Chapter 6 - THE MAN MY FATHER TOLD ME TO TRUST
Victor did not defend himself immediately.
That frightened me.
Grant moved away from the table.
Celeste moved closer to me.
The security officers outside could not hear the recording through the soundproof walls.
For the first time since entering Kingsgate, Victor looked vulnerable.
“Mara.”
I stepped backward.
“Don’t.”
“Your father was under enormous pressure when he recorded that.”
“So he imagined you?”
“No.”
“Then explain.”
Victor looked toward Ellie.
“We should not do this in front of her.”
I hated that he was right.
I called one of the female security officers inside.
Her name was Rebecca Shaw.
I had known her since childhood.
“Take Ellie upstairs.”
Grant immediately stood.
“No.”
Rebecca looked at me.
I nodded.
“She stays on the property.”
Grant stepped forward.
“I said no.”
I turned toward him.
“You no longer make decisions for her.”
His face hardened.
But he stopped.
I kissed Ellie.
“Go get something to eat with Miss Rebecca.”
Ellie looked between us.
“Are you mad?”
My heart cracked.
“No, sweetheart.”
She touched my cheek.
“Daddy is sad.”
I looked at Grant.
His eyes were wet.
I hated him for making me notice.
Rebecca carried Ellie upstairs.
The moment the door closed, I faced Victor.
“Talk.”
Victor lowered himself into a chair.
“Your father suspected me.”
“That’s obvious.”
“He suspected everyone.”
“Why?”
“Because Lydia’s death changed him.”
Celeste went still.
Victor looked at her.
“Your mother contacted Henry fifteen years after disappearing.”
Celeste whispered.
“Why?”
“She had found evidence that the old Bluebird network had been restarted.”
Grant frowned.
“By who?”
Victor looked toward him.
“A Kingsley executive.”
“Name.”
“We did not know.”
Grant slammed his hand on the table.
“You had decades.”
“And you had eleven months.”
Victor looked back at me.
“Henry believed someone inside the family office had used old structures to hide money.”
“Did you help him investigate?”
“Yes.”
“And did you lie to me?”
“Yes.”
The admission hurt more than denial.
“What did you lie about?”
“Your father’s death.”
Celeste inhaled sharply.
Grant cursed.
I felt nothing.
Perhaps I had reached the limit of shock.
“You knew he survived.”
Victor nodded.
“From the beginning?”
“Yes.”
I closed my eyes.
Every condolence.
Every legal meeting.
Every anniversary.
Every time Victor had told me my father would be proud.
He knew the man was alive.
“Why?”
“Because Henry believed disappearing was the only way to draw the architect out.”
“And I was collateral damage.”
Victor’s voice softened.
“He loved you.”
“Don’t.”
“Mara.”
“Do not use love to excuse that.”
Victor lowered his eyes.
I continued.
“He let me bury him.”
“Yes.”
“He let me grieve.”
“Yes.”
“He let me marry Grant without warning me.”
Victor looked at Grant.
“That was not supposed to happen.”
Grant laughed.
“There it is.”
I turned.
“What does that mean?”
Victor hesitated.
Grant smiled bitterly.
“Tell her.”
Victor remained silent.
Grant stepped closer.
“Your father had already investigated me before we met.”
My stomach tightened.
“That’s impossible.”
“No.”
Grant’s eyes met mine.
“It’s worse.”
Victor spoke.
“Henry arranged your first meeting.”
Silence.
I remembered the charity gala.
Grant spilling champagne near the terrace.
My laughing.
His awkward apology.
The entire relationship that followed.
“You’re saying my father introduced us?”
Victor nodded.
“Indirectly.”
“Why?”
“To observe Grant.”
I looked at my husband.
Grant looked furious.
“My father used me to investigate you.”
“Yes.”
I laughed once.
The sound did not belong to me.
“And you used me to investigate him.”
Grant did not deny it.
Celeste whispered.
“You people are insane.”
She was right.
Victor continued.
“Grant’s father worked at Harbor Twelve.”
Grant’s head snapped toward him.
“What?”
Victor looked surprised.
“You didn’t know?”
Grant’s face changed.
“My father was an accountant.”
“He was the terminal compliance manager.”
Grant stared.
Victor continued.
“He disappeared three days before the fire.”
Grant shook his head.
“No.”
“He changed his name.”
“My father’s name was Michael Mercer.”
“Before that, it was Michael Reeves.”
Grant went pale.
Thomas Reeve.
His attorney.
I noticed the similarity.
Victor saw it too.
Grant whispered.
“No.”
Victor leaned closer.
“Thomas Reeve was your uncle.”
Grant stared.
“That’s impossible.”
“Ask yourself why he represented you for free when you were twenty-two.”
Grant’s breathing became uneven.
“Thomas said he owed my father a favor.”
“He owed your father his life.”
Celeste looked between them.
“What happened at Harbor Twelve?”
Victor opened another archive file.
Photographs appeared.
A shipping terminal.
Burned steel.
Fire crews.
Bodies covered by sheets.
I looked away.
Victor pointed toward an employee roster.
Michael Reeves.
Thomas Reeves.
Two brothers.
Grant stared.
“My father never mentioned a brother.”
“Because Thomas changed the spelling and disappeared.”
Grant leaned against the table.
For the first time, he looked genuinely lost.
Victor continued.
“Your father discovered irregular payments.”
“Like Lydia?”
“Yes.”
“Did he start the fire?”
