CHAPTER 124: GREGOR’S LETTER

Braelyn’s POV

I don’t think there was anyone who got under the skin as much as Raphael. I could not stand being here for a second more because the temptations of grabbing a knife and charging at him were getting too tempting

I had to leave before I lost what little morality I had and committed murder.

I grabbed my bag and stormed away from the kitchen without looking back. I didn’t care what expression he had on his face; I was too angry to even breathe the same air as him for another second.

Steam was already fuming out of my ears

The moment I stepped into my room, I slammed the door harder than I intended, tossed my bag on the bed, and walked up to my small workstation

I immediately slouched into the chair at my small workstation to let out some steam. My pulse was still racing, half from rage, half from humiliation.

"I wish murder wasn’t illegal." How nice that would have been. Then my face scrunched up. That would mean Raphael could also easily kill me..

The throbbing ache in my head got worse. At this rate, I might die from anger. I muttered every insult I knew under my breath, cursing Raphael for the way he sat there so calmly, like nothing he did was ever wrong, like invading my space and my sanity was a normal Tuesday evening for him.

Everything was replayed in my mind, and I could not help but curse my luck further.

After a moment I straightened, opened my laptop, and stared at the blank screen. Nothing came, I really couldn’t forget the way Lucien had possessively kissed me in the kitchen

I touched my lips still feeling his touch there. My mind kept throwing me back to the kitchen, his tone, his smile, the audacity in his eyes not forgetting Raphael’s shamelessness. Heat crawled up my neck as the memory replayed and replayed until I hated how small it made me feel.

Weirdly his guts and brazen moves turned me on. I was truly losing my mind at this point.

I dragged in a slow breath and forced my attention away from him. I needed to focus. I had a goal, and not the dramatic Playboy who wasn’t meant to live rent-free in my head.

"I need a plan," I muttered staring at the blank screen as my thoughts shifted to what I discovered in Raphael’s study. New Horizons group. They might be his biggest rival and soon-to-be my ally. An enemy of an enemy is a friend.

For now, my priority was gathering information on Killian Orlov, not drowning in Raphael-inflicted humiliation or Lucien’s brazen seduction.

I reached for my drawer to pull out my investigation notepad. I needed to take some notes, but instead, my fingers landed on an old envelope. Gregor’s letter from the will reading. I had completely forgotten it even existed. Too much had been happening; too much chaos, too much emotional wreckage.

I hesitated, then picked it up. My fingers pried open the envelope, and I pulled out the handwritten letter.

His handwriting stared back at me, I recognised the familiar curves and remembered how I praised Gregor about how neatly he writes. I remembered he gave a letter to his 3 children. I wondered what he wrote to them.

A lump rose in my throat as I leaned back in my chair and unfolded the paper.

*******

My dear Braelyn,

If you are reading this, then I am no longer there to explain the things you deserved to know long ago. For that, I must begin with an apology.

Certain truths from you not out of malice, but out of love and fear. Life is complicated, not everything is white and black. I wished I could tell you everything, but I made a vow to Dominic, your father, and I also understood his conviction.

Your father believed you had already endured enough pain, and some burdens felt too heavy to place on your young shoulders. Whether he was right or wrong, time will judge, but his intentions were never meant to hurt you. I had to respect his wishes but I wish to give you a few words

Before anything else, I want you to know this: your parents cherished you more than their own lives. Your father adored you with every breath, and your mother, sweet Avelina, was counting down the days to finally hold you. It is one of my deepest regrets that she never got that chance. She loved you before she even knew your face.

I can only imagine what you must think of Raphael at this point. You both seem to be in love, and I hope it is true. No love is perfect as it has its trials. Who am I to even speak of love when I betrayed my late wife?

But your father and I shared one belief, perhaps the only belief we were ever stubbornly united on was that Raphael is the only man capable of protecting you in ways neither of us ever could. We prayed you would one day find happiness with him and finally complete your family.

It is a shame neither of us got to see your children but I am certain one day you will hold your baby. Don’t let anyone use your mother’s case against you. You are Braelyn Volkov and not Avelina Aldersheim.

Yes, I know that may sound strange, even impossible, but I hope with time you understand why I say this.

Whatever happens, whatever truths you uncover, do not doubt that you were loved unconditionally. Trust Raphael, even if he makes it difficult. And trust that your parents wanted nothing but a safe, gentle life for you.

There is one more thing I must tell you. Your parents owned a property, a place they treasured. They visited every year until your father lost your mother. It was a place your father always intended to take you but never had the chance.

The details are in your father’s will, the address is also indicated behind the letter including who to call if you plan on visiting, and I urge you to visit it. I think you will understand them better once you step into that space.

Inside this envelope, I’ve left a photograph. An old keepsake I have had for a while, and I felt it was only right that you have it. There were things he wished he could explain to himself, sacrifices he made that you may one day come to learn. All of them, I assure you, were born from love.

I hope life grants you peace, my dear little Brae. I hope you find the joy that was always meant to be yours.

With love,

Grandpa Gregor.

*****

I blinked, unable to process what I just read, then turned the letter. An address was truly close to the place Lucien intended to travel to for business.

I lowered the letter slowly, my mind spinning. None of it made sense, not the warnings or the reassurance or even the strange insistence about Raphael. It was as if he knew things would fall apart. Why was he desperate I stuck with Raphael? I wondered

With shaking fingers, I opened the envelope again and a single photograph slipped out, worn at the edges. It was a group picture, my parents were standing close together, smiling at something beyond the frame. Dated a year before I was born.

I stared at it, my breath uneven, confusion tightening around my chest.

What did Gregor mean about sacrifices? And why did his words make a fear I couldn’t explain to settle deep in my bones?

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