Chapter 2 - The Dead Man’s Voice
Vincent did not move.
Neither did Hannah.
The voice came again.
“Vin.”
Only Marcus Rowan had called him that.
Vincent crossed the dark study and reached the door.
Hannah grabbed his arm.
“Don’t open it.”
Vincent looked down at her hand.
She released him.
The emergency lights came on.
A dim red glow filled the room.
The knock sounded again.
Then Daniel Mercer’s voice replaced the impossible one.
“Vincent. It’s me.”
Vincent unlocked the door.
Daniel stood outside holding his weapon low.
His face was pale.
“What happened?”
“Someone hijacked the building audio system,” Daniel said. “Played an old recording.”
“Of Marcus?”
“Yes.”
Vincent’s stare sharpened.
“Where would anyone get it?”
Daniel hesitated.
“That’s the problem.”
“Speak.”
“The recording came from the Rowan archives.”
Vincent glanced at Hannah.
Only a handful of people had access.
Sophie emerged from the library.
“Is everything okay?”
Vincent immediately lowered his voice.
“Yes.”
She pointed toward Daniel.
“He has a gun.”
Daniel looked embarrassed.
Vincent said, “Daniel protects the building.”
Sophie studied him.
“From who?”
Nobody answered.
“That’s what I thought,” she said.
Vincent almost laughed again.
Almost.
He handed the envelope to Daniel.
“Secure this.”
Hannah stepped forward.
“No.”
Vincent turned.
“That belongs to me.”
“No. It belonged to Marcus.”
“That makes it more mine than yours.”
Hannah’s expression changed.
“For eight years, everything belonging to Marcus has been treated like a sacred relic in this building. Maybe that’s why nobody ever looked closely enough.”
Vincent stared at her.
“What does that mean?”
“It means your brother lied to both of us.”
Daniel shifted uncomfortably.
Vincent motioned toward Sophie.
“Take her to the conference room. Stay with her.”
Sophie planted her feet.
“I’m staying with Mom.”
“Sophie.”
“No.”
Vincent recognized the tone.
His own.
Hannah knelt.
“Honey, please go with Mr. Mercer for five minutes.”
“Will you disappear?”
Hannah froze.
Sophie’s lower lip trembled.
“You always make me wait somewhere when grown-ups talk. Then we move again.”
Vincent looked at Hannah.
“How many times?”
She didn’t answer.
Sophie did.
“Six.”
Vincent’s anger returned.
Not at Hannah exactly.
At the invisible force that had kept them running.
He crouched again.
“Nobody is disappearing.”
“Promise?”
Vincent Rowan did not make promises lightly.
He looked directly into Sophie’s eyes.
“I promise.”
She studied him for several seconds.
Then she held out her little finger.
Vincent looked at it.
Daniel coughed to hide a smile.
Vincent wrapped his finger around hers.
“Promise,” Sophie said.
“Promise.”
Daniel led her away.
The instant the elevator doors closed, Vincent turned.
“Now tell me everything.”
Hannah sat.
For years she had imagined this moment.
In every version, she was brave.
She spoke clearly.
She told Vincent what Marcus had done, what she had discovered, why she had hidden Sophie.
But reality was different.
Reality was Vincent standing five feet away with eight years of betrayal written across his face.
“Marcus wasn’t trying to protect you,” Hannah said.
Vincent’s eyes narrowed.
“He was trying to control what you became.”
“Explain.”
“Your security company was growing. Investors were approaching you. Marcus thought family would make you weak.”
Vincent gave a cold smile.
“He was wrong.”
“He believed love made people predictable.”
Vincent said nothing.
Hannah continued.
“When he discovered I was pregnant, he panicked.”
“How?”
“I told him.”
Vincent stared at her.
“You told Marcus before me?”
“I was trying to surprise you. I asked him to help me arrange dinner.”
Pain flickered across Vincent’s expression.
Brief.
Real.
“He congratulated me,” Hannah whispered. “Then he came back that night with the money.”
Vincent walked away.
For a moment, Hannah saw the young man from the photograph instead of the feared billionaire.
“What was in the envelope?” he asked.
“A copy of financial records.”
“From?”
“Your first company.”
Vincent turned sharply.
“Rowan Protective?”
“Yes.”
“That company became Rowan Global.”
“I know.”
“What records?”
