Chapter 6 - THE DEAD PATRIARCH
Christopher stared at the image until Juliette took the phone from his hand.
She looked at the photograph.
Her face went white.
“I’ve never seen him.”
Christopher barely heard her.
Malcolm Pierce had died from pancreatic cancer five years earlier.
Christopher attended the funeral.
He carried the casket.
He stood beside Estelle at the cemetery.
He watched the coffin lowered into the ground.
Yet the photograph had been captured less than an hour ago.
Yvette came into the room.
Christopher silently showed her.
She staggered backward.
“No.”
“You recognize him?”
“Yes.”
“Could it be someone else?”
Yvette stared.
“No.”
Christopher turned toward Dr. Vale.
“You said Rachel’s guardian order was arranged by Estelle.”
“Yes.”
“Was Malcolm involved?”
“I never met him.”
Christopher’s mind raced.
His father’s supposed death happened one year after Rachel’s crash.
If Malcolm had survived, the entire Pierce family history for the past five years was manufactured.
Christopher called the family cemetery director.
No answer.
He called the physician who signed Malcolm’s death certificate.
The number had been disconnected.
He searched the name.
Dr. Leonard Shaw.
Retired.
Living overseas.
Christopher laughed quietly.
Of course.
Every loose end had been moved.
Juliette watched him.
“What are you going to do?”
Christopher put the phone away.
“Get my daughter.”
“You can’t just storm a private clinic.”
“No.”
Christopher looked at the security chief.
“But the state police can.”
They moved before dawn.
Vermont authorities obtained an emergency welfare order based on the recordings.
Christopher flew separately.
The journey felt endless.
Every minute meant Emma was with two people she believed were dead or dangerous.
At 5:42 a.m., they reached North House.
The property sat deep among pine forests.
No sign marked the road.
A stone wall surrounded the estate.
Police entered first.
Christopher waited behind them.
Ten minutes passed.
Then twenty.
An officer finally returned.
“Mr. Pierce.”
Christopher stepped forward.
“Where is my daughter?”
“They’re gone.”
His stomach dropped.
“All of them?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“Approximately forty minutes ago.”
Christopher looked toward the driveway.
“How?”
“There’s an underground vehicle exit behind the property.”
Of course there was.
Christopher entered the building.
North House looked luxurious.
Fireplaces.
Libraries.
Guest rooms.
No obvious medical equipment.
Then police opened a locked basement corridor.
Everything changed.
White rooms.
Observation windows.
Medical restraints.
Pharmaceutical cabinets.
Christopher walked slowly.
“This isn’t rehabilitation.”
Dr. Vale, who had joined the police as a consultant, looked sick.
“No.”
They found records.
Most had been burned.
One file remained inside a locked desk.
RACHEL MONROE.
Christopher opened it.
Pages documented medications.
Memory therapy.
Isolation periods.
Behavioral notes.
Repeated attempts to contact Christopher.
One line appeared again and again.
PATIENT INSISTS ESTELLE PIERCE ATTEMPTED TO KILL HER.
Christopher looked at Vale.
“She remembered.”
“Apparently.”
Another note.
PATIENT CLAIMS MALCOLM PIERCE REMOVED HER FROM VEHICLE BEFORE SECOND IMPACT.
Christopher stared.
“What does that mean?”
Vale read.
“It suggests the crash happened in stages.”
Christopher turned the page.
PATIENT STATES VEHICLE WAS INTENTIONALLY STRUCK AFTER SHE WAS REMOVED.
“What?”
Vale looked horrified.
“They staged the fatal crash after taking her out.”
Christopher kept reading.
PATIENT CLAIMS M. PIERCE PROMISED CHILD WOULD REMAIN SAFE IF PATIENT COOPERATED.
Christopher’s chest tightened.
His father had saved Rachel.
Then helped imprison her.
Why?
The next page gave an answer.
PATIENT REFUSES TO REVEAL LOCATION OF SLOAN DOCUMENTS.