“No.”
“Did he know who did?”
“We believe so.”
Grant looked up.
“What happened to him?”
Victor’s jaw tightened.
“He was murdered.”
Grant froze.
“My father died of a heart attack.”
Victor shook his head.
“You were seven.”
“I remember the funeral.”
“There was a funeral.”
Grant stared at him.
I recognized the horror.
It was almost identical to what I had felt learning my father’s death was staged.
Our families had both built graves around secrets.
Victor continued.
“Michael was poisoned.”
Grant sat.
He looked suddenly young.
“What?”
“Thomas knew.”
Grant’s voice cracked.
“My mother?”
“She was told it was cardiac failure.”
Grant covered his face.
I hated him.
But I could not enjoy this.
No child deserved to discover their father had been murdered.
Even if that child grew into a man who betrayed his wife.
Celeste leaned against the cabinet.
“So all of us were brought together by dead parents.”
Victor looked at her.
“Not by accident.”
My eyes narrowed.
“What does that mean?”
Victor looked toward the video of my father.
“Henry suspected the architect would eventually approach the descendants of everyone connected to Harbor Twelve.”
“Me.”
“Yes.”
“Grant.”
“Yes.”
“Celeste.”
“Yes.”
“Ellie?”
Victor looked at me.
“Ellie changed everything.”
“How?”
“Because Ellie combines two family lines.”
I frowned.
“Kingsley and Mercer.”
“Yes.”
Grant looked up.
Victor continued.
“Henry believed the architect needed both.”
“For what?”
Victor walked toward another cabinet.
This one opened with my brass key.
Inside was a map.
Shipping routes.
Ports.
Storage facilities.
Old account numbers.
A single title.
PROJECT BLUEBIRD.
Victor pointed to two authorization boxes.
KINGSL EY FAMILY SIGNATORY.
REEVES FAMILY COMPLIANCE SIGNATORY.
Grant stood.
“My father.”
“Yes.”
“To move money through the original network, both signatures were required.”
Celeste frowned.
“Why?”
“The Reeves family was used as a legal shield.”
Grant stared at the papers.
Victor continued.
“When the network was shut down after Harbor Twelve, certain dormant assets remained inaccessible.”
“How much?”
Victor looked at me.
“Approximately eleven billion dollars.”
No one spoke.
Celeste whispered.
“Eleven billion?”
Victor nodded.
“Hidden across trusts, properties, bearer instruments, and offshore insurance structures.”
I stared.
“And Ellie can access it?”
Victor looked toward the ceiling, where my daughter was somewhere upstairs eating crackers.
“Potentially.”
Grant whispered.
“Because she carries Kingsley authority and Mercer blood.”
“Yes.”
My stomach turned.
“So Bluebird beneficiary doesn’t only mean she inherits our legitimate companies.”
“No.”
“It means she can unlock the old network.”
“Yes.”
Grant sat again.
He looked horrified now.
“I didn’t know.”
Victor looked at him.
“I believe you.”
That surprised everyone.
Grant stared.
“You believe me?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because if you had known eleven billion dollars depended on Ellie remaining alive and legally controllable, you never would have staged that lobby incident so publicly.”
I went cold.
Celeste whispered.
“Remaining alive.”
Victor nodded.
“The architect cannot inherit through Ellie.”
“They need her signature structure.”
“But she’s three.”
“The guardian signs.”
I looked at Grant.
He had wanted guardianship.
But perhaps someone else had wanted him to get it.
Someone had fed him evidence.
Someone had manipulated his obsession with my father.
Someone had encouraged him to build the custody case.
Grant suddenly understood too.
“They wanted me to take Ellie.”
Victor nodded.
“And then?”
Grant’s face turned gray.
Victor answered.
“They would remove you.”
“How?”
Victor’s voice became quiet.
“The same way they removed Michael.”
Grant stared.
Celeste covered her mouth.
My satellite phone rang.
Not vibrated.
Rang.
Everyone froze.
Only five people knew the number.
My father had been one of them.
I looked at the screen.
UNKNOWN SECURE CALLER.
Victor whispered.
“Answer it.”
I pressed the button.
“Hello?”
Static.
Then a man’s voice.
Older.
Weak.
Familiar.
“Mara.”
My heart stopped.
I knew that voice.
I had heard it in childhood.
At graduation.
At my wedding.
In dreams after his funeral.
“Dad?”
Grant stared.
Victor went white.
The voice continued.
“Listen carefully.”
Tears blurred my vision.
“Where are you?”
“No time.”
“Dad.”
“They already have the second key.”
“Who?”
A burst of static.
Then my father whispered.
“Victor knows.”
I looked at Victor.
His face collapsed.
“Henry.”
My father’s voice became urgent.
“Get Ellie out of Kingsgate.”
I turned toward the staircase.
“Why?”
A loud crash came from above us.
Then a woman screamed.
Rebecca.
I dropped the phone.
I ran.
Grant was behind me.
Victor shouted for security.
We reached the wine cellar stairs.
Another crash.
Then silence.
I ran faster.
I reached the main floor.
Rebecca was lying near the kitchen entrance.
Conscious.
Bleeding from the forehead.
The back door stood open.
Rain blew inside.
Ellie was gone.
On the floor beside Rebecca lay one blue feather.
And my father’s voice was still coming through the satellite phone.
“Mara.”
“Dad.”
I could barely speak.
“They took Ellie.”
May you like
The line went silent.
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