins to tremble. In a nervous gesture, he reaches to his face and adjusts glasses, then scratches the bald spot beginning to form on the side of his face. She wouldn’t give up. She kept noticing men who weren’t going to do her any good.
She was fixating on others, and not you, I realize.
Can you believe it? Brandon bursts out laughing. She prefers guys like you. A scumbag who doesnt know her or understand her. She always wants the bad boys, instead of looking to me, who has always taken care of her.
Youre like a father to her. You know that.
I dont want to be her father. Ill show her that I can be something more than that.
Is that why you sent the letters?
He nods.
At first they were just statements of affection, but then...then they started to be something else. I told you. I needed to keep her scared. Make sure she stayed away from guys like you.
But your plan went wrong somewhere along the line.
I’m about to correct my mistakes. Brandon loads the gun.
Why are you telling me all this now?
Because youre going to die anyway.
Without hesitation, Brandon points the gun at my chest, and then everything happens dizzyingly fast.
Darkness clouds my senses and I feel nothing.
In a blur of sensations and impressions, everything disappears.
Only darkness remains.