Chapter 4 - What Molly Saw at Midnight
Molly could not move.
Her father.
Alive.
The word refused to fit inside her mind.
Thomas Higgins existed to Molly as fragments.
A faded photograph.
A leather wallet her mother kept in a drawer.
A memory of being lifted onto broad shoulders.
A funeral she barely remembered.
No body.
Closed casket.
Her mother had said the accident was too severe.
Molly had never questioned it.
Children trusted the adults who survived.
Victor stood between her and the ballroom corridor.
“You’re not going.”
Molly looked at him.
“My father might be alive.”
“That is what Dominic wants you to believe.”
“What if it’s true?”
“What if it’s bait?”
“Then I’m already bait.”
Victor’s eyes hardened.
Molly stepped closer.
“You spent twelve years wondering what happened in this room.”
He did not answer.
“I’ve spent twenty-four years thinking my father was dead. Move.”
For several seconds neither moved.
Then Victor stepped aside.
“Beside me.”
They went downstairs.
The old ballroom occupied half the second floor.
Its double doors were closed.
Victor’s men checked the corridor.
One opened the door.
Inside, hundreds of candles burned.
Molly almost laughed from disbelief.
It looked staged.
A long dining table stood in the center beneath a ruined chandelier.
Four plates had been set.
Four silver forks.
Victor stopped.
Molly did too.
At the far end sat Dominic Vale.
He wore a gray suit.
He looked exactly as Molly remembered.
Handsome in a polished, forgettable way.
The kind of face people trusted because it practiced trustworthiness.
Beside him sat Anthony Bell.
Judge Kellerman occupied another chair.
Both looked terrified.
And beside them—
Molly forgot to breathe.
An older man sat in a wheelchair.
Gray hair.
Thin face.
A scar crossed his left temple.
But Molly knew the eyes.
Her own eyes.
The same unusual green-brown color her mother called autumn glass.
“Molly,” the man whispered.
Her knees nearly failed.
Victor caught her.
The older man began crying.
“Molly.”
She shook her head.
“No.”
“I’m sorry.”
“No.”
“I wanted—”
“You’re dead.”
The sentence sounded childish.
The man closed his eyes.
“I know.”
“You’re dead.”
Dominic smiled.
“Well. Technically—”
Victor moved toward him.
“Don’t.”
Dominic raised both hands.
“Easy.”
Victor’s men spread around the room.
Dominic appeared unconcerned.
Molly stared at the older man.
“Are you Thomas Higgins?”
“Yes.”
“My father?”
“Yes.”
She crossed the room.
Then slapped him.
The sound echoed.
Victor watched.
Thomas did not defend himself.
Molly’s hand trembled.
“Twenty-four years.”
“I know.”
“My mother cried every anniversary.”
“I know.”
“She worked two jobs.”
“I know.”
“I thought you were dead.”
Thomas looked at her.
“That was the only way to keep you alive.”
Molly laughed bitterly.
“People keep saying they endangered me to protect me tonight.”
Dominic leaned back.
“That family habit is exactly why we’re here.”
Victor’s patience disappeared.
“What do you want?”
Dominic looked at him.
“An ending.”
“To what?”
“To your father’s unfinished business.”
Anthony Bell whispered, “Dominic, you said nobody would be hurt.”
Dominic’s smile vanished.
“You lost the privilege of negotiating fifteen years ago.”
Judge Kellerman looked sick.
Victor studied both men.
“What happened fifteen years ago?”
Thomas answered.
“Your father found out Dominic’s father was stealing from him.”
Dominic’s eyes hardened.
Thomas continued.
“Not money. Information.”
Victor looked at Dominic.
“Your father?”
“Michael Vale,” Dominic said. “A man your father treated like a servant.”
Thomas shook his head.
“Michael sold shipping routes and police contacts to rival groups.”
Anthony Bell added, “When Victor’s father discovered it, he called us here.”
“To Room 317?” Victor asked.
“Yes.”
Thomas looked toward the ceiling.
“Your father wanted proof. I had the records. Anthony had shipping manifests. Kellerman was still a prosecutor then.”
Victor turned to the judge.
“You were involved?”
Kellerman nodded.
“I was building a federal case.”
Victor gave a cold laugh.
“My father cooperating with a prosecutor?”
“He wanted Michael Vale gone without a war.”
Dominic’s hand tightened around his glass.
“My father was going to prison because Victor’s father wanted to pretend he had principles.”
Thomas looked at Molly.
“Michael found out.”
Molly already knew the next part would hurt.
“He came to the Marlowe,” Thomas said. “There was a struggle. Victor’s father was killed.”
