Chapter 55

Every muscle in my body pulses at his voice. Memories barrel into my mind. The butler wrapping me in a hug when I came back home from Mom’s funeral, completely distraught. Him fixing me a hot toddy whenever I’d gotten sick. Him making sure I didn’t forget to eat when I was obsessing over my latest artwork.

I don’t understand.

My heart clatters inside my chest like a runaway train, the sudden betrayal searing me. I hold Belle’s terrified gaze, which is welling with tears as she struggles against the ropes once more.

It’s okay , I mouth, giving her a curt nod.

Everything will be okay as long as she’s unharmed.

A calmness settles over me—it doesn’t matter what happens tonight as long as she escapes. That’s my only goal. The fear that has accompanied me throughout my life is now a beam of focused energy.

To do anything to get her out alive. I don’t care what happens to me.

“Morris,” I rasp, turning my body around, only to be met with a sharp jab of the gun at my back again.

“Don’t you think about it, son. Drop your gun.”

“No!” Belle cries. “Don’t do it, Maxwell.”

She turns toward Morris, her voice frantic. “You wanted me all along, right? You got me. Let him go. He treated you like his family!”

“It’s okay, Belle,” I reply, keeping my voice calm even though my pulse is rioting and my breathing is uneven. Raising my hands, I slowly set the gun to the wet soil and stand back up.

“What do you want with us, Morris? ”

Morris chuckles, the sound of his grandfatherly laughter now seeming sinister; so twisted I wonder how I had missed the darkness threaded in his voice all along. How could I have been so blind?

“What I want, you can’t give, Maxwell. Because you can’t bring back the dead!” he roars and gives me a surprisingly hard shove for an old man, sending me staggering a few steps toward Belle.

“Go. Tie up his hands and feet,” he hollers at Cole.

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck,” Cole mutters under his breath. “Y-You need to stop. This is not what we agreed to.”

“Shut up and do it before I put a bullet in between your eyes!”

Cole scrambles toward me, his hands shaking as he twists my arms behind my back and secures a rope tightly around my wrist. He presses something sharp into my palm. Then he fastens the rope around my ankles.

His eyes are frantic and guilt-ridden as they briefly meet mine, and he tugs at his hair and steps away.

“It’s okay, Belle,” I whisper, standing next to her, angling my body in front of her. “It’s okay. Everything will be okay.”

I’ll die before letting anything happen to you.

“Maxwell,” she whispers, “I’m so scared. He tranquilized me earlier and when I came to, I was already tied up here in the garden. I don’t know what he wants.”

Her trembling voice is a gut punch to my stomach and fury churns inside me. How dare he hurt my wife? How could he betray us after my family treated him like one of our own?

I knot my fists around the object Cole gave me. It’s a shard from the broken porcelain vase I found earlier. “I’m here, little muse. Nothing will happen to you.”

Turning back to Morris, I take in the old man clearly for the first time. The rain plasters his hair to his face and he holds the pistol tightly in his grip. He saunters toward us. He isn’t limping.

Something must’ve given away my disbelief, and he chuckles, shaking his head. “All these years, you’ve never thought to look beyond the damn curse for the deaths. Never suspected maybe someone was behind all of this…like a sad, limping butler. You Andersons are pathetic .”

“Deaths?” My blood freezes. The medical examiner’s findings. He couldn’t possibly mean—

Morris laughs. There’s a madness in those normally calm eyes, his lips twisting in a snarl. “Your grandmother, your mom…”

He cocks his brow, and adds, “Sydney.”

Belle gasps in horror. Morris’s confirmation is a blow to my stomach. Of course, it had to be an inside job. I figured that was the case, but I’d never have thought it would be the man who was like a grandfather to me.

“W-Why?” I whisper.

Cole darts toward the old man. He bellows, “You killed Sydney? It was you all along? You fucking bastard! You led me to believe—”

Morris shoots him in the chest. Belle screams as I flinch, stepping in front of her, not wanting her to see this. Cole crumbles to the ground like a sack of potatoes, blood pouring out of his wound.

Cole groans, his shirt quickly darkening as he clutches his chest and wheezes, “I t-trusted you.”

“No, you were desperate, and I gave you an in.” Morris scoffs before turning to me. “Your family is cursed all right, but those deaths aren’t supernatural. I killed them.”

“But w-why? Why would you do this? We’ve treated you like family. We’ve done nothing to you. We’ve—”

“You’ve done nothing to me?” he yells and a flash of lightning flashes in the skies, illuminating the twisted darkness hiding inside him all along.

“I lost everyone because of your family!”

I shake my head. “No. You’re wrong. Your sister died and your parents were depressed and killed themselves. We had nothing to do with it.”

“She died because of your grandfather!”