Christopher looked at Yvette.
“Samuel’s evidence.”
Yvette nodded.
“Rachel knew.”
The final note was dated three years earlier.
VANE RECOMMENDS PERMANENT COGNITIVE SUPPRESSION.
AUTHORIZATION DENIED BY M. PIERCE.
Christopher stopped.
His father had stopped Vane from destroying Rachel’s mind.
Maybe Malcolm was not working with Estelle.
Or maybe he simply needed Rachel functional enough to find Samuel’s evidence.
Nothing was clear anymore.
A police officer called from down the hall.
“We found something.”
Christopher followed.
A small bedroom contained children’s clothes.
Fresh clothes.
Emma’s size.
On the bedside table sat a glass of milk.
Still warm.
She had been there minutes earlier.
Christopher noticed a piece of paper beneath the glass.
He lifted it.
Emma’s handwriting.
DADDY CAME.
Christopher’s heart stopped.
He turned the paper over.
More words.
NOT YOU.
Christopher stared.
Yvette covered her mouth.
Emma thought someone else was Christopher.
Or someone told her another man was her father.
Christopher looked around.
A security camera hung above the door.
“Get the footage.”
Police recovered the local server.
Most footage had been erased.
One clip remained.
Emma sat on the bed.
Estelle stood beside her.
Malcolm entered.
Emma stared at him.
“Who are you?”
Malcolm knelt.
“I’m your grandfather.”
“You’re dead.”
Malcolm smiled sadly.
“People tell children many things.”
Emma looked at Estelle.
“Grandma said Daddy hurt Juliette.”
Malcolm’s smile vanished.
He looked at Estelle.
“You told her that?”
Estelle answered calmly.
“She needed to cooperate.”
Malcolm stood.
“You were instructed not to frighten her.”
Estelle’s expression hardened.
“Do not instruct me.”
Christopher leaned closer to the screen.
His parents were not allies.
At least not anymore.
Emma asked.
“Where is my daddy?”
Malcolm looked at her.
“He’s coming.”
Estelle reacted.
“No.”
Malcolm turned.
“This ends now.”
Estelle laughed.
“You don’t decide when anything ends.”
Malcolm stepped closer.
“I decided six years ago when I pulled Rachel from that car.”
Christopher froze.
There it was.
Confirmation.
Estelle’s face hardened.
“You should have left her inside.”
Malcolm stared at her.
“You arranged the collision.”
“And you ruined everything by saving her.”
Emma began crying.
Malcolm immediately softened.
Estelle watched him with contempt.
Then she said something Christopher couldn’t hear.
The audio cut out.
Malcolm looked shocked.
He turned toward Emma.
Then toward the camera.
The footage ended.
Christopher slammed the desk.
“Recover the rest.”
The technician shook his head.
“It’s corrupted.”
“Try again.”
“We will.”
Christopher looked at Emma’s note.
NOT YOU.
He wondered whether she meant something else.
Maybe she had been trying to tell him that Malcolm claimed Christopher was not her father.
The security chief entered.
“We found tire tracks heading east.”
“Follow them.”
“We did.”
“And?”
“They stop at an abandoned airstrip.”
Christopher’s blood ran cold.
“Aircraft?”
“A small jet departed before dawn.”
“Flight plan?”
“None.”
Christopher looked at the map.
“Radar?”
“Authorities are checking.”
His phone rang.
Unknown number.
Christopher answered.
No voice.
Only breathing.
Then a little whisper.
“Daddy?”
Christopher closed his eyes.
“Emma.”
“Daddy.”
“I’m here.”
She began crying.
“Where are you?”
“I don’t know.”
“Look around.”
“Grandpa said not to.”
Christopher heard Malcolm’s voice in the background.
“Emma.”
The line went silent.
Then Malcolm spoke.
“Christopher.”
Christopher gripped the phone.
“Give me my daughter.”
