Chapter 4 - Three Days After the Funeral
Victoria dropped the photograph.
“No.”
Richard did not move.
Ethan picked it up.
The date was handwritten.
October 14.
Alexander’s funeral had taken place October 11.
The photograph appeared authentic.
But appearances were cheap.
Ethan looked at Malcolm.
“Where did you get this?”
“It arrived at my apartment tonight.”
“From?”
“No return address.”
“You expect me to believe that?”
Malcolm shrugged.
“You’ve spent years letting everyone believe you were unemployed. We all have secrets.”
Ethan ignored the insult.
“Why bring it here?”
“Because Richard knows more than he’s saying.”
Victoria turned toward her father.
Richard looked twenty years older.
“Dad?”
“It’s not what you think.”
“Then tell me what it is.”
Richard sat.
His voice came slowly.
“Alexander survived the crash.”
Victoria’s knees almost gave way.
Ethan caught her elbow.
She pulled away.
Not angrily.
Instinctively.
“You knew?”
Richard nodded.
“For how long?”
“From the beginning.”
Victoria stared.
“Twelve years?”
“Yes.”
“You let me bury him.”
Richard closed his eyes.
“Yes.”
“You let Mom bury him.”
“Yes.”
Her voice cracked.
“She died believing her son was dead.”
Richard said nothing.
Victoria slapped him.
The sound cut through the conference room.
Nobody moved.
Richard accepted it.
Victoria backed away.
“Why?”
“Because Alexander asked me to.”
She laughed through tears.
“Of course. Blame the dead man who isn’t dead.”
“It’s true.”
Richard stood.
“Alexander discovered the Meridian fraud. He believed people inside Halston were stealing money and using our shipping network for illegal payments. He confronted me.”
“And?”
“I didn’t believe him.”
Ethan asked, “Who was involved?”
“I didn’t know.”
“Did Alexander?”
“He had names.”
“Which names?”
“He never told me all of them.”
Richard looked toward Malcolm.
“One was a senior finance executive.”
Malcolm’s expression did not change.
Richard continued.
“After the crash, Alexander called me from a hospital under another name. He said someone had tried to kill him.”
Victoria whispered, “And you hid him.”
“Yes.”
“Why fake the funeral?”
“To make whoever attacked him believe they had succeeded.”
Ethan frowned.
“That might explain a few weeks. Not twelve years.”
Richard looked down.
“Alexander became obsessed.”
“With what?”
“Proving who was behind it.”
“Did he?”
“I don’t know.”
“You stayed in contact?”
“For six months.”
“And then?”
“He disappeared.”
Victoria stared at her father.
“You never looked?”
“I spent millions looking.”
“You never told me.”
“I was protecting you.”
“No.”
Her voice became steady.
“You were controlling me.”
Richard flinched.
Ethan recognized the sentence.
It was the same mistake Victoria had made with him.
Protection without truth became control.
Maya interrupted.
“We have another problem.”
She turned the screen.
Halston shares traded in Europe overnight.
They were falling.
Fast.
A financial news account had posted leaked documents alleging Halston Global was insolvent.
Ethan read the documents.
“They’re real.”
Victoria looked horrified.
“We’re insolvent?”
“No. The documents are real. The interpretation isn’t.”
The files showed internal liabilities without corresponding asset values.
Someone had selectively leaked genuine data.
Richard asked, “Can we stop it?”
“No.”
“Can we deny it?”
“Not without explaining confidential financing.”
Malcolm said, “Then we’re finished.”
Ethan looked at him.
“No.”
Malcolm smiled.
“You enjoy saying that.”
“Because you keep being wrong.”
Ethan called Maya.
“Prepare Northstar’s Monday facility.”
“You froze it.”
“Prepare it. Don’t release.”
“What are you planning?”
“To see who panics.”
At 5:30 a.m., Victoria sat alone in Ethan’s office.
The red gown looked absurd beneath fluorescent city light.
