Page 8 of Secrets, Lies and Love

“Zeus, I’ll be fine. Enjoy your woman. You have my word that I will call if anything goes wrong.”

I barely have time to end the call before Hades stops next to me.

“Who is she?” he asks without even greeting me. “I spoke to Anderson, and he assured me that the woman threw herself in front of the car. That is very suspicious.”

My brother lives up to his namesake: he doesn’t forgive and he destroys the lives of those he considers enemies. He’s incapable of feeling empathy for anyone other than our family, and I think that even so, it’s because of blood, not because it comes naturally to him.

“We don’t know yet. It is being investigated. Zeus will check the footage, but before you start with your conspiracy theories, she’s a girl, Hades. Or at least, that’s what it seemed to me in the short time I was close to her.”

“And? Does lack of character have an age?”

“Jesus, where did you get that conclusion from? You’re getting worse every day. Just because you made one mistake in your judgment doesn’t mean that everyone in your path will be like that. You need to move on.”

“Never. Not until I destroy them both.”

“You already destroyed them.”

“Not yet. She would need to stay where she is for a long time to receive the punishment she deserves.”

“I won’t discuss this matter with you. You’re obsessed.”

“I didn’t come here to talk about Juliet or that son of a bitch. I came here to see if you need anything.”

“Not for the time being.”

“Well, then I’ll be going now,” he says in a bad mood, and I know it’s because I brought up the topic that has tormented him for years.

“Hades, I’m not trying to make your life hell. Can you understand that?”

He’s already walking away, but he looks back at me. “No one can make my life hell, Dionysus. I already live in it. I’m the lord of the underworld, or have you forgotten?”

He’s not being ironic. I think that’s really where his soul is trapped.

“Mr. Kostanidis?” a man’s voice calls me as soon as my brother leaves.

I turn to see who it is, and it happens to be a doctor and a nurse. “How can I help you?”

“Good evening. I’m Doctor Roswell, the person responsible for the care of...” He frowns, and I realize he doesn’t know the girl’s name either. “From what we could ascertain, it’s nothing serious. She only has slight bruises. We ran all the tests, including a CT scan of her head. She’s fine.”

“Can I see her?”

“It would be better to come back tomorrow. I ordered her to be sedated because she was very anxious.”

“Where can I check her name? I need to notify the family.”

“All documents were taken to the reception. They’re doing her file right now, so we know who”—he coughs, embarrassed—"we should charge.”

“Don’t worry about that. All expenses will be on me. I want her to have the best care. I’ll come back tomorrow to see her. Don’t discharge her before I arrive.”

I enter the elevator, followed by my bodyguards, and head straight to the reception.

“I need information about the patient in room eight hundred and four,” I tell the attendant.

“Are you related to the patient?”

I clench my jaw, even though I know the employee’s question is valid. “I’mresponsiblefor her,” I reply, without leaving room for discussion.

The woman is unfazed. She folds her hands on the reception desk and looks at me. “What type of information do you want?”

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