Chapter 13 - The Choice I Should Have Made Years Ago
Midnight.
That was the deadline.
My father had given me less than six hours to save Corinne.
For the first time in my life, I knew exactly what I had to do.
I was going to tell the truth.
All of it.
Even the parts that could destroy me.
Agent Sloan sat across from me.
"Grant, we need to know whether you have the original ledger."
I shook my head.
"No."
"Did Corinne ever mention where she stored it?"
"No."
"Think carefully."
I closed my eyes.
Corinne had always been organized.
She kept receipts.
Medical records.
Insurance documents.
Family photographs.
Everything had a place.
I thought about our bedroom.
Her desk.
The locked drawer.
Then I remembered something.
A small wooden box.
Her grandfather had given it to her.
She kept it in the nursery.
I looked up.
"There's a box."
Sloan leaned forward.
"What kind?"
"Wooden. About the size of a jewelry case."
"Where?"
"In Owen's room."
"Did you see it when you returned home?"
I thought back.
The bassinet was gone.
The bottles were gone.
The blankets were gone.
But the box?
I couldn't remember.
"I don't know."
Sloan immediately called the evidence team.
Within twenty minutes, an officer returned carrying a small wooden box.
My heart hammered.
"That's it."
The officer placed it on the table.
It was locked.
Sloan looked at me.
"Do you have a key?"
"No."
"Did Corinne?"
"She wore one on a necklace."
Then I remembered the pendant recovered from the warehouse.
The silver oval necklace.
Sloan made a call.
The necklace was brought to us.
A tiny key hung behind the pendant.
I stared.
Corinne had hidden it in plain sight.
Sloan unlocked the box.
Inside were several photographs.
A handwritten letter.
And a small notebook.
The original ledger.
I recognized my father's handwriting.
Sloan carefully lifted it out.
For a moment, nobody spoke.
Then she opened the notebook.
Page after page documented transfers, payments, property acquisitions, and names.
My father.
Richard Vale.
Tessa Vaughn.
Several attorneys.
A bank executive.
And me.
My stomach tightened.
My name appeared repeatedly.
Some entries were legitimate.
Others were not.
Sloan looked up.
"Grant, did you authorize these transactions?"
I stared.
Some signatures were mine.
Some weren't.
I pointed to one entry.
"That one."
She looked.
"Yes?"
"I signed it."
"Did you know what it was?"
"No."
"Why did you sign it?"
I swallowed.
"Because Richard told me to."
Sloan wrote something down.
I continued.
"And because I didn't want to look stupid."
She looked up.
I laughed bitterly.
"That's the truth."
I had built my entire life around appearing powerful.
Competent.
Successful.
I was so afraid of looking foolish that I never asked questions.
And because I never asked questions, people had stolen millions through my company.
My wife had nearly died alone.
My son had been threatened.
And my father had used my ignorance as a weapon.
Sloan closed the ledger.
"We can use this."
"Then use it."
"We need to coordinate a controlled exchange."
I nodded.
"Whatever it takes."
She studied me.
"Grant, this could expose you to criminal liability."
"I know."
"You may lose your company."
"I know."
"You may face prosecution."
I looked at her.
"Then prosecute me."
She said nothing.
I leaned forward.
"But find my wife first."
The operation began at nine that evening.
Federal agents prepared surveillance vehicles.
A tactical team studied the location my father had provided.
An abandoned manufacturing facility outside Columbia.
I was fitted with a concealed microphone.
Sloan explained the plan.
"You'll approach the building with a duplicate ledger."
"Where will the real one be?"
"Secure."
"What if he checks?"
"We'll manage that."
I nodded.
"Do not improvise," she warned.
"I won't."
"Do not attempt to rescue Corinne yourself."
"I understand."
"Your job is to keep your father talking."
I looked at her.
"And if he threatens her?"
Sloan held my gaze.
"Trust the team."
I wanted to.
But trust had become a difficult word.
At eleven forty, I arrived at the facility.
The building stood behind a rusted fence.
Broken windows stared into the darkness.
A single light burned above the entrance.
I stepped out of the car.
The night air smelled of wet concrete and old machinery.
My phone vibrated.
A message from an unknown number.
Come alone.
I walked toward the door.
Inside, the warehouse was almost empty.
A few metal tables.
Old equipment.
Stacks of wooden pallets.
Then I saw him.
My father stood beneath a hanging light.
He wore a dark coat.
His hands were empty.
"Grant."
I stopped.
"Dad."
He smiled.
"You came."
"Where's Corinne?"
"Do you have the ledger?"
I lifted the briefcase.
"Yes."
He extended his hand.
"Give it to me."
"Not until I see her."
His smile faded.
"You're making this difficult."
"You made it difficult when you kidnapped my wife."
He sighed.
"Always so emotional."
I stared at him.
"Where is she?"
He looked toward a door at the far end of the warehouse.
"Bring her out."
Two men emerged.
Between them was Corinne.
My heart stopped.
She was pale.
Her hair hung loose around her face.
There was a bruise near her temple.
Her wrists were bound.
But she was alive.
"Corinne."
She looked up.
For a moment, her expression was unreadable.
Then her eyes filled with tears.
"Grant?"
I took a step forward.
One of the men raised his gun.
"Stop."
I froze.
My father smiled.
"Now. The ledger."
I looked at Corinne.
She shook her head almost imperceptibly.
Don't.
I understood.
She would rather risk her life than let him destroy the evidence.
My father extended his hand again.
"Grant."
I slowly opened the briefcase.
Inside was the duplicate ledger.
I lifted it.
"Here."
He stepped closer.
Then Corinne screamed.
"GRANT, LOOK OUT!"
I turned.
A gunshot exploded.
Pain tore through my shoulder.
I stumbled backward.
The ledger fell.
My father shouted.
Someone screamed.
May you like
Then the warehouse erupted in gunfire.
And the last thing I saw before hitting the floor was Corinne running toward me.
