Chapter 4 - Three Years Buried
The man stepped out of the darkness holding my father's photograph.
"Roman."
I couldn't move.
The photograph trembled slightly in his hand, but his face remained calm.
He was older than I expected.
Late fifties, perhaps.
Gray hair.
Sharp eyes.
A thin scar ran from beneath his left eye toward his jaw.
The same scar Sophie had described.
Daniel.
My uncle.
The man my family had buried twelve years ago.
He looked at me for several seconds.
Then he smiled.
Not warmly.
Like someone who had been waiting a very long time.
"You're taller than I remember."
I stared at him.
"You died."
He tilted his head.
"That's what they told you."
My mother appeared behind us.
The moment she saw him, she stopped.
Daniel looked at her.
"Hello, Catherine."
My mother's face lost all color.
I turned toward her.
"You knew."
She said nothing.
"You knew he was alive."
Her lips trembled.
Daniel gave a quiet laugh.
"She knew."
I stepped toward him.
"Where is my father?"
The smile disappeared from his face.
"That's the question you should have asked three years ago."
"I was told he died."
"You were told many things."
I looked at the photograph in his hand.
It showed my father standing outside the old family estate.
He looked younger.
Healthy.
Alive.
On the back of the photograph was a date.
September 14.
I knew that date.
It was the date my father supposedly died.
I took the photograph from Daniel.
My fingers tightened around it.
"Where was this taken?"
"Three years ago."
I looked up.
"Three years ago?"
Daniel nodded.
"Your father was alive three years ago."
The corridor seemed to narrow around me.
Elena moved closer.
"Roman, don't listen to him."
Daniel looked at her.
"You still don't trust me."
"You gave me every reason not to."
He smiled faintly.
"Fair."
I turned to Elena.
"You knew my father was alive?"
She shook her head.
"I suspected."
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"Because I wasn't sure."
Daniel interrupted.
"She was sure."
Elena glared at him.
"You disappeared."
"I had to."
"You abandoned everyone."
"I protected everyone."
My mother suddenly spoke.
"Enough."
Daniel looked at her.
"After twenty years, you still think you can tell me when to stop?"
My mother stepped forward.
"Roman doesn't need to hear this."
I turned toward her.
"He needs to hear everything."
Her eyes met mine.
For the first time in my life, I saw something in my mother's face that frightened me.
Not anger.
Not control.
Fear.
I raised the photograph.
"Why did you tell me Dad was dead?"
She didn't answer.
Daniel did.
"Because your father discovered what she had done."
My mother closed her eyes.
I looked at Daniel.
"What did she do?"
"Ask her."
I turned back.
"Mom."
She stared at the floor.
"Your grandfather left instructions."
"What instructions?"
"About the company."
"What company?"
"The family foundation."
I frowned.
"That's all?"
She shook her head.
"No."
Her voice became smaller.
"About you."
The hallway went silent.
"About me?"
"Your grandfather believed the family would eventually destroy itself."
Daniel laughed bitterly.
"He was right."
My mother continued.
"He created a private trust."
I remembered Elena's words.
Something your mother has spent twenty years trying to find.
"What was in it?"
"Control."
"Control of what?"
"The estate. The foundation. The accounts."
I looked at Daniel.
"And Dad knew?"
"He helped your grandfather create it."
My mother's face tightened.
"And that's why your father had to disappear."
I stared at her.
"You made him disappear?"
"No."
Daniel stepped closer.
"She didn't have to."
My mother looked at him.
"Daniel."
"You did what you always do."
"Stop."
"You let other people do the dirty work."
My mother turned toward me.
"I was trying to protect you."
I shook my head.
"Everyone keeps saying that."
I looked at Elena.
"You said it."
Then at Daniel.
"You said it."
Then my mother.
"You said it."
I held up the red flannel.
"But everyone who claims they protected me also lied to me."
Nobody answered.
Sophie suddenly spoke.
"Daddy?"
I turned.
She was standing beside Elena.
"Can we go home?"
The question nearly broke me.
I crouched beside her.
"Yes."
Elena looked at me.
"Which home?"
I didn't know what to say.
Because for the first time, I wasn't sure I had one.
Daniel stepped forward.
"Not yet."
I stood.
"You don't get to tell me what to do."
"No."
He handed me the old photograph.
"But you need to see the other side."
I turned it over.
There was handwriting beneath the date.
Your son must never know.
My stomach tightened.
I looked at Daniel.
"Who wrote this?"
He didn't answer.
I already knew.
The handwriting belonged to my mother.
I turned toward her.
She covered her mouth.
"You wrote this."
She began to cry.
"I had no choice."
"You always had a choice."
Her shoulders shook.
"I was twenty-nine."
"And Dad?"
"He was thirty-one."
