Chapter 4 - The Vault of Truth
Damian’s face went through three colors in five seconds.
"Laura! It’s... it’s not what it sounds like!"
"I can explain everything!"
I looked at him with a pity that surprised even me.
"You can explain it to the police, Damian."
"And you can explain it to the District Attorney."
"I’ve already sent the recording to the precinct."
"And the records of your bigamy."
The fake doctor tried to run for the door.
He didn't get far.
The front door burst open, and two officers were already there.
Damian tried to lung at me, but my father—the retired mechanic with the "weak heart"—grabbed his arm.
He twisted it with a strength that came from forty years of turning wrenches.
"Don't even think about it," my father growled.
The police cuffed Damian and his accomplice.
As they were being led out, Damian looked back at me.
The greed was still there, burning in his eyes.
"You'll never find it, Laura!" he yelled.
"The vault is mine! I’ve been hunting it since before I met you!"
The house was finally quiet.
My father sat back down at the walnut table.
He looked older, but the weight of the secret seemed to have lifted.
"Is it true, Dad?" I asked.
"Is there really a vault under the furnace?"
He looked at me for a long time.
"Your grandfather was a jeweler, Laura. That part is true."
"And he did have a mystery."
"But he didn't hide diamonds."
"Come with me."
We went down into the dark, damp basement.
We moved to the corner, behind the old rusted furnace.
My father pulled back a heavy piece of plywood.
There, set into the concrete, was a small, iron door.
It looked like a safe from the nineteenth century.
"Damian spent months trying to find the combination," my father said.
"He used ultrasound. He used stethoscopes."
"He thought it was full of stones."
My father reached out and turned the dial.
Left 12. Right 24. Left 36.
The dates of my parents’ wedding anniversary.
The door clicked open.
I held my breath, expecting the glitter of a thousand gems.
Instead, I saw stacks of old, yellowed envelopes.
And a small, black notebook.
"Your grandfather wasn't hiding a fortune," my father said.
"He was hiding a ledger."
"A ledger of every bribe and kickback paid to the city officials in the 1950s."
"The people Damian was working for... they didn't want diamonds."
"They wanted this book."
"Because the names in here? They're the grandfathers of the men who run Apex Horizon Assets today."
I looked at the book.
Damian hadn't been hunting for wealth.
He had been hunting for blackmail.
He had been sent by the descendants of criminals to bury their past.
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And he had used my heart as his shovel.
***
