The Man Who Stole His Brother’s Name to Destroy Me

Before he—before Nathaniel pretending to be Harold—could give me an answer, a furious shout tore through the room. “Harold, what do you think you’re doing?!” I stiffened. Delilah was standing at the doorway, her face pale, her chest rising and falling as if she had run all the way upstairs. Her eyes flicked from his face to mine, then locked on our barely separated lips. Her expression twisted. “You disgusting little snake!” she shrieked, rushing forward and shoving me with both hands. I stumbled backward, my spine slamming against the bedframe. “Did you just make a move on my husband?” My throat closed. I couldn’t even form a sound. Her finger stabbed toward my face. “So this is your plan? Your husband is dead, your son is gone, and now you’re trying to steal what belongs to me?” “Honey, it’s not like that,” he said hurriedly, stepping toward her. “I was trying to calm her down. She leaned in first.” Each word felt like a hammer to my ribs. This was the man who once shielded me from raised voices, who used to stand between me and the world whenever I was afraid. Now he had thrown me in front of the fire without hesitation. My chest burned, the air refusing to go in properly, like my lungs had forgotten their job. Delilah sneered as she closed the distance. Her hand shot into my hair, jerking my head back so hard stars exploded behind my eyes. “No—he’s my husband!” I blurted out, desperate, foolish hope driving the words from my mouth. Maybe if he saw her hurting me, he’d finally tell the truth. Instead, Delilah laughed. It wasn’t a sound of humor. It was sharp and ugly. “You’ve really lost your mind,” she said. “That man is Harold. And he belongs to me.” The door slammed open again. Lucinda rushed in, eyes flashing. She used to call me her daughter. She used to hug me when I cried. Relief surged through me. This time, she would make things right. “What is going on here?” she demanded. But before I could answer, she crossed the room in two strides and slapped me hard across the face. My head snapped to the side, my cheek exploding with pain. “Get a grip,” she said icily. “Your husband is dead. Stop humiliating yourself.” I swayed, dizzy, barely staying upright. “Mom, don’t be angry with her,” Nathaniel said softly, wearing Harold’s face like a mask. “She’s grieving. We look alike—it’s natural she’d get confused.” Confused. Not wronged. Not hurt. Just confused. Then he pulled Delilah into his arms. She melted against him like she belonged there, one hand fisting in his shirt. Over his shoulder, she met my gaze and smiled. Not kindly. Triumphantly. Lucinda’s voice cracked like a whip. “Eleanor. Kneel down and apologize.” I stared at her, stunned. “What did you say?” “Get on your knees,” she repeated. “You insulted your sister-in-law. Make it right.” Blood rushed out of my face. “She isn’t my—” I stopped myself. There was no point. Not a single person in this room was on my side. Nathaniel looked at me with false concern. “Eleanor, you’ve been through a lot. You shouldn’t act like this. You really need professional help.” I wanted to scream. I didn’t need therapy. I needed my husband to admit the truth. I needed my friend to stop pretending she hadn’t destroyed my life. I needed just one person to believe me. “Don’t drag this out,” he said gently. “You’ll upset Delilah. Just apologize so we can move on.” My lips shook. “I won’t.” Lucinda’s patience vanished. “Do it. Now.” The pounding in my ears drowned everything else. My legs trembled until I couldn’t hold myself up anymore. Slowly, painfully, I sank to the floor, the cold seeping into my bones. “I’m sorry,” I whispered. Delilah tilted her head, satisfied. “Make sure it never happens again.” That was when something inside me finally gave way. They weren’t mistaken. They weren’t confused. They were working together to crush me. They left without another glance, his arm tight around her waist. And I collapsed completely. I covered my face and cried until my chest felt hollow, until I couldn’t remember what it was like not to hurt. With shaking fingers, I grabbed my phone and dialed the one number I swore I’d never call again. When my brother answered, I broke. “I was wrong,” I sobbed. “I shouldn’t have left home for him. You warned me. He ruined me. Please… please take me back.” My voice fell apart into something between laughter and despair. “And if you can’t save me… maybe just end it for me instead.”

