Chapter 2 - My Dead Father Walked Into the Evidence Room
I didn't sleep that night.
Neither did Claire.
We spent the next six hours inside a private conference room beneath Blackridge's Manhattan headquarters with every monitor turned off except one.
I spread the photographs across the table.
Claire sat opposite me.
Her black glasses were back on.
Her hair was tied again.
The woman from the ballroom seemed to have disappeared.
She was the Claire everyone knew.
Or the Claire I had assumed I knew.
"Tell me exactly what you believe."
She looked at the photograph of my father.
"I believe your father survived the boating accident three years ago."
"Impossible."
"The wreckage was never recovered."
"His body was."
"No. A body was identified as him."
I stared at her.
"By who?"
"Your uncle."
"Desmond."
"Yes."
I leaned back.
My father, Henry Mercer, had supposedly died three years ago.
A storm.
A damaged yacht.
One body.
One funeral.
One empire passed into my hands.
Evan had stood beside me through all of it.
Claire tapped the photograph.
"Your father's death was the first lie."
I looked at the second photo.
Evan.
Northbridge.
The sealed case.
"What was inside?"
"I don't know."
"Then why show me this?"
"Because the case appeared again."
She placed another photograph on the table.
The same case.
Different warehouse.
Different night.
A month ago.
A man carrying it into one of Blackridge's private storage facilities.
The man was Evan.
I rubbed my forehead.
"Why didn't you bring this to me before?"
"Because I didn't know whether you were involved."
That hurt.
"Involved how?"
"Your father may not have died."
She looked directly at me.
"And if he didn't, then someone in Blackridge is powerful enough to fabricate his death, hide millions in transactions, manipulate law enforcement records, and keep you unaware for three years."
I said nothing.
Claire continued.
"That means either your cousin is a genius, or he's working with people much more powerful than him."
I looked at the clock.
5:18 a.m.
"What do you want me to do?"
"Nothing."
I frowned.
"Nothing?"
"Let him think you still know nothing."
"You expect me to sit quietly?"
"Yes."
"I don't do quiet."
"I know."
She pushed her glasses up.
"That's why I'm asking."
I almost laughed.
"You're giving me orders now?"
"Someone has to."
For some reason, that made me smile.
Claire looked surprised.
It was the first time I'd smiled around her without trying to.
Then the conference room door opened.
Evan walked in.
I froze.
He smiled.
"Morning."
Claire didn't turn.
"What are you doing here?"
He looked at me.
"Roman, I thought we should talk."
"About?"
"Last night."
I studied him.
"You're worried?"
"No."
"Then why?"
He sat.
"Because Claire Bennett isn't who she says she is."
She didn't react.
I did.
"What do you mean?"
Evan leaned back.
"Her resume is fake."
Claire looked at him for the first time.
"Is it?"
He smiled.
"Your brother didn't die three years ago."
Her face changed.
"You've investigated me."
"Of course."
Evan placed a file on the table.
"Your real name isn't Claire Bennett."
I glanced at her.
"That's your real name, right?"
She nodded.
"Yes."
Evan opened the file.
"Then explain this."
A birth record.
A different surname.
Bennett remained.
But the middle name was different.
I looked at Claire.
"What is this?"
She exhaled.
"My mother's maiden name."
Evan smiled.
"So you lied."
"No."
She closed the file.
"I changed one detail on a background form because someone was looking for my family."
Evan looked at me.
"See?"
I didn't.
Instead, I saw something else.
Evan wasn't accusing her because he had found a lie.
He was testing whether I would defend her.
I stood.
"Leave."
His expression hardened.
"Roman."
"Leave."
He looked at Claire.
Then back at me.
"You're making a mistake."
"Maybe."
He stood.
"Your father would agree with me."
The room went still.
I watched his face.
"How do you know what my father would say?"
Evan smiled faintly.
"Because I knew him too."
Then he left.
Claire waited until the door shut.
"You believed me."
"Not completely."
She nodded.
"Good."
"Why is your middle name hidden?"
"My father changed it when I was seventeen."
"Why?"
"Because my brother found something."
"What?"
She looked at the evidence.
"The first financial ledger."
I frowned.
"What ledger?"
"The one Northbridge uses."
I understood slowly.
She had not been investigating my company.
She had been tracing a network.
"How big?"
"Across four states."
"And my father?"
"Your father was trying to expose it."
My chair scraped the floor as I stood.
"Why didn't he tell me?"
"Maybe because he wanted to protect you."
"By pretending to die?"
"Maybe he was forced."
I walked to the window.
Manhattan was waking below us.
Millions of people moving through the city.
Cars.
Subways.
Delivery trucks.
Nobody knew that the CEO of Blackridge was standing forty floors above the street trying to determine whether his dead father had been alive for three years.
Claire approached.
"There is something else."
I turned.
"My brother left me a message the week before he died."
"What did it say?"
"Don't trust the person who mourns the loudest."
I thought about the funeral.
About Evan.
He had cried harder than I had.
He had stayed beside my mother.
He had spoken at my father's service.
And he had never stopped reminding me how much my father had loved me.
I suddenly felt sick.
Claire placed one more envelope on the table.
"Open it."
Inside was a bank statement.
Payments from a shell company to Evan.
Monthly.
Six figures.
For thirty-one months.
The transfers stopped six weeks ago.
"Why?"
"Because something changed."
"What?"
"He stopped receiving money and started moving cash."
"Where?"
"To Savannah."
I frowned.
"Why Savannah?"
"I don't know."
I looked at her.
"We're going."
"No."
I smiled.
"You've been telling me what to do all night."
"And now I'm telling you not to do the stupid thing you are planning."
"I'm going."
"Then I'm coming."
"You have no obligation."
"I know."
"Then why?"
Claire's expression softened.
"Because whatever is in Savannah is connected to your father."
Three hours later, our plane landed.
We went directly to a small industrial property owned by one of Blackridge's shell companies.
It looked abandoned.
Claire found a hidden keypad.
The door opened.
Inside was a room filled with files.
Shipment records.
Bank statements.
Photographs.
And a video monitor.
Claire plugged in a drive.
The screen flickered.
A man appeared.
My father.
Older.
Thinner.
Alive.
"Roman," he said.
My knees nearly gave out.
"If you're watching this, I failed to protect you."
I stepped closer.
My father continued.
"I am alive. I stayed hidden because the person who ordered my death is inside our family."
Claire looked at me.
Then my father said the words that shattered everything.
"Evan knows."
The video ended.
I couldn't breathe.
My cousin knew.
My father was alive.
And Claire had known there was a chance all along.
I turned toward her.
"How much did you know?"
She looked at me.
"Not enough."
I wanted to believe her.
I needed to.
Then a gunshot shattered the window.
Claire screamed.
I grabbed her and pulled her behind the desk.
Another shot.
Then silence.
A folded note was pushed beneath the door.
Claire picked it up.
She read it.
"What?"
She looked at me.
"Your father wants you to stop looking."
"Why?"
May you like
She handed me the note.
Because they will kill Claire next.
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