Chapter 6 - THE ALTERNATE GUARDIAN
I wanted Grant to be lying.
That was the easiest possibility.
Grant had already lied about Celeste.
About the camera.
About the custody planning.
About knowing the truth surrounding Ellie’s conception.
Distrusting him required no effort.
Distrusting my father required considerably more.
But once Grant said the words, memories began arranging themselves against my will.
My father questioning whether I was sleeping enough.
My father recommending a private physician after I complained of headaches.
My father repeatedly offering to have Ellie stay at the family estate “so you can recover.”
At the time, it had felt paternal.
Now it looked like evidence.
“Show me.”
Grant pointed toward the flash drive.
“Everything I have is there.”
I did not take my eyes off him.
“Why would my father want control when he already sits on the council?”
“Because your seat limits his.”
“How?”
“You have veto authority.”
“I didn’t even know the council existed.”
“But the trust does.”
Grant looked exhausted.
“Your grandfather didn’t trust any one person.
Not even his own son.
Especially his own son.”
“My father loved him.”
“Those two things aren’t mutually exclusive.”
My hand closed around the flash drive.
“Where did you get the alternate guardian clause?”
“Celeste.”
“What exactly was Celeste doing?”
Grant leaned back against the pew.
“She’s an investigative accountant.”
I almost laughed.
“She told me she was a brand consultant.”
“That was the cover story.”
“You brought an undercover accountant into our marriage and slept with her.”
“I’m not defending that.”
“Good.”
“I’m telling you she approached me because she had been investigating Mercury Residential Services.”
The company tied to the cameras.
“Why?”
“Her brother worked there.”
“Worked?”
“He died last year.”
“How?”
“Officially?
Overdose.”
“And she didn’t believe it?”
“No.”
“What did he do?”
“Security installation.”
My stomach tightened.
“He installed the cameras.”
Grant shook his head.
“He discovered them.”
“Where?”
“In several Kingsley properties.”
Not just mine.
“How many?”
“He told Celeste he found unauthorized surveillance in five homes.
Yours was one.”
“Why didn’t he report it?”
“He did.
To his supervisor.”
“What happened?”
“He was fired two days later.”
“And dead?”
“Three weeks after that.”
A church door opened somewhere behind us.
I turned.
An elderly woman entered, dipped two fingers into holy water, and walked toward the front.
Ordinary life continuing around extraordinary betrayal.
I lowered my voice.
“What was Celeste looking for at the hotel?”
“A ledger her brother kept.”
“Did she find it?”
“I don’t know.”
“Who took you?”
Grant frowned.
“No one took me.”
“Your call ended with another man there.”
“I followed him.”
“You what?”
“He showed me a picture of Celeste getting into a car.
He said if I wanted to know where she went, follow him.”
“And you did?”
“Yes.”
“That was spectacularly stupid.”
“Yes.”
“Who was he?”
“Someone who called himself Daniel Cross.”
Nathan’s voice came through the tiny earpiece hidden beneath my hair.
Ask Grant to describe him.
I did.
“Mid-forties.
Six feet.
Black coat.
Scar under left ear.
American.
Maybe former military.”
Nathan said nothing for several seconds.
Then:
Leave now.
My heart accelerated.
“Why?”
Grant heard me.
“Who are you talking to?”
I ignored him.
Nathan repeated.
Mara, leave the church immediately.
I stood.
Grant stood too.
“What?”
I moved toward the side aisle.
Nathan’s voice came again.
Daniel Cross is dead.
I stopped.
“What?”
Grant stared at me.
Nathan continued.
**Real name Daniel Crossley.
Former Kingsley executive protection.
Killed in 2019.**
I turned toward Grant.
“The man you followed is dead.”
His face drained.
“No.”
“What happened after you followed him?”
Grant looked toward the church doors.
“He took me to an apartment.”
“Where?”
“Queens.”
“Celeste?”
“Not there.”
“What was there?”
“Photographs.
Files.
A laptop.”
“And?”
Grant swallowed.
“A video of you.”
I felt cold.
“What video?”
“You were seventeen.”
I stared.
“In the video, you were arguing with your grandfather.”
“That’s impossible.”
“Why?”
“My grandfather never allowed cameras in his private study.”
Grant’s expression changed.
“That’s exactly what he said.”
“Who?”
“Your grandfather.”
The air left my lungs.
Grant continued.
“It wasn’t just you in the video.
He was there.
Your father was there.
Victor Hale was there.”
“What were they arguing about?”
“You.”
I gripped the back of a pew.
“What about me?”
Grant looked genuinely afraid to answer.
“Your grandfather was accusing your father of trying to change your medical records.”
I said nothing.
Grant continued.
“And then Victor said something.”
“What?”
“That the records weren’t really about your health.”
I waited.
“They were about whether you could have children.”
A memory flashed.
Seventeen.
Hospital.
Three days I barely remembered.
My parents telling me I had severe appendicitis during a boarding-school break.
A scar.
Recovery.
My mother sleeping beside me.
My grandfather disappearing from my life emotionally for nearly a year afterward.
“What exactly did Victor say?”
Grant looked at me.
“He said, ‘If Alexander finds out the procedure failed, he’ll try again.’”
My hands began shaking.
“What procedure?”
“I don’t know.”
I turned away.
Nathan’s voice became urgent.
Mara, I need you out now.
“Why?”
Because Rachel just identified a man outside the church matching Grant’s description of Daniel Cross.
I looked toward the entrance.
Through the narrow glass panel, a tall man in a black coat stood across the street.
He was looking directly at me.
Then he lifted a phone.
My satellite device vibrated.
A new message.
YOU’RE FINALLY ASKING THE RIGHT QUESTIONS.
Below it was an address in Connecticut.
My grandfather’s old estate.
May you like
And beneath the address:
COME BEFORE YOUR FATHER DOES.