My brother’s voice exploded through the phone, raw with alarm. “Eleanor, stop scaring me. What are you saying? What happened? Is this about Nathaniel again? If you’re destroying yourself over that jerk, then you’ve completely lost it. He’s gone—and even if he weren’t, he never deserved you.” “He isn’t gone,” I said quietly, the words shaking with anger and heartbreak. There was a long silence on the other end. I could almost hear him holding his breath. “What do you mean, he isn’t?” “I mean exactly that,” I replied. “Nathaniel is still alive. He staged his own death, Adrian.” His tone shifted instantly, sharp with urgency. “Do you want me there right now? I’ll get you out of that house. You can start over, Vic. You don’t need him. I’ll help you find your son—” My throat burned. “So you already knew what kind of hell I was living in?” “Yes,” he said simply. “We stopped talking after your wedding, but I never stopped watching out for you. I’ve always had people keeping an eye on things.” My eyes filled again. “Then don’t just watch anymore,” I said. “Help me disappear. Help me make him feel what I felt when he erased himself from my life.” For a few seconds, there was nothing but his breathing. Then his voice came back, firm and steady. “Give me seven days. I’ll set it up. You won’t have to do this alone.” I let the phone fall from my fingers. My hands wouldn’t stop shaking. I stayed exactly where I was, staring at the ceiling until dawn broke, replaying everything—every lie, every memory. Sleep never came. A knock sounded at my door. Before I could answer, the handle turned and he walked in, wearing that careful, concerned expression. “Eleanor,” he murmured, “I’m sorry about yesterday. Things shouldn’t have spiraled like that.” He paused, then added gently, “I’ll take you to the police today. We’ll see if there’s any news about your baby. After that, we’ll go to the hospital and make sure you’re okay.” I didn’t respond. I just looked at him, trying to recognize the man I once loved. I was about to stand when Delilah’s voice drifted from the hallway. “Harold, sweetheart,” she called weakly, “I feel dizzy. I need you.” Then I heard it. A baby crying. Not just any cry, but the thin, frantic sound of an infant who needed to be held. Nathaniel turned instantly, already moving toward the door. He didn’t spare me another glance. My chest tightened until I thought I might pass out. He ran to her. To her baby. And my own child was still missing. My fingers dug into the mattress as my mind slipped back to the day I first met him—how he stood in the park glowing in the late summer sun, how I’d liked him first, how I’d told Delilah everything, believing she would be happy for me. She’d smiled back then, teased me, played the part of a loyal friend. I never expected to later see them together—laughing, holding hands. I never confronted either of them. I convinced myself I was being mature. That love was complicated. Then Delilah left town, and I stayed behind, building a life with the man she abandoned. Now she was back. And she had his child. I pressed my hand over my stomach, remembering how he used to lie beside me at night, whispering promises to the unborn baby. “I’ll never miss a single milestone. First word, first step, first day of school. I’ll teach him to ride a bike—maybe even how to fly. He’ll always know I’m here.” Every word had been a lie. I slipped out of the house without saying anything. At the police station, I asked—again—if there was any news about my missing son. The officer only shook his head. “Nothing new, Mrs. Carrington. At this point…” He didn’t finish the sentence, but I understood it perfectly. I went back in a daze. And then I saw it. A crib in the living room. Inside it lay a baby boy, fists curled, tiny sounds drifting from his lips. My heart nearly burst out of my chest. He had my son’s hair, my son’s dimple. I stepped closer, shaking. Just one touch— “HELP! Somebody help!” Delilah shrieked suddenly. “She’s trying to hurt the baby!”