His words ring out loudly in the barren garden and a brisk gale kicks up, sending torrents of rainwater across our bodies .

“My family gave everything to yours since my grandfather’s generation. We lived, breathed, and died in service of the great Anderson family,” he sneers. “And what did we get in return? Only death.”

He paces in front of me and Cole groans on the ground, his eyes darting to my face, reminding me of the shard in my palm. Quickly, I work on the rope—the fucking bastard got in way over his head and is now trying to do the right thing.

Too late, you fucker.

Morris rambles, his tall frame shaking. “Your grandfather murdered my sister!”

What? I shake my head. “No. Your sister was killed in Central Park. It was a robbery; the murderer is still at large. That’s what you told me before.”

He scoffs. “Do you know why she was at Central Park that night? I bet you didn’t know. Your grandfather was vile. He used her and broke her heart. He told her he didn’t love her. My sweet sister was devastated when your grandfather turned her down and she ran away from the estate. He should’ve pursued her—I begged him to go after her. He knew it was dangerous for a woman to be out by herself at night. But he did nothing, and because of that, I lost my sister.”

Morris steps toward me, his eyes welling with unshed tears. “I’m seventy-five years old, but my life ended at fifteen when Ruth died. My parents were heartbroken after her death and killed themselves shortly afterward. And do you know what your grandfather did?”

He throws his head back and laughs, the sound brittle. “He ‘kept me on’ like I should be grateful for him being so callous, for him murdering my entire family. Then he had the audacity to fall in love with another woman.”

“Oh my God, he’s crazy,” Belle whispers behind me. Her breathing catches and I work the porcelain shard harder in my palm, feeling it cut into the thick rope.

“How could he fall in love and live a happy life when my sister never got a chance to do the same? How could your grandfather live his life as if my world didn’t end? While he wasn’t the one to plunge the knife into my sister’s chest, he might as well have been the one to do it!” Morris blows out a deep breath, his nostrils flaring. “Do you know she was defiled before she was gutted?”

His gun shakes, the barrel aimed at my chest. “I identified her body because my parents couldn’t bring themselves to go to the morgue. I saw all the cuts and bruises on her face and body as the coroner told me what happened. How she was battered, used in the worst ways and laid on the ground for two hours before she bled to death.”

Morris pants, clearly out of breath from his unhinged tirade, his pale face now flushed. “Two hours, all alone! So no, I couldn’t let your grandfather live his merry life with his wife, a woman he ‘loved.’ And conveniently, your family is rumored to be cursed.”

He barks out another crazy laugh before his voice takes on a snotty tone. “‘Should the firstborn son fall in love, the woman he loves dies.’ I couldn’t have asked for a better alibi for everything. A syringe filled with air took care of your grandmother—a random heart attack, out of the blue. It took everything in me not to celebrate when your grandfather almost drowned himself in his sorrows, blaming the curse for everything.”

Shock rears through me at the callousness in his tone, as if he were talking about the weather and not about murder.

“But what about Granduncle Nathaniel?” I need to buy myself more time. I feel the rope giving, even as my fingers burn and a warm stickiness runs down my fingertips. Fuck, I must’ve pricked myself.

“That was just fate helping me out. You Andersons are so pathetically gullible. When Nathaniel’s family died in that tragic, accidental drowning, you all just heaped it onto the curse, giving it more oxygen, letting it suck out all the joy in your house.”

“But if you had issues with my grandfather, you already got your revenge. Why did you go after Mom, Sydney, and,” I swallow, moving closer to my wife who is still sniffling behind me, “Belle? ”

Belle whimpers and I step closer. My legs graze hers to tell her I’m here with her every step of the way, that I wouldn’t let her go through this alone.

Morris snarls before answering, “My family didn’t have descendants. My sister didn’t get to marry, have children, have grandchildren. Why should your family get to do what was taken away from mine?”

Curling his lips in a sneer, he steps toward us and bares his teeth. “Sixty years! I’ve spent sixty years slaving away for your pathetic family when all I want to do is to kill each one of you. Every year when I visit my parents’ and sister’s graves, I vow to them I’ll avenge their deaths. And I tormented you all, didn’t I?”

He laughs. “Maybe your family is cursed after all, and I’m its messenger. After all, the firstborn Anderson is never supposed to fall in love. That’s what the rumors said, right? So, when Linus stupidly did the same with Julianna after a decade of a ‘cordial’ relationship at best, I killed her, because your family should suffer like mine did. A swift push down the stairs, a few marbles scattered on the staircase, and no one suspected anything.”

I clench my teeth, my blood boiling me from the inside at the nonchalance in his tone as he described how he murdered my mom, the wonderful woman who taught us to be kind, to appreciate life, the woman who left a permanent hole in our hearts.

“And Sydney?” I seethe. I struggle harder against my binds. I’m going to kill this motherfucker with my bare hands.

