Chapter 5 - The Father Who Was Never Dead
Beatrice couldn't move.
The man standing at the top of the stairs was older.
His hair was darker in her memories.
His face had fewer lines.
His shoulders had been stronger.
But she knew him.
She knew the way he stood.
The way he looked at her like he was trying to memorize her face.
The way his hands trembled slightly even though he was trying to hide it.
"Dad..."
The word escaped before she could stop it.
Nobody spoke.
Samuel Clark slowly stepped down the stairs.
One step.
Then another.
Beatrice backed away.
Her entire body was fighting against what her eyes were seeing.
For twelve years, she had imagined this moment.
She had imagined finding his grave.
Finding answers.
Finding the person responsible.
Never once had she imagined finding him alive.
"You grew up," Samuel whispered.
Her eyes filled.
"Don't."
He stopped.
"Don't say that like you just came home yesterday."
Pain crossed his face.
"I know."
"No, you don't."
Her voice cracked.
"You don't know what it was like."
Samuel lowered his eyes.
"I do."
"You don't."
Beatrice stepped forward.
"My mother died believing you were gone."
Samuel closed his eyes.
"I know."
"I waited."
"I know."
"I looked for you."
"I know."
"Then where were you?"
The question echoed through the house.
Samuel had no answer.
Dominic watched silently.
For once, he didn't interrupt.
He understood something important.
This wasn't his mystery.
This was hers.
Samuel looked at Dominic.
"You brought her into this."
Dominic's expression hardened.
"No."
Beatrice looked between them.
"What does that mean?"
Samuel stared at him.
"You should have kept her away."
Dominic stepped forward.
"Someone tried to kill her tonight."
Samuel's face changed.
"What?"
"Someone attacked her apartment. Someone attacked my car."
Samuel looked toward Beatrice.
"Are you hurt?"
She almost laughed.
"That's what you ask?"
"Bea—"
"No."
She wiped her eyes.
"You don't get to come back and act like my father after twelve years."
Samuel accepted the words.
Maybe because he knew he deserved them.
Maybe because he had been waiting to hear them.
"I never stopped being your father."
"You stopped being there."
Silence.
Then Samuel nodded.
"You're right."
The answer surprised her.
He didn't defend himself.
Didn't explain.
Didn't blame anyone.
He simply accepted it.
And somehow that hurt more.
Dominic finally spoke.
"We need answers."
Samuel looked at him.
"About Antonio."
"About everything."
Samuel glanced at the ledger on the table.
"You found it."
"Yes."
"Then they know."
Beatrice frowned.
"Who?"
Samuel didn't answer immediately.
That worried Dominic more than anything.
"Who knows?"
Samuel walked toward the table.
His eyes moved across the documents.
"The people who spent twelve years making sure nobody opened this."
Marco stepped forward.
"Who attacked my father?"
Samuel looked at him.
"Your father was lucky."
Marco froze.
"Lucky?"
"Yes."
"Someone broke into his house."
"Someone wanted him alive."
Nobody spoke.
Beatrice looked confused.
"Why?"
"Because dead men cannot be used."
Dominic's eyes narrowed.
"Used for what?"
Samuel looked toward the photograph.
"The same thing they tried to use me for."
Beatrice picked up the letter again.
"You wrote this."
Samuel nodded.
"Yes."
"You knew Frank would give it to me."
"Eventually."
"Why didn't you come yourself?"
His expression changed.
"Because I couldn't."
"Couldn't or wouldn't?"
"Both."
Beatrice looked away.
Dominic noticed Samuel's reaction.
"You were being watched."
Samuel looked at him.
"Every day."
"By who?"
Samuel didn't answer.
Dominic stepped closer.
"You disappeared. You let your daughter believe you were dead. You let your wife die thinking you abandoned her. You owe her the truth."
Samuel looked at Beatrice.
"You're right."
Then he took a deep breath.
"The night I disappeared, I found proof that someone inside the Rossi organization was selling information."
"We know."
"You don't know the worst part."
Dominic waited.
"The information wasn't being sold to enemies."
"Then who?"
"To people inside the organization."
The room went silent.
Marco looked at Dominic.