“I’m not trying to hurt him!” I yelled, my throat raw, hands lifted in surrender while Delilah shrieked like I was some kind of threat. “She’s lying!” Delilah sobbed, throwing herself over the crib as though I were about to attack. “She reached for him—she’s completely unstable!” “I only wanted to—” “Enough!” my mother-in-law snapped, slicing through my words. “I’m done with your performances, Eleanor. You’ve been acting deranged ever since my son passed away.” Deranged. That was what she called the panic of a mother who saw a child that looked exactly like the baby stolen from her arms. “I told you I wouldn’t hurt him—” “Take her downstairs,” Lucinda ordered, her voice glacial as she turned to the staff. “Lock her in the basement.” The words didn’t register at first. “What did you just say?” Nathaniel—still hiding behind Harold’s name—hesitated only briefly. I searched his face for the man who once protected me, the one who promised never to let anyone hurt me. Instead, he murmured, “It’s better this way. She needs to cool off.” Something inside my chest collapsed. Two employees seized my arms. I fought, twisting wildly, my screams echoing down the hall. “Please! I didn’t do anything! You can’t do this!” But I was nothing to them. Just another problem to be removed. The door slammed shut behind me, plunging me into darkness. The basement reeked of rot and damp stone. My feet slid over gritty concrete, then over something soft that scurried away. The sound of insects skittering made my skin crawl. Somewhere close, a rat shrieked. I pressed my back against the wall, hugging myself, shaking so hard my teeth rattled. Then pain exploded in my ankle. I looked down just in time to glimpse a thick coil sliding away into the shadows. I don’t remember falling. Only screaming. When I opened my eyes again, the world smelled of disinfectant. A nurse hovered over me, her voice calm. “You’re fortunate,” she said. “It was a venomous bite. If you’d arrived any later, it could’ve been fatal.” My lips were dry as sand. “How did I get here?” “The butler called emergency services,” she replied. “But you need to rest.” Rest. After being tossed into a basement like garbage. I scanned the room for any familiar face, but she answered my question before I could ask. “No one has visited you.” By the time I was released, my body was weak but my resolve was solid. I would never go back to that house and bow my head again. At the gate, the butler was waiting. “They’re all attending an auction tonight, ma’am,” he said stiffly. “Auction?” “Yes. Miss Delilah is hosting a charity event.” Charity. I nearly laughed out loud. The hall buzzed with perfume, gossip, and money. Crystal chandeliers shimmered above crowds wrapped in silk and diamonds. Onstage, Delilah stood radiant in red, smiling into a microphone as one of her paintings was wheeled out. “This is my most meaningful work,” she said sweetly. “I hope someone here will treasure it.” Bids flew. Numbers soared. She basked in admiration. But I was done letting her have the spotlight. I walked forward, heels striking the marble, and took the microphone from the startled auctioneer. “I’d like to contribute an additional item,” I announced. “A Carrington family heirloom.” The room rippled with whispers. I slid my wedding ring free. “This was given to me by Nathaniel Carrington. Its value is beyond measure—but tonight, its price will be higher than money.” I met their eyes steadily. “Whoever purchases this ring… will become my future husband.” The silence was deafening. Across the room, Nathaniel’s face drained of color. The ring vanished to the highest bidder, and with it went the last thread tying me to that man. Nathaniel cornered me moments later. “Are you insane? That ring represented everything my brother gave you! Do you have any idea what you just threw away?” “Why does it matter to you?” I asked coolly. “You’re not him.” His jaw tightened. “I’m his family—” “Your brother is gone,” I said. “And I’ve buried the woman who loved him.” I walked away. Delilah followed me outside, ripping my hair back in fury. “You selfish witch! You stole my night!” I tore her hand free and laughed, hollow and bitter. “Enjoy the spotlight, Delilah. I won’t be here to compete with you anymore.”