“Rohypnol and ketamine in her drink during dinner, and you did the rest, boy, when you argued with her afterward and left her alone. Another little push and she slipped right over the railing. Didn’t even scream. And don’t get me started on the useless cops. No one wants to piss off the mighty Anderson family, now do they? When everyone claimed it was an accident and she clearly drowned, no one cared to dig deeper.”

He throws his head back and cracks open a satisfied smile, his eyes glazing over, spittle flying out of his mouth. It’s like he’s letting out all the poison he has bottled up inside him for all these years. “You and your family think you’re all powerful, the mighty, impeccable Anderson family, but who ended up besting you all and driving each generation of you insane with fear…a curse, ha! I did it! And it’s not enough… It’ll never be enough!”

My nostrils flare, the fury obliterating my sanity.

He killed them all. He terrorized us all these years. He killed Sydney, an innocent girl who didn’t even really know what love was. He killed Mom, Grandma, dooming our family into perpetual grief.

He let Rex, a six-year-old, take the fall for Mom’s death.

The cold-blooded murderer. The true monster in our family.

I’m going to kill him before the night is over. But first, I need to save Belle.

“You’ve killed three people already. Your sister and family will never come back. Three lives for three lives. Just let Belle go. She didn’t do anything. She’s only been an Anderson for less than a year. Let her go. Take me instead. I’m the true Anderson. The eldest son.”

“No!” Belle cries. “Maxwell, stop it. Don’t do this.”

Morris chuckles and shakes his head. The madness dims briefly in his eyes and he has the gall to look remorseful.

He looks at Belle and murmurs, “Belle, I’ve always liked you. You were kind to all of us, a joy to be around. You reminded me of Ruth. Her heart was pure, just like yours. But then, you had to fall in love with him .”

He glares at me. “I saw you two cavorting late at night in the kitchen.” His attention returns to Belle. “I tried warning you away, but you just didn’t listen.”

Belle gasps. “The strange sounds in the mansion. The masked man on the premises—”

“Your fall at BSUA. Cole here,” he motions to the now unconscious man, “poured oil over the steps and gave you a small push. He thought you’d just tumble and hurt yourself a little. He convinced himself he was saving you in the long run because you’d leave Maxwell or he’d leave you because of the curse. That fool.”

Morris tsks , kicking Cole’s unmoving body with his foot. “He worked with me because, like me, his family was devastated when Sydney died. He was convinced Sydney was killed by dear Maxwell because she sent him a text message the night she died. She told him she cheated on Maxwell and she was going to confess.”

Belle whispers, “Everything was premeditated—you and Cole. Everything .” I can hear the shock and pain in her voice, the betrayal from two people she cared about.

“I approached him after I saw Maxwell and him arguing at the wedding reception. It was obvious there was something more to it than jealousy. Cole here, apparently, had revenge plans all along. He somehow found out you were on the shortlist as the candidate for the future Mrs. Anderson role and was hoping to use you to get close to Maxwell, but then the idiot fell in love with you instead.”

Morris shakes his head. “He wanted to save you from Maxwell. He convinced himself he was doing the right thing, the pathetic fool. All I had to do was convince him we had the same goals, and he happily followed my plans instead—after all, I knew the Andersons the best.”

He sighs and adds, “Sometimes, dear Belle, life is unfair. I would know that. You were in the wrong place, at the wrong time, loved by the wrong person.”

Keeping the barrel of his gun steady, he turns toward me, his eyes taking on a dangerous glint. “I’m an old man. I’m not long for this earth. But I can’t let the curse grow cold now, can I? You doomed Belle to death, son, by announcing your love to the world. You should’ve just left her alone…and maybe I would’ve spared her. After all, I’d grown rather fond of her myself.”

Morris sneaks a glance behind me, no doubt looking at Belle. He says, “I wanted to let you go, my dear…that’s why I never gave you a high dose of cyanide. I was hoping you’d feel sick enough to realize something was wrong, to believe the curse was real. But you were foolish…drunk on love. Stubborn to a fault.”

The rope snaps in my hand, the broken shard finally slicing through the thick twine. Morris’s frame stiffens, a calm lethality in his gaze as he clearly makes a decision.

For a moment, the world freezes around me—my chest stilling mid-inhale, the pouring rain battering my skin.

In this split millisecond, I know what he’s going to do next, and I move automatically, acting only by impulse, by a surge of protectiveness toward the woman behind me.

The love of my life.

The world spins again, and Morris’s arm moves, his aim shifting from my chest to the person behind me.

A thundering boom rings in the air, and I throw myself over Belle, my pulse roaring in my ears.

I hear her scream and feel a sharp burning impact on my back.

My breath rips from my lungs, and my vision blackens.

I’ve been shot.