"Someone in the family?"
Samuel nodded.
"Yes."
Dominic's jaw tightened.
"Vittorio?"
Samuel looked toward the photograph.
"Maybe."
Beatrice noticed.
"Maybe?"
Samuel shook his head.
"That is what everyone wants you to believe."
She remembered the note.
Do not trust the man who claims Vittorio did it.
"What are you saying?"
Samuel walked to the table.
He opened the ledger.
"This isn't a record of payments."
Dominic frowned.
"Then what is it?"
"A list of people who were supposed to disappear."
Marco stepped back.
"What?"
Samuel turned pages.
Names.
Dates.
Locations.
Some crossed out.
Some circled.
Beatrice felt sick.
"Why are these names here?"
"Because someone planned to remove anyone who knew too much."
Dominic looked closer.
Then stopped.
His face changed.
Beatrice noticed.
"What?"
He didn't answer.
"Dominic."
He pointed.
A name.
One name.
Antonio Rossi.
Beside it was a date.
The date before his father's death.
Dominic's hand tightened around the paper.
"My father."
Samuel nodded.
"He wasn't supposed to die that night."
Dominic looked at him.
"What happened?"
"Antonio discovered the betrayal."
"Then why didn't he tell me?"
"Because he trusted the wrong person."
"Who?"
Samuel looked at him.
"Someone you still call family."
Dominic became completely still.
Beatrice watched him.
She knew that feeling.
The moment when everything you believed began breaking apart.
"Who?" Dominic repeated.
Samuel looked toward the window.
"I can't say yet."
Dominic laughed once.
No humor.
"You can't say?"
"Because if I say the name and I'm wrong, we lose our only advantage."
"And if you're right?"
"Then that person knows you're looking."
A sudden sound interrupted them.
A car door closing outside.
Everyone turned.
Luca moved toward the window.
"Someone is here."
Dominic immediately reached for his weapon.
"How many?"
Luca looked outside.
"One vehicle."
Samuel's face changed.
"Leave."
Beatrice looked at him.
"What?"
"Now."
"Why?"
Samuel moved toward the front door.
"Because they didn't follow you here."
Dominic frowned.
"Then how did they find us?"
Samuel looked at the house.
"They were already here."
The lights flickered.
Once.
Twice.
Then disappeared.
The house fell into darkness.
Marco whispered, "Again?"
Samuel grabbed Beatrice's arm.
"Where is the key?"
She pulled away.
"Why?"
"Where is the key?"
"You know about it."
"Yes."
"Then tell me why my father gave it to me."
Samuel looked directly into her eyes.
"Because he knew I might not survive."
Her anger weakened.
Only slightly.
"What does it open?"
Samuel hesitated.
That hesitation told her everything.
"It opens the place where the truth was buried."
Dominic looked at him.
"Where?"
Samuel turned.
"Not where."
A sound came from upstairs.
Everyone froze.
A floorboard.
Someone walking.
But they had checked the house.
It was empty.
Luca raised his weapon.
"I'll check."
Samuel grabbed his shoulder.
"No."
"Why?"
"Because whoever is upstairs wants you to do exactly that."
The footsteps continued.
Slow.
Calm.
Coming closer.
Beatrice whispered:
"How many people know this house?"
Samuel's face went pale.
"Three."
"Who?"
"Myself."
"My father."
"And..."
He stopped.
Dominic stared at him.
"And who?"
Samuel didn't answer.
The basement door behind them suddenly slammed shut.
Everyone turned.
The lock clicked.
From the other side.
Marco rushed forward.
"It locked itself."
Samuel looked terrified.
"No."
Beatrice looked at him.
"What?"
Samuel whispered:
"It didn't lock itself."
A voice came from upstairs.
"You always were difficult to find, Samuel."
Beatrice froze.
Dominic looked toward the ceiling.
Samuel's face lost all color.
Because he recognized the voice.
And so did Dominic.
The person walking down the stairs was not a stranger.
It was someone they trusted.
Someone who had been searching for them the entire time.
The basement light flickered back on.
A shadow appeared at the top of the stairs.
Then the person smiled.
May you like
And said:
"Hello, Dominic."