“She is safer with me than with your mother.”
“I don’t trust either of you.”
“You shouldn’t.”
“Where are you?”
“I can’t tell you.”
“Then I’m calling police.”
“Police cannot protect her.”
Christopher looked at the officers around him.
“You expect me to believe you?”
“No.”
Malcolm’s voice sounded tired.
“I expect you to remember what your mother is capable of.”
“You faked your death.”
“To stay alive.”
“You imprisoned Rachel.”
“To keep her alive.”
“You let me believe she was dead.”
“To keep Emma alive.”
Christopher almost shouted.
“Stop saying that.”
Malcolm went quiet.
Christopher forced his voice lower.
“You don’t get to use protection as an excuse for stealing years from us.”
“I know.”
“Then bring Emma back.”
“I can’t.”
“Why?”
“Because your mother is not the greatest threat.”
Christopher stared ahead.
“Who is?”
Malcolm hesitated.
Then answered.
“You.”
Christopher felt the room disappear around him.
“What?”
“Emma cannot turn seven while legally recognized as your daughter.”
Christopher looked at the trust.
“Because of the shares.”
“No.”
Malcolm’s voice changed.
“The shares are the distraction.”
Christopher stopped breathing.
“What happens when she turns seven?”
Malcolm spoke slowly.
“Something Samuel discovered.”
“Something Rachel protected.”
“Something your mother killed to control.”
Christopher tightened his grip.
“What?”
Malcolm answered.
“The Pierce trust does not transfer only money.”
Christopher waited.
“It transfers ownership of every concealed account Samuel documented.”
Christopher looked at the ledger.
Malcolm continued.
“And those accounts contain assets belonging to people who will do anything to keep their names hidden.”
“How many people?”
“Judges.”
“Ministers.”
“Bankers.”
“Defense contractors.”
“Governors.”
Christopher looked at the pages again.
Malcolm’s voice dropped.
“If Emma turns seven as controlling heir, the encrypted beneficiary archive automatically releases to her legal guardian.”
Christopher froze.
“Me.”
“Yes.”
Christopher finally understood.
Everyone wasn’t fighting over a mansion.
They were fighting over evidence.
Evidence powerful enough to destroy careers.
Governments.
Companies.
Families.
Christopher whispered.
“That’s why Rachel was targeted.”
“Yes.”
“And Samuel.”
“Yes.”
“And Emma.”
“Yes.”
Christopher closed his eyes.
“Where is Rachel?”
Malcolm remained silent.
“Dad.”
“She’s alive.”
“Where?”
“I can’t tell you.”
“Why?”
“Because she doesn’t trust you.”
Christopher felt the words like a knife.
“She thinks I’m involved?”
“She doesn’t know.”
Christopher looked at his reflection in the dark window.
“Put her on.”
“I can’t.”
“Why?”
Malcolm hesitated.
Then Christopher heard a woman’s voice in the background.
Faint.
Unmistakable.
“Christopher?”
His knees almost gave way.
“Rachel.”
Silence.
Then she whispered.
“Don’t come looking for us.”
Christopher closed his eyes.
“Rachel.”
“You need to stay away from Emma.”
His heart broke.
“Why?”
Rachel started crying.
“Because they changed the trust.”
Christopher frowned.
“What?”
“The legal guardian doesn’t receive the archive anymore.”
Christopher stared.
“Who does?”
Rachel answered.
“The biological father.”
Christopher almost laughed from disbelief.
“That’s me.”
Rachel went silent.
Christopher felt dread rising.
“Rachel.”
She whispered.
“No.”
Christopher froze.
“What do you mean?”
Rachel’s voice broke.
“You’re Emma’s father in every way that matters.”
Christopher stopped breathing.
“But biologically…”
She couldn’t finish.
He stared at the floor.
“Who?”
Rachel whispered one name.
“Adrian.”
The call ended.
May you like
And for the second time that morning, Christopher’s entire identity collapsed.
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