By the time I reached the house, my lungs still felt too tight, like I’d been breathing smoke instead of air. I had barely stepped inside when Lucinda rushed at me, her face flushed with fury. “Did you really sell off Nathaniel’s belongings?” she snapped. “His ring, his bike, the aircraft—everything that carried his name?” “I did,” I replied without emotion. “All of it went to auction.” Her mouth fell open. “Do you even understand what you just threw away? Those were assets worth millions. That wealth belongs to the Carrington family!” “He was my husband,” I said coolly. “Those things were mine to decide on.” Her voice dropped. “Then where is the money?” “I gave it away,” I said. “Every cent. Donated.” The room went silent, the kind of stillness that buzzes in your ears before a storm. Then her hand was in my hair, yanking my head back until pain tore through my scalp. “You vile little ingrate!” she screamed. “So this is who you really are. You’ve been pretending all these years!” I clenched my jaw and stared straight back at her. “You’re the one pretending. You played the loving mother, acted like you cared about me—” Her slap came so hard my vision burst with light. Then another. And another. The blows kept coming. By the fifth, my ears were roaring. By the tenth, I could taste blood. She didn’t stop until she’d struck me over and over, until I couldn’t even keep count anymore. All the while, Nathaniel—hiding behind his brother’s name—stood nearby and watched. “She deserves it,” he said flatly. “Delilah told me everything. How you ruined the auction and tried to hurt her. You even stole the spotlight from her painting.” My legs finally gave way. I collapsed onto the floor, palms pressed to the carpet, breath tearing painfully through my chest. No one moved to help. No one intervened. It didn’t matter. This would be the last time. Later, as I lay on the bed trying to recover, my phone vibrated on the nightstand. It was a message from Adrian. Everything is set. I’ll come for you tomorrow. Wrap up whatever you still need to do. My thumbs hovered before replying: There’s just one more thing. After that, I’ll leave with you. I dropped the phone, only noticing the shadow by the door when I turned my head. Nathaniel was leaning against the frame, arms folded. “Who were you texting?” “It doesn’t concern you,” I said. His eyes darkened. “Is it the guy who bought the ring? Tell me his name. I’ll buy it back.” I laughed softly, without humor. “Why would you? It was never yours to begin with.” “I’m doing it for my brother,” he insisted. “You’re really going to remarry instead of staying here? You could live with us, help with the baby, be a proper aunt—with Delilah.” I studied him, then let out a short laugh. “Your brother is dead. Our marriage died with him. I don’t belong here anymore.” He stared at the suitcase by the wall. “You’re leaving?” Before I could answer, Delilah screamed from downstairs. “Nathaniel! Something’s wrong with Leo!” His face drained of color. “Our son!” I stayed where I was. He snatched his keys. “Don’t you dare disappear, Eleanor. We’re not done talking. You’re not marrying anyone else.” His words were sharp with command as he rushed out with Delilah. The door slammed. I picked up my phone immediately. Take the baby. That’s the final step. Once they believe I’m dead, everything will end. Adrian replied almost instantly: Got it. I’ll take care of it. Be ready. I dragged my suitcase into the hall, every step feeling like breaking free of chains. Outside, a taxi idled at the curb. I didn’t look back. --- Nathaniel The smell of disinfectant burned my nose as I paced the hospital corridor. Delilah’s sobs drifted from the room, while Leo’s cries had weakened to a raspy whimper. Doctors were still running tests, and my heart felt like it was splitting apart. My phone buzzed. Irritated, I answered without checking the screen. “What is it? I’m busy.” “Sir…” the butler’s voice came through, shaking. “I said I—” “Sir, please listen. There’s been an accident.” He swallowed. “Miss Eleanor was in a car crash.” I stopped cold. “What are you saying?” A long pause. Then, barely audible: “She didn’t make it.”

