Chapter 5 - The Man Who Betrayed Her Father
Samuel placed the recipe book on the table.
Christa stared at him.
"My mother told me not to trust you."
"I expected she might."
"Where did you get that?"
"Arthur."
"When?"
"Three years ago."
Dion moved closer.
"Start talking."
Samuel sat.
For the next hour, twenty years of lies finally began taking shape.
Arthur had returned to Chicago after discovering that Vincent had found Christa.
He contacted Samuel.
He wanted the original ledger recovered.
But before they could act, Arthur disappeared again.
"Did Vincent find him?" Christa asked.
"I don't know."
"You keep saying that."
"Because Arthur stopped trusting me too."
"Why?"
Samuel looked at Dion.
"Because I made one mistake."
"What mistake?"
"I told Richard Henderson where Arthur was hiding twenty years ago."
Christa went still.
"You betrayed him."
"I thought Richard would protect him."
"Instead he forced him to disappear."
"Yes."
Christa stood.
She wanted to hate Samuel.
But the old man looked like he'd spent twenty years hating himself.
"Where's the ledger?"
Samuel opened the recipe book.
Page 41.
Line 87.
Word 12.
CHURCH.
Page 12 contained a handwritten recipe for cinnamon bread.
The first letters of each ingredient spelled an address.
St. Anthony's Church.
Christa knew it.
Her parents had married there.
They arrived before sunrise.
Behind the altar, a loose floorboard concealed a metal box.
Inside was the ledger.
And another letter.
Not for Christa.
For Dion.
Dion opened it.
Richard's handwriting.
Son,
If Arthur's daughter brings you this far, then she is braver than any Henderson deserves.
Christa looked at Dion.
He continued.
Vincent created the accounts. I discovered the truth too late. I protected the company when I should have protected Arthur publicly. That failure belongs to me.
Dion's jaw tightened.
The ledger contained everything.
Transfers.
Dates.
Signatures.
Proof.
Enough to expose Vincent.
Enough to clear Arthur.
Christa should have felt victory.
Instead she asked:
"Where's my mother?"
A sound came from the church entrance.
Slow applause.
Vincent stood there.
No weapon.
No army.
Just Vincent.
"Congratulations."
Dion stepped in front of Christa.
She moved beside him.
Not behind.
Vincent noticed.
"How touching."
Christa held the ledger.
"Where is she?"
"Safe."
"Prove it."
Vincent showed his phone.
A live video.
Elena Flores sat in a hotel room.
Unharmed.
Angry.
Very angry.
"That woman has insulted me continuously for six hours," Vincent said.
Christa almost laughed.
"Sounds like Mom."
Vincent extended his hand.
"The ledger."
"No."
"Christa."
"No."
His pleasant mask disappeared.
"Your father made the same mistake."
"What mistake?"
"Thinking truth mattered more than survival."
A voice came from behind Vincent.
"Maybe it does."
Vincent froze.
Christa knew that voice.
This time it wasn't a recording.
A man stepped through the church doorway.
Older.
Thinner.
Gray-haired.
But those eyes—
Christa dropped the ledger.
"Chrissy."
She couldn't move.
Arthur Flores stood twenty feet away.
Alive.
Her father took one step toward her.
Then another.
Christa's tears came before thought.
"You left me."
Arthur stopped.
"I know."
"You let me think you didn't love me."
"I know."
"Twenty years."
His face broke.
"I know."
Christa crossed the distance.
She hit his chest once.
Not hard.
Then again.
And then she collapsed against him.
Arthur wrapped his arms around his daughter.
"I'm sorry."
Christa cried into the jacket of a man she had spent twenty years trying to forget.
Dion looked away, giving them privacy.
Vincent did not.
"This reunion changes nothing."
Arthur looked up.
"It changes everything."
Vincent's face hardened.
Arthur reached into his jacket.
Not a weapon.
A flash drive.
"The ledger isn't the evidence you should be worried about."
Vincent went pale.
Arthur smiled.
"For twenty years, you thought I disappeared because I was afraid of you."
"What is that?"
"Every account. Every transfer. Every signature."
"You have nothing."
Arthur looked toward Dion.
"Send it."
Dion lifted his phone.
Vincent lunged toward him.
Christa moved instinctively.
She grabbed the heavy wooden lectern between them and shoved it sideways, blocking Vincent's path.
He stumbled.
Dion didn't attack him.
He simply stepped away and pressed SEND.
Vincent stared.
"Where did you send it?"
Dion's voice was calm.
"To people who ask very detailed questions about financial fraud."
For the first time, Vincent looked afraid.
Then his phone rang.
He looked at the screen.
His face drained.
Christa didn't need to know who was calling.
She already knew something had changed.
Vincent walked backward.
"This isn't over."
Arthur looked at him.
"For you, I think it is."
Vincent left.
Christa turned toward her father.
"Mom."
Arthur nodded.
"I know where she is."
They found Elena exactly where Vincent's video had shown.
The moment she saw Arthur, she slapped him.
Then hugged him.
Then slapped him again.
Christa laughed through tears.
For several minutes, nobody knew whether they were crying or arguing.
Eventually, Christa stepped into the hallway.
Dion stood there.
Waiting.
"You okay?" he asked.
"No."
He nodded.
"Reasonable."
She leaned against the wall.
"My father is alive."
"Yes."
"My mother lied."
"Yes."
"Samuel betrayed him."
"Yes."
"Your father covered it up."
"Yes."
"And Vincent has spent eight years manipulating my career."
"Yes."
Christa looked at him.
"You're really bad at comforting people."
"I considered lying."
"Don't."
"Exactly."
She smiled weakly.
Then Dion's phone vibrated.
He checked it.
His face changed.
"What?"
He showed her.
A photograph had arrived.
Taken minutes ago.
Christa and Arthur hugging inside the church.
Someone had been watching them.
Beneath it was one sentence:
VINCENT WAS NEVER THE MAN IN CHARGE.
Christa stared.
Another message arrived.
ASK ARTHUR WHO GAVE THE ORDER.
Christa slowly turned toward the hotel room.
Her father stood inside.
May you like
Watching her.
And from the look on his face, he already knew the answer.