Victor’s face remained still.
“And you?”
“I was wounded.”
“The car accident?”
“Staged.”
“Why?”
Thomas looked at Dominic.
“Because Michael escaped.”
Victor finally understood.
“He would come after witnesses.”
“Yes.”
Anthony Bell leaned forward.
“We separated. Changed records. Claudia helped hide Thomas.”
Molly stared at Claudia.
“You knew he was alive?”
“For years.”
“And my mother?”
Claudia looked away.
Molly’s stomach twisted.
“She knew.”
Thomas whispered, “She had to.”
Molly felt something break inside her.
All those anniversaries.
All those nights her mother spoke about Thomas as though he were gone.
All lies.
Dominic laughed.
“You see? Nobody in this room is innocent.”
Victor looked at him.
“Where is Michael?”
Dominic’s smile disappeared.
“My father died in prison eight years ago.”
“Then why this?”
“Because all of them went on with their lives.”
His voice rose for the first time.
“My father lost everything. Victor inherited an empire. Bell became rich. Kellerman became a judge. Thomas disappeared into protection while his family received help through anonymous accounts.”
Molly blinked.
“What accounts?”
Thomas looked ashamed.
“The rent. Your college.”
Molly remembered.
Scholarships she never applied for.
Bills mysteriously reduced.
Her mother always said community charities helped.
“Victor’s father arranged it,” Thomas said.
Victor looked surprised.
Thomas nodded.
“He made me a promise before he died.”
Dominic stood.
“And tonight I intended to collect every debt.”
Victor glanced toward the four plates.
“The forks.”
Dominic smiled.
“Symbolic.”
“You tried to kill me.”
“I gave Adrian instructions.”
“Instructions involving a treated fork.”
Dominic shrugged.
“Adrian was desperate.”
Molly suddenly understood.
“You never expected him to do it.”
Dominic looked at her.
“Smart.”
“You expected me to stop him.”
“Smarter.”
Victor frowned.
Molly continued.
“You chose me because my father was part of this. You wanted me involved.”
Dominic clapped once.
“Excellent.”
“But why threaten my mother?”
“To ensure you followed the path.”
Molly’s anger returned.
“You sent a man into her apartment.”
“Yes.”
“You kidnapped Claudia.”
“Yes.”
“You threatened Adrian’s son.”
“Yes.”
Victor moved forward.
“You’re done.”
Dominic did not move.
“No, Victor.”
He touched his phone.
Every ballroom door locked with an electronic click.
Victor’s men immediately tried them.
Sealed.
Dominic smiled.
“You still don’t understand the dinner.”
Molly stared at the table.
Four plates.
Four forks.
But there were five people from the old conspiracy if Michael Vale was counted.
She looked beneath Victor’s plate.
Something had been taped underneath.
A small recorder.
Molly pulled it free.
Dominic’s face changed.
“Don’t.”
She pressed play.
His voice filled the ballroom.
Adrian, switch Hastings’s fork. Molly Higgins will stop him. When she does, threaten Evelyn. Do not actually let Hastings consume anything. We need fear, not a corpse.
Victor stared at Dominic.
Molly continued playing.
Another voice.
Dominic again.
Bell and Kellerman arrive at eight. Once Hastings reacts, move Claudia to Marlowe. Thomas must be ready by midnight. Every confession needs to happen in the ballroom.
Thomas looked confused.
“Confession?”
Dominic’s calm vanished.
He reached for the recorder.
Victor caught his wrist.
Dominic smiled.
“You think that saves you?”
Then every candle in the ballroom went out.
Emergency lights turned red.
A mechanical sound came from beneath the floor.
Molly smelled something strange.
Victor did too.
He looked toward the ventilation grates.
Dominic stepped backward.
“You should have left the recorder alone.”
Thomas suddenly shouted.
“The service tunnel!”
Molly turned.
“What?”
“There’s a tunnel behind the stage!”
Victor grabbed her hand.
They ran.
Behind them, Dominic yelled.
“Victor!”
They reached the stage curtain.
Thomas pointed from his wheelchair.
“Left wall!”
Molly found a brass handle.
She pulled.
A narrow door opened.
Victor pushed her inside.
Then Thomas shouted one last thing.
“Molly, wait!”
She turned.
Her father was holding a small envelope.
Her name was written on it.
“It’s from your mother,” he said. “She wrote it the night we buried an empty coffin.”
Before Molly could reach him, the ballroom doors suddenly unlocked.
Footsteps rushed in.
May you like
Someone shouted Victor’s name.
And then Molly heard her mother’s voice from the corridor.
