Page 141 of Blind Prophet

He gestures for me to enter the cabin, and I do as requested.

“It’s better to view the video outside of the sun’s harsh glare.”

I squint into the interior. Black and yellow spots mingle as my eyes adjust from the transition of bright to dim lighting.

A black screen flicks to life.

“Have a seat,” Geoffrey encourages as the yacht rolls over a wave. My knees are locked, and I can withstand the roll of the boat easily, but I comply, taking the seat as instructed.

Luke remains at my back, although he holsters his gun.

Dorian appears on the screen, standing before a podium. His Adam’s apple appears abnormally large at this angle, or maybe it’s how the collar hits his throat. There’s something off about the image, but I can’t trust my perception when I might be suffering from a concussion.

“Oh, the sound’s not working,” Geoffrey says, and he clicks a button on a remote.

Dorian’s deep voice fills the cabin.

“It is a great honor to accept the position of chief of staff.”

My fingers dig into the leather armrests as Dorian’s face fills the screen. He looks different—polished, distant, wearing a bespoke custom suit. The man on screen bears little resemblance to the one I just saw at Ryan’s office. His hair is shorter, as if he had a trim, and a make-up artist worked to give him color under the harsh spotlight.

As he speaks about accepting the chief of staff position, my chest tightens. This can’t be right. The timeline doesn’t make sense.

“In light of recent domestic attacks, I will move to assume the role as quickly as possible. The first action I will take is to step away from any business investments that may represent a conflict of interest. Effective immediately, I will set my investments into a trust and step down from my board seats in Bedrock and Zenith. Times of uncertainty require strong leadership, and this is what I intend to provide for our country. May we all stand united in the face of our enemies. God bless the United States of America.”

The video ends.

“Would you care to read his social posts?”

“Social posts?”

“His statements on X, Truth Social, and BlueSky.”

“Dorian doesn’t tweet.” Although, he does employ a PR firm. I suppose they could have a slew of posts and press releases on the ready for an event such as this.

But I just saw him. None of this makes sense. He was in Ryan’s office as recently as a few hours ago. How is any of this possible?

“Caroline, when faced with a choice, we all knew what Dorian would choose. You aren’t surprised, are you, dear?”

I stare at Geoffrey, mind racing. The Dorian I just saw in Colorado was struggling with migraines, fighting to keep his company afloat amid mysterious attacks. The man in this video looks healthier, confident, almost like a different person altogether.

Either this video is old, or it’s not really Dorian. Or worse—everything he shared with me was a lie.

CHAPTER36

DORIAN

The windowless room feels like a trap closing around me. I’m acutely aware of the armed suit by the door—the only barrier between me and finding Caroline.

The screen flickers to life. Geoffrey appears with snow-capped mountains behind him—the view from our father’s Colorado office. But something’s off. The edges around his figure shimmer slightly against the background. He’s using a filter to disguise his actual location.

“Hello, little brother,” he says with a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes.

“Do you have Caroline?”

“I do.” Static crosses over the video before fading to black. “Please put the headset on.”

The suit, gun still trained on me, fingers my ears, checking for a device, then passes me a wireless headset with earpieces that will cover my ears entirely.

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