The temptation of my brother-in-law-Chapter 104 - one hundred and four

Chapter One Hundred and Four

Malachi’s POV

I couldn’t go home. Not yet. Not when I knew Alicia was upstairs hurting because of me. Not when Cecilia was playing the perfect girlfriend. Not when I was one wrong word away from exploding.

So I drove to Dante’s place instead. His apartment was across town. Private. Secure. A place where I could think without the weight of family expectations pressing down on me.

I parked and headed up to the third floor. Knocked on his door harder than necessary.

Pearl opened it. Dante’s younger sister. She was wearing something small and tight. Her smile widened when she saw me.

"Malachi. What a nice surprise." She leaned against the doorframe. "Dante’s here but he’s busy. Maybe you and I could—"

"Move." I pushed past her into the apartment.

She pouted but didn’t protest. Just closed the door and followed me into the living room where Dante was sprawled on the couch with his laptop.

He looked up. Took one look at my face and sat up straighter. "What happened?"

"I need you to investigate something. Now."

"Now? It’s almost midnight."

"I don’t care." I paced the room. Restless energy making it impossible to stand still. "There’s been someone visiting Emily’s tomb. A woman. I need to know who she is."

Dante’s expression sharpened. "Emily Cartwright? Your old friend?"

"Yes. Someone’s been there recently, and I need to know who."

"Why does it matter? Could be a friend. A relative."

"Emily didn’t have friends. Not really. And her relatives are all gone. So who the hell is visiting her grave? And why now?"

Dante grabbed his jacket. "Alright. Let’s go check the cemetery records. They might have visitor logs."

Pearl appeared with coffee. Two cups. She handed one to Dante and tried to give the other to me.

"You look tense," she said, her voice dripping with suggestion. "Coffee might help. Or I could help with that tension in other ways—"

"Pearl," Dante warned.

"What? I’m just being helpful."

I ignored her. Ignored the coffee. My mind was already at the cemetery. Already trying to piece together who would visit Emily after all these years.

We drove in silence. The cemetery was dark. Still silent.

The security gave us access to the office where they kept records after Dante discussed with them.

Dante pulled up the visitor logs on the computer. Started scrolling through dates.

"Here," he said. "Emily Cartwright’s plot. Visitors logged in the past month."

I leaned over his shoulder. Read the names. Most were staff doing maintenance. But there were three entries for actual visitors.

All marked as "Anonymous."

"Someone’s been hiding their identity," Dante said. "That’s deliberate."

"Can we access the security footage?"

"Maybe. If they have cameras covering that section." He pulled up another system. Started searching through camera feeds.

We spent hours going through footage. Fast-forwarding through days. Looking for anyone approaching Emily’s grave.

Finally, we found something. A woman. Late twenties or early thirties. Dark clothes. Sunglasses even though it was overcast. She approached the grave. Left flowers. Stood there for several minutes. Then left.

But the camera angle was wrong. We couldn’t see her face clearly.

"Run it again," I said. "Slower."

Dante did. We watched frame by frame. But the woman was too careful. Never looked directly at the camera. Never gave us a clean shot of her features.

"She knows where the cameras are," Dante observed. "This is intentional."

"Who is she?"

"I don’t know. But whoever she is, she’s connected to Emily somehow. And she doesn’t want to be identified."

I stared at the frozen image on screen. At this mysterious woman who visited a grave in secret. Who knew how to avoid surveillance.

"Keep digging," I said. "I need to know who she is. What her connection to Emily was."

"I will. But Malachi, why does this matter so much? Emily died years ago. Why does it matter who visits her now?"

Because Emily’s death was connected to everything. To the secrets this family kept. To the investigation I’d been running. To the truth I was still trying to uncover.

But I didn’t say that. Just said, "Because I need to know."

Dante didn’t push. Just nodded and kept working.

Hours passed. We went through more footage. Checked different angles. Tried to find any identifying details.

Nothing. The woman was a ghost.

By three AM, Dante was yawning. "Malachi, we need to take a break. Come back fresh tomorrow."

"No. Keep looking."

"I’m looking at the same footage for the fourth time. My eyes are crossing." He leaned back. "What’s really going on? This isn’t just about Emily. Something else is eating at you."

I didn’t answer. Kept staring at the screen. At the blurry figure of a woman who might hold answers I needed.

But the truth was, Dante was right. I was using this as a distraction. Something to focus on that wasn’t Alicia’s face when I’d told her I loved Cecilia. That wasn’t the memory of her crying. That wasn’t the guilt eating me alive.

"Did you and Alicia fight?" Dante asked quietly.

"No."

"Then why are you here at three in the morning instead of at home?"

"I needed to do something. Needed to keep my mind occupied."

"Away from her, you mean."

I didn’t confirm or deny it. Just kept staring at the screen.

Dante sighed. "Look, I get it. Whatever’s happening between you two, it’s complicated. But running yourself into the ground isn’t going to help."

"I’m fine."

"You’re not fine. You’re wired. Tense. Running on fumes and anger." He closed the laptop. "Go home. Get some sleep. I’ll keep working on this tomorrow."

"I need answers now."

"And you’ll get them. But not by staring at the same footage all night." He stood up. "Come on. I’ll drive you back."

I wanted to argue. Wanted to stay here in this office where I could focus on mysteries I might actually solve instead of situations I’d created that were destroying me from the inside.

But exhaustion was catching up. My eyes burned. My head pounded.

"Fine," I said.

We drove back to his apartment in silence. When we arrived, I sat in the car for a moment.

"Thanks," I said. "For tonight."

"Anytime. But Malachi? Whatever’s happening with Alicia, figure it out. Before it destroys you both."

I left without responding. Drove back to the mansion as the sun was starting to rise.

The house was quiet. Everyone still asleep.

I went to my room. Pulled up the CCTV feeds out of habit. Found Alicia’s room.

She was asleep. Finally. After hours of crying from the looks of it. Her face was swollen. Tear-stained.

I’d done that. I’d destroyed her.

Was I just destroying us both?

I didn’t have an answer. Just guilt. Just the image of her tear-stained face burned into my mind.

I closed the laptop. Lay back on my bed. Stared at the ceiling as dawn light crept through the windows.

"I did this to her."