Chapter 4 - The Man Standing Closest to Him
Adrian had spent the first thirty-six years of his life believing his uncle had saved him.
That belief had been more powerful than blood.
Victor had been there when Adrian's father died.
He had taken care of the funeral.
Paid Adrian's school fees.
Taught him how to defend himself.
Taught him which businessmen were honest.
Taught him which politicians lied.
When Adrian eventually took control of the family empire, Victor never challenged him.
He advised.
He warned.
He protected.
Or so Adrian had thought.
Now every memory had become evidence.
The next morning, Adrian called Victor.
“Come to the estate.”
Victor answered without hesitation.
“Of course.”
Adrian hung up.
Claire looked at him.
“He's coming.”
“Good.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Ask him the truth.”
“And if he lies?”
Adrian looked at her.
“He will.”
Three hours later, Victor arrived alone.
He walked into the study carrying a leather briefcase.
He smiled at Adrian.
Then at Claire.
“My niece.”
Claire felt uneasy.
Victor had never called her that before.
“You never knew me.”
“I knew enough.”
Adrian stepped forward.
“Close the door.”
Victor did.
“What is this about?”
Adrian placed the photograph on the desk.
The one showing Claire's father.
Victor looked at it.
Something flickered in his eyes.
Fear.
Claire saw it.
“So you recognize it,” she said.
Victor nodded.
“Of course.”
“Who's the man wearing your ring?”
Victor stared at her.
Then he laughed.
“You really are your father's daughter.”
Adrian's voice turned cold.
“Answer her.”
Victor put down his briefcase.
“The man wasn't me.”
“Who was he?”
“Vincent Cross.”
Claire's pulse quickened.
“Who was Vincent Cross?”
Victor looked at Adrian.
“Your father’s biggest mistake.”
Adrian stared.
“You knew him.”
“Yes.”
“Who is he?”
Victor's face hardened.
“My real name is Victor Cross.”
Silence.
Claire looked at Adrian.
Adrian's expression was unreadable.
“Cross?”
Victor nodded.
“Vincent was my older brother.”
Adrian stepped forward.
“Then why does our family know you as Victor Caruso?”
“Because your father gave me the Caruso name.”
“Why?”
Victor's eyes hardened.
“Because I needed somewhere to hide.”
Claire looked at him.
“From whom?”
Victor looked at her.
“Your father.”
She stopped.
“My father?”
“He discovered what Vincent was doing.”
“What was he doing?”
“Selling people.”
The room went silent.
Victor explained.
Vincent Cross had built a network that moved vulnerable people through fake employment agencies, fraudulent charities, and shell companies.
Adrian's father had unknowingly invested in one of those businesses.
When the truth emerged, he tried to get out.
Vincent threatened him.
Adrian's father went to Claire's father for help.
That was how the Bennett family became involved.
Claire shook her head.
“Then why did my father die?”
“Because he found the ledger.”
“The one everyone keeps talking about.”
Victor nodded.
“And he hid it.”
“Where?”
Victor looked at Claire.
“Your mother knows.”
Claire's heart pounded.
“You know where my mother is?”
“No.”
“Liar.”
“I know where she was.”
Victor opened the briefcase.
Inside was a passport.
A photograph of Claire's mother.
And one address.
A small town in Maine.
Claire stared.
“Why didn't you tell me?”
Victor's face softened.
“Because I was trying to protect you.”
Adrian laughed bitterly.
“You sound like us.”
Victor looked at him.
“I was protecting you, too.”
“You lied to me for twenty years.”
“I lied because the truth would have killed you.”
Adrian's jaw clenched.
“Did you kill Michael?”
Victor looked directly at him.
“No.”
“Did you order his death?”
“No.”
“Did you know he was going to die?”
Victor hesitated.
That hesitation was enough.
Claire whispered.
“You knew.”
Victor closed his eyes.
“I suspected.”
Adrian's expression became terrifyingly calm.
“Who did it?”
“I don't know.”
“Then why didn't you stop it?”
“Because the killer wasn't working for me.”
Adrian stared.
“Who?”
Victor shook his head.
“Not yet.”
“Now.”
Victor reached inside his jacket.
Adrian's gun appeared instantly.
Victor stopped.
He slowly removed another photograph.
A man.
Older.
Silver hair.
Dark eyes.
Adrian stared.
“I know him.”
Claire looked.
“Who?”
“My father.”
Victor nodded.
“Your father's alive.”
Claire looked at Adrian.
He was already reaching for his phone.
The phone rang.
Unknown number.
Adrian answered.
A man's voice came through.
“You should have left your uncle alone.”
Adrian's expression changed.
“You're James Caruso.”
A pause.
“Yes.”
Claire felt her blood turn cold.
Adrian's father had been dead for eighteen years.
“You're alive.”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
The line went silent.
Then James said:
“With the people who own Michael's killer.”
The call ended.
Adrian stood frozen.
Victor whispered.
“That's why I couldn't tell you.”
Claire looked at him.
“Who owns them?”
Victor's face was grim.
“Your father's ledger does.”
A sudden crash came from downstairs.
Adrian turned.
Gunfire.
He pushed Claire behind the desk.
“Stay here.”
Men stormed the hall.
Dominic returned fire.
Victor grabbed a weapon.
Claire stared.
“You're helping us?”
Victor looked at her.
“I always have.”
“Then prove it.”
Victor ran toward the hall.
Five minutes later, the shooting stopped.
Three attackers were dead.
Two escaped.
Victor was wounded in the shoulder.
Adrian approached him.
“You could have run.”
Victor smiled weakly.
“I'm old.”
“You're not that old.”
“Then maybe I still care.”
Claire knelt beside him.
“Tell me one thing.”
Victor looked at her.
“Where is my mother?”
Victor's eyes filled with something close to sadness.
“The answer is written in Michael's last gift.”
Claire frowned.
“The key?”
“Yes.”
“The key opens what?”
Victor whispered.
“A box.”
“What box?”
“The box your mother gave your father before she disappeared.”
Adrian looked at Claire.
“Find the key.”
Claire pulled it from her pocket.
Victor nodded.
“Not yet.”
“Why?”
“Because when you open it, everyone who has been hiding will start running.”
May you like
He looked toward Adrian.
“And the person standing closest to you will finally choose a side.”