"What happened?"
She looked toward the floor.
"Your grandfather found out your father was planning to leave."
"Leave the family?"
"Leave all of us."
"Why?"
"Because he wanted a different life."
Daniel laughed quietly.
"He wanted a clean life."
My mother looked at him.
"He wanted to take Roman with him."
My breath stopped.
"What?"
My mother looked at me.
"Your father was going to take you away."
"Where?"
"California."
I stared at her.
"You stopped him."
"I tried to stop him."
"Why?"
"Because your grandfather threatened him."
"What did he threaten?"
She hesitated.
"Me."
I looked confused.
"Your grandfather said he would destroy me."
Daniel shook his head.
"That's not the whole story."
My mother turned on him.
"You weren't there."
"I was."
"You were already gone."
"I came back."
"You came back too late."
Daniel's expression hardened.
"Not late enough."
Elena suddenly stepped forward.
"What happened the night Roman's father disappeared?"
My mother looked at her.
"Why do you care?"
"Because that's the night everything started."
Silence.
Then my mother whispered:
"Your father found the trust."
I stared at her.
"The real trust?"
She nodded.
"What was in it?"
"He left everything to Roman."
The words barely registered.
"Everything?"
"The estate. The foundation. The controlling shares."
Daniel continued.
"And your mother would receive nothing."
I looked at my mother.
She looked away.
"So you lied."
"I panicked."
"You told everyone Dad was dead."
"I thought I could fix it."
"You let me grow up believing my father abandoned me."
"I was trying to protect you."
"From what?"
She finally looked at me.
"From becoming him."
I didn't understand.
"What does that mean?"
She wiped her face.
"Your father wasn't killed."
Daniel stepped closer.
"He was imprisoned."
My eyes widened.
"Where?"
Daniel looked toward the old west wing.
"Under this house."
Elena grabbed my arm.
"Roman."
I pulled away.
"He's alive?"
Daniel nodded.
"Your father has been alive for twelve years."
The world seemed to stop.
I looked at the floor.
At the walls.
At the locked rooms.
At the house where I had grown up.
A house I thought I knew.
My father had been somewhere beneath it.
All this time.
"Take me to him."
Daniel shook his head.
"Not yet."
"Why?"
"Because if you open the wrong door, he dies."
I stared at him.
"Who would kill him?"
Daniel looked directly at my mother.
She was crying silently.
I felt something inside me snap.
I walked toward her.
"Mom."
She didn't look up.
"Where is he?"
She whispered:
"Below the library."
I turned toward Marcus.
"Get everyone out."
Marcus nodded.
"Roman—"
"Everyone."
Guests began moving through the ballroom exits.
Security officers cleared the corridors.
Elena held Sophie's hand.
I approached them.
"Stay with Marcus."
Elena shook her head.
"I'm coming."
"No."
"I've spent three years waiting for you to find the truth."
She looked at me.
"I'm not staying behind now."
I wanted to argue.
Instead, I nodded.
Daniel walked toward the library.
I followed.
My mother remained behind.
We passed the grand staircase.
The portraits of dead D'Angelos watched us from the walls.
My father's portrait hung at the center.
I stopped beneath it.
For years, I had believed it was a memorial.
Now I saw something I had never noticed.
A small scratch beneath the frame.
Three letters.
W.W.W.
Elena touched the mark.
"What is that?"
Daniel looked at it.
"Your father left that."
"What does it mean?"
Daniel's face changed.
"It means we're already too late."
We reached the library.
Daniel opened a hidden panel behind the fireplace.
A narrow staircase descended into darkness.
Cold air rose from below.
Sophie suddenly cried out.
"Mommy!"
Elena turned.
Sophie was staring at the hallway behind us.
"What is it?"
The little girl pointed.
"That man."
I looked.
Nobody was there.
Then I heard footsteps.
Fast.
Someone was running toward us.
Daniel pulled the hidden door shut.
Marcus appeared at the end of the hallway.
"Roman!"
"What?"
He stopped.
His face was pale.
"We found something."
"What?"
He held up a security tablet.
"Someone accessed the basement."
"When?"
"Three minutes ago."
I looked at Daniel.
He shook his head.
"Impossible."
Marcus turned the screen toward me.
A live camera feed showed a narrow underground corridor.
At the end stood a metal door.
Someone was standing in front of it.
A man.
Gray hair.
Thin face.
Wearing an old dark jacket.
I stepped closer to the screen.
I knew that face.
Even after twelve years.
Even older.
Even thinner.
I knew those eyes.
My father was staring directly into the camera.
Then he raised one hand.
He pointed behind himself.
At something moving in the darkness.
May you like
The screen suddenly went black.
And from somewhere beneath the library, a man's voice whispered my name...