Ethan brought her coffee.
She accepted it.
“Thank you.”
He sat opposite her.
For several minutes, neither spoke.
Then Victoria said, “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“About Northstar?”
“Yes.”
“At first, because I didn’t think it mattered.”
“And later?”
“Because you stopped asking what I did.”
She looked down.
“That sounds terrible.”
“It was.”
“I became my father.”
Ethan did not answer.
“I thought I was protecting the company,” she continued. “Protecting the family name. Every dinner became business. Every friendship became networking. Every person became useful or useless.”
“And me?”
She looked at him.
“I convinced myself you were safe.”
“What does that mean?”
“You weren’t going anywhere.”
Ethan absorbed the words.
“So you thought you could treat me however you wanted.”
Her eyes filled.
“Yes.”
The honesty surprised him.
“I hated that people thought you were beneath me,” she said.
“Then why encourage it?”
“Because if they were laughing at you, they weren’t questioning me.”
Ethan leaned back.
There it was.
Not hatred.
Cowardice.
It did not excuse anything.
But it was true.
Victoria whispered, “I’m ashamed.”
“You should be.”
She nodded.
“I know.”
Ethan expected defensiveness.
None came.
That mattered too.
His phone buzzed.
Maya.
“We found Adrian Cross.”
“Where?”
“A hotel on West Fifty-Seventh.”
“Still there?”
“Checked out twenty minutes ago.”
“Camera?”
“Sending.”
A security image appeared.
Alexander.
Older.
Scarred.
Alive.
He exited the hotel carrying a black briefcase.
Beside him walked another person.
Serena Vale.
Victoria’s best friend.
Victoria stared at the screen.
“Serena?”
Ethan enlarged the image.
Serena handed Alexander something.
A key card.
Then she kissed his cheek.
Victoria stood.
“No.”
Maya said, “There’s more.”
Serena had received seven payments from Arcadia during the previous year.
Total: 2.1 million dollars.
Victoria grabbed her phone.
Ethan stopped her.
“Don’t call.”
“She’s my best friend.”
“She’s connected to the people attacking your company.”
“I need to know why.”
“You need to know more than why.”
Victoria looked at him.
“What?”
“Whether she scratched ARC onto your shoe.”
Victoria went silent.
At 7:12 a.m., Serena called.
Victoria stared at the screen.
Ethan nodded.
“Answer.”
She put it on speaker.
“Serena?”
Her friend sounded breathless.
“Victoria, listen to me. You need to get away from Ethan.”
Victoria looked at him.
“Why?”
“Because Alexander knows who he is.”
Ethan’s eyes narrowed.
“What does that mean?”
Serena realized she was on speaker.
Silence.
Then:
“Ethan?”
“Yes.”
“You should never have saved Halston.”
“Why?”
“Because it was supposed to die twelve years ago.”
The call ended.
Maya traced the signal.
“Grand Central.”
Ethan stood.
Victoria followed.
“No.”
She stopped.
“You stay here.”
“That’s my brother.”
“And Serena may be working with him.”
“All the more reason.”
Ethan looked at her.
For once, she did not order.
She asked.
“Please.”
He nodded.
They reached Grand Central twenty minutes later.
Serena was gone.
But she had left something inside a station locker.
A black envelope.
Victoria opened it.
Inside was a key.
And a handwritten note.
YOUR BROTHER DIDN’T COME BACK FOR THE COMPANY.
HE CAME BACK FOR YOUR HUSBAND.
Ethan turned the note over.
An address was written on the back.
He recognized it immediately.
His childhood home in Connecticut.
A house he had not entered in seventeen years.
Victoria looked at him.
“Why would Alexander know where you grew up?”
Ethan did not answer.
Because only four people knew what had happened in that house.
Two were dead.
One was Ethan.
And the fourth had disappeared seventeen years ago.
Then his phone rang.
May you like
The caller ID displayed a name he had not seen since he was fifteen.
MOM.
