Chapter 5 - The Father We Buried
The next morning, our father called.
He didn't use a phone.
He used Clara's old number.
A message arrived.
Come to the church on Bell Street.
Come alone.
I showed Adrian.
He shook his head.
"You're not going."
"My father is alive."
"Exactly."
"I need answers."
"Then I'll go with you."
"He told me to come alone."
Adrian's expression hardened.
"That's unfortunate."
We arrived at the church at noon.
The doors were open.
Rows of empty pews.
Sunlight through stained glass.
And at the altar stood our father.
Michael Marlowe.
Older.
Thinner.
Alive.
I couldn't speak.
Clara leaned against her wheelchair.
"You left us."
He looked at us.
"I was protecting you."
"By pretending to be dead?"
"Yes."
"Did you know Mom died?"
His expression broke.
"Yes."
"Did you kill her?"
"No."
"Did Adrian's father?"
"No."
"Then who?"
A voice came from behind us.
"Nathan Cross."
Adrian turned.
A woman stepped out of the shadows.
Maribel Vasile.
Adrian's father's widow.
His mother.
She was holding a gun.
Adrian stared.
"Mother."
She smiled sadly.
"I knew you'd come."
He looked at her weapon.
"You ordered the surveillance."
She nodded.
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Because Elena was carrying something your father wanted."
I frowned.
"What?"
Maribel looked at me.
"Your mother's ledger."
I had no idea what she was talking about.
She continued.
"The key your sister found opens a vault beneath table 17."
My heart raced.
"The restaurant?"
"Yes."
"What's in it?"
"The truth."
Maribel's eyes filled.
"Everything your father did."
She pointed at Michael.
"And everything mine did."
My father looked at Adrian.
"I tried to stop them."
Adrian laughed bitterly.
"You were one of them."
"I know."
Silence.
Then my father looked at me.
"Elena, your mother died because she wanted you to live."
He took out a folded photograph.
I recognized the apartment we had lived in as children.
Behind us was a blue door.
My father said,
"She hid the ledger there."
"The blue room."
He nodded.
"The room where everything began."
We returned to the restaurant after dark.
Table 17 had been empty since Adrian took me away.
He lifted the table.
A hidden compartment existed beneath it.
My hands shook as I inserted the key.
A metal panel opened.
Inside was a ledger.
Photographs.
Bank records.
And a small envelope.
For Elena.
I opened it.
My mother's handwriting filled the page.
My daughter,
If you're reading this, then I wasn't able to protect you myself.
But I need you to understand something.
Your father wasn't the worst man in this story.
Neither was Adrian's father.
The worst man is the one who made both families believe they needed each other to survive.
Nathan Cross.
I stopped.
The next line made my heart pound.
He killed no one directly.
He made us kill each other.
He manipulated everyone.
He caused the fire that killed my husband.
He arranged the deaths.
He staged the betrayals.
And he built the entire operation.
I looked at Adrian.
"He played everyone."
Adrian nodded.
The final page contained one sentence.
Nathan Cross knows the ledger still exists.
The restaurant doors slammed shut.
The lights went out.
Gunfire erupted.
Adrian pushed me beneath the table.
"Stay down!"
Men entered.
His guards returned fire.
The room filled with smoke.
I clutched the ledger.
Then a man grabbed my arm.
I screamed.
Adrian shot him.
He pulled me against his chest.
"Are you hurt?"
"No."
He looked at me.
"Good."
The battle ended.
But someone was missing.
Clara.
My sister was gone.
A phone appeared on the table.
It rang.
Adrian answered.
Nathan Cross's voice came through.
"Congratulations."
Adrian's eyes turned black.
"You have thirty minutes."
"For what?"
"Bring the ledger."
"And if we don't?"
May you like
A pause.
"Then Clara dies."