Nathaniel froze, the phone pressed so tightly against his ear that his knuckles whitened. “Are you trying to make some kind of joke?” His voice came out sharp, almost threatening. “Did she pay you to say that?” On the other end, the butler sounded rattled. “No, sir… I wouldn’t dare. Miss Eleanor… she was in a car crash. She’s gone.” “No, impossible! Why would she be in a car crash when I told her to wait at home?” He was fuming. “Well,” the butler sighed. “We’re not sure, but we think that she was going somewhere because she brought a lot of her things.” Nathaniel's jaw clenched, ready to snap back, when a second call came in. Without even saying goodbye, he switched lines. “This is Officer Landers. Are you related to a Eleanor Carrington?” Nathaniel’s instinct was to say I’m her husband. The words almost slipped out—until reality slammed back into him. His lies. His carefully built façade. He couldn’t risk it. “I’m… her brother-in-law,” he said instead. The words felt foreign in his mouth, acidic. The officer’s tone was grim. “I’m sorry, sir. We’ve recovered ashes and several personal belongings from the crash site. The body… it’s unrecognizable because the car exploded after collision.” For a moment, Nathaniel’s entire body went numb. “No,” he said sharply. “Impossible. How? Are you pranking me? Did she get you in this so we pay her attention?” “No, Sir. Of course not,” he denied. “If you want to confirm, then go to the crime scene in Lake Shore. We all have the evidence to prove it was her.” Nathaniel didn’t hear the rest. He was already moving—grabbing his jacket, his phone still in his hand, striding for the door with a speed that made the butler step back. In the hallway, Delilah appeared, her face pinched with confusion. “What’s happening? Where are you going?” “I need to get to Eleanor.” The words came out clipped, urgent. Her eyes widened, shock morphing into anger. “Are you insane? Why would you—” But he was already past her, his footsteps echoing down the corridor. Delilah’s frustration only deepened when her phone buzzed. The hospital doctor was on the line, requesting her presence immediately. She arrived at Leo’s room moments later, finding the baby squirming in his crib, tiny fists waving in distress. “We need to monitor him,” the doctor explained. “He refuses to take milk. We may need you to breastfeed for now—he needs the nutrients.” Delilah recoiled. “I don’t want to.” The doctor’s brow furrowed. Realizing how suspicious she must sound, Delilah forced a sudden, sugary smile. “Oh… right. I’ll try. You can leave us.” Once the door shut, her demeanor flipped like a switch. “You damn baby,” she hissed, leaning over the crib. “What’s wrong with you? You can’t be sick. And you certainly can’t die. Do you hear me? There is no way I’m letting Harold walk away from me. You are my leverage—even if you’re not mine.” The baby’s cries grew louder, shriller. Delilah’s frustration spiked. No one knew the truth—that her pregnancy had been faked from the beginning. That Leo was never hers. “Nurse!” she barked, throwing open the door. “Feed her—I can’t stop the crying. And make sure she lives, or you’ll regret it.” While the nurse took the baby, Delilah called the driver. “I want to know where Nathaniel went and why he ran off without telling me.” There was a pause before the driver said, “It might have to do with Miss Eleanor.” “Yes, I know that—” Delilah’s voice sharpened. “That’s why I want to know why he’s in such a hurry. Why he’s choosing her over me—” “Ma’am,” the driver interrupted quietly, “Miss Eleanor… she’s dead.” Delilah froze, stunned for only a heartbeat before a slow, delighted smile spread across her face. Then, laughter—high, sharp, and cruel—spilled out. “Dead? Really?” She tilted her head, savoring the thought. “Then let’s go see her and then celebrate.” By the time Delilah was en route, Nathaniel was already at the crash site. The air was thick with the stench of burned metal and smoke. The twisted remains of the vehicle lay crumpled against the scorched earth, barely recognizable as a car. An officer led him toward the remains they had recovered. “We can’t identify her by sight,” the man explained. “But these were found at the scene.” One by one, they showed him her possessions—a charred handbag, a half-melted phone, the faint outline of a familiar scarf. And then… the necklace. The necklace he had given her once, years ago, when promises still meant something between them. The sight of it ripped through him, stealing the air from his lungs. He remembered his promise, “I will love you for the rest of my life. You are the only one for me, and I promise to make you happy forever.” Nathaniel’s knees buckled. He sank to the ground, his palms pressing into the dirt as though he could steady the earth beneath him. “No,” he rasped. “No, I won’t accept this. This isn’t her.” The officer hesitated, then handed him a document. “We ran fingerprints on the recovered items. They matched Eleanor Carrington.” Nathaniel’s head lowered. For the first time in years, the world felt like it had dropped out from under him. His heartbeat was a dull, punishing drum in his ears. He didn’t notice the murmurs of the officers nearby. He didn’t see the way Delilah’s car rolled up in the distance. He just stood there, staring at the ashes in the metal tray, his expression unreadable—but his grip on the necklace so tight it left angry red marks in his palm. “Eleanor, please…” he muttered. “Tell me this is just a joke.”