“Transfers Marcus was making through shell companies.”
Vincent’s expression darkened.
“Why would he give you proof of his own theft?”
“He didn’t.”
Hannah pointed toward the envelope.
“I stole it from his car.”
Vincent stared.
“That’s why he followed you.”
“Yes.”
“And why you kept moving.”
“Yes.”
“Why come back now?”
Hannah swallowed.
“Because the money started moving again.”
Silence.
Vincent leaned slowly against the desk.
“Marcus is dead.”
“I know.”
“Then who is moving it?”
“That is what I came to find out.”
Vincent opened the letter.
The paper was old.
Marcus’s handwriting covered one side.
Vincent read silently.
Hannah watched his face change.
“What does it say?”
Vincent didn’t answer.
She stood.
“Vincent.”
He handed her the letter.
Hannah read:
Vin—
If you’re reading this, something went wrong.
The accounts are not what you think.
I moved the money because someone inside Rowan Protective was selling client information. I needed an off-book fund to trace the payments.
Do not trust Elliot.
Hannah stopped.
“Elliot?”
Vincent’s uncle.
Elliot Rowan.
The man who had raised Vincent and Marcus after their father died.
The chairman of Rowan Global.
The only person Vincent trusted with financial authority equal to his own.
Hannah looked up.
“Did you know?”
“No.”
“Could Marcus have been lying?”
“Yes.”
“Do you think he was?”
Vincent looked at the flash drive.
“I’m going to find out.”
Three hours later, they were in a secure room beneath Rowan Tower.
No internet connection.
No remote access.
Daniel stood beside an isolated computer while Vincent inserted the drive.
Files appeared.
Hundreds.
Payments.
Security logs.
Photographs.
Recorded calls.
One folder was labeled H.E.
Hannah Ellis.
Vincent opened it.
Her entire life appeared on the screen.
Old addresses.
Jobs.
Medical visits.
Photographs taken from across streets.
Sophie at age two.
Sophie at age four.
Sophie entering kindergarten.
Hannah covered her mouth.
“No.”
Vincent’s face became stone.
Someone had been watching them for years.
Daniel opened another file.
“Boss.”
Vincent approached.
It was a DNA laboratory invoice.
Seven years old.
Subject A: Vincent Rowan.
Subject B: Female minor.
Probability of paternity: 99.998%.
Vincent stopped breathing.
Hannah stared.
“I never had a test done.”
Vincent turned toward her.
“Neither did I.”
Daniel scrolled.
The order had been placed by a private investigator.
Client initials:
E.R.
Elliot Rowan.
Vincent’s hands flattened against the table.
His uncle had known.
For seven years.
He had known Sophie existed.
Known where she lived.
Known who her father was.
And never said a word.
Vincent took out his phone.
Daniel stopped him.
“Wait.”
Another file had opened automatically.
A video.
Marcus appeared on screen.
Alive.
Young.
Terrified.
The timestamp was twenty-four hours before his death.
“If Vincent is watching this,” Marcus said, “then Elliot has already won once.”
Vincent stared at the brother he had buried.
Marcus continued.
“I did terrible things because I thought I was protecting you. Hannah, if you’re there, I’m sorry. I told you Vincent wanted you gone. He didn’t.”
Hannah began crying silently.
Vincent remained motionless.
Marcus leaned toward the camera.
“But listen carefully. Elliot isn’t stealing money.”
A noise sounded behind Marcus in the recording.
He looked toward the door.
“He’s building something.”
The video distorted.
Then Marcus said one final sentence.
“He needs Vincent to remain childless.”
The recording ended.
Nobody spoke.
Daniel looked at Vincent.
“Why would your uncle care whether you had an heir?”
Vincent already knew the answer.
Rowan Global’s ownership structure.
His father’s trust.
If Vincent died without a recognized descendant, controlling shares transferred to Elliot’s branch of the family.
Hannah whispered, “Sophie.”
Vincent stood instantly.
He called the conference room.
No answer.
Again.
Nothing.
Daniel pulled up the security feed.
The room was empty.
Vincent’s face drained of color.
A guard lay unconscious beside the elevator.
Sophie was gone.
Then Vincent’s phone vibrated.
A photograph appeared.
Sophie sitting calmly in the back seat of a black car.
May you like
Below it were six words.
BRING THE DRIVE. COME ALONE. DAD.