The morgue was silent except for the faint hum of the fluorescent lights above, their cold glow reflecting off the stainless-steel surfaces. The air was sharp with antiseptic and something heavier—finality. Nathaniel, still pretending to be Harold, stood rooted to the spot, staring at the small metal tray beside the gurney. A charred necklace lay there, twisted but still recognizable. He knew it too well. He had given it to Eleanor on their first anniversary. The sheet covering her supposed remains seemed to press down on him like a weight. Every fiber of him screamed that this wasn’t her—that this couldn’t be her—but the evidence kept piling up. The police had confirmed fingerprints. Her belongings were found at the scene. The ashes. The scorched metal. A sharp crack shattered the air. Pain bloomed across his cheek. “What the hell—” He snapped his head toward the source. Delilah stood there, her manicured hand still raised, eyes blazing with fury. “What the hell is wrong with you?” she shot back, her voice laced with accusation. “I just slapped you to wake you up. You’ve been standing here acting like her husband since you got the call!” Nathaniel’s chest tightened. “Well… I am her husband.” Delilah’s lips curled into a mocking smile. “Oh, so now you admit it? Now that she’s dead, you’re ready to drop the ‘Harold’ act and go back to being Nathaniel? What’s the plan—suddenly announce she was your wife all along? Don’t tell me you’re having some moral crisis now.” His eyes narrowed. “What are you talking about?” “I’m talking about the fact that we planned this. You wanted her gone, remember? You said you couldn’t stand living this lie anymore, that you were done with her. And now you’re here—fuming, hysterical, acting like you’ve lost the love of your life.” Delilah’s voice dripped with contempt. “Didn’t we want this? So why are you looking at me like I’m the villain?” For a moment, Nathaniel couldn’t answer. Her words dug into his mind, pulling at memories he’d buried deep. He remembered the first time he noticed Eleanor. She had been standing alone on the pier that evening, the sun sinking low, spilling gold over the water. The wind caught her hair, tossing it across her face, but she didn’t mind. She was smiling at something on her phone, laughing quietly to herself. Curiosity had pulled him closer. “What’s so funny?” he’d asked, half-expecting her to flinch at the intrusion. Instead, she’d glanced up at him with those steady, dark eyes. “A joke my brother sent me,” she said simply, tucking her hair behind her ear. “Do you want to hear it, or are you just nosy by nature?” The corner of his mouth had curved. “Maybe both.” She’d tilted her head, pretending to study him. “You’re Nathaniel, right? The pilot?” “Guilty.” “I heard you have a habit of disappearing for days,” she said. “I thought that was just a rumor. But here you are, magically appearing on my pier.” “Your pier?” he teased. “Yes,” she replied, with that smile—quiet but certain. “I come here when I need peace. The world’s noisy enough as it is.” Something about her tone had disarmed him. That night, they’d ended up walking the length of the pier together, trading stories—his about turbulent flights and foreign cities, hers about sketching by the water and the strange comfort of seagulls. They’d stayed long enough to see the stars come out, their shoulders brushing as they leaned on the railing. Back then, they were sweet together. Late-night talks. Walks under the stars. Stolen moments in between his flights. She had a way of making the chaos of his life feel calm. But then… he had chosen Delilah. At first, it wasn’t love—it was a game. He wanted to test Eleanor, to see if she’d fight for him, if she’d show even a flicker of jealousy. But instead of clinging to him, she’d smiled politely and gone out with another man. That had stung his pride. So he doubled down. He stayed with Delilah, telling himself it was for the thrill, for the ego boost. When Delilah left to chase her dreams, he thought that chapter was over. But then, somehow, he and Eleanor had drifted back together. They married. For a while, they were happy. She made him feel steady. And still… when Delilah returned, he chose her again. “Don’t tell me you actually care for her now,” Delilah said, breaking into his thoughts. Her gaze was sharp, searching his face. “Do you love her?” The question froze him. He didn’t know what to say—didn’t want to know the answer himself. “What?” she pressed. “Well? Do you?” He forced a scoff, though the sound felt hollow. “Of course not. I’m just… worried because she’s dead. She’s—” “Because she’s what?” Delilah pushed. “She’s gone,” he finished quietly. “That’s all.” But the words didn’t feel like the truth. Before Delilah could press him further, the morgue door burst open. One of Nathaniel’s men rushed in, his face pale and breathless. “Sir—” he started, then hesitated. Nathaniel straightened, tension coiling in his gut. “What is it?” “It’s Leo,” the man said, his voice trembling. “He’s… missing.” The world seemed to tilt. “What do you mean missing?” Nathaniel's voice was sharp, lethal. “We can’t find him anywhere in the hospital. The nurses say they thought he was with Delilah. Security is already searching the premises, but we think he’s been kidnapped.”