Chapter 8 - The Gala
The Whitmore Foundation gala was the largest social event of the year.
Politicians.
Investors.
Executives.
Old-money families.
Everyone who mattered in Boston would be there.
Thomas Mercer arrived at eight.
He wore a black tuxedo and smiled as though nothing in the world could touch him.
Adrian watched from across the ballroom.
Marissa stood beside him.
She wore a simple navy dress.
Owen was safely with a trusted caregiver.
Evan remained hidden upstairs.
Caroline was waiting for the right moment.
Walter was in the security office.
Everything was ready.
Or so Adrian hoped.
Thomas approached.
"Adrian."
"Thomas."
Thomas smiled.
"Your father tells me you've been asking questions."
"My father isn't here."
"He's ill."
"I know."
Thomas studied him.
"You've changed."
"Maybe I finally started paying attention."
Thomas's smile disappeared.
Then he leaned closer.
"You have no idea what you're dealing with."
Adrian whispered:
"I know exactly what I'm dealing with."
Thomas glanced toward Marissa.
"Does the housekeeper know about the money?"
Adrian's expression hardened.
"Don't mention her."
Thomas smiled.
"Daniel cared about her too."
That was enough.
Adrian grabbed his arm.
"You killed him."
Thomas didn't flinch.
"I did what was necessary."
Marissa stepped backward.
Thomas continued.
"Your grandfather created a powerful company. Your father almost destroyed it. I saved it."
"By stealing?"
"By taking what I deserved."
Adrian stared.
"You murdered my mother."
Thomas shrugged.
"She was going to expose me."
"And Daniel?"
"Same problem."
Evan emerged from the staircase.
Thomas froze.
For the first time, fear appeared on his face.
"Evan."
Evan walked toward him.
"You remember me."
Thomas looked around.
Guests were beginning to notice.
Adrian raised his phone.
A red recording icon was visible.
"You just confessed."
Thomas laughed.
"You think that's enough?"
Then the ballroom doors opened.
Federal investigators entered.
Thomas's face changed.
Walter walked behind them.
Caroline followed.
Adrian had secretly provided every document to federal authorities earlier that day.
Thomas looked around.
"You planned this."
"No," Adrian said.
"Daniel planned it."
Thomas's expression hardened.
Then he pulled a small gun from beneath his jacket.
Chaos erupted.
People screamed.
Security rushed forward.
Thomas grabbed Marissa.
Adrian froze.
"Let her go."
Thomas pressed the weapon near her.
"Drop your phone."
Adrian did.
Evan stepped forward.
Thomas shouted, "Stay back!"
Marissa's breathing became rapid.
Thomas whispered into her ear:
"You should have stayed poor and invisible."
Adrian's face went cold.
"She had nothing to do with this."
"She had Daniel's evidence."
"No," Marissa said quietly.
Thomas looked at her.
"The evidence belongs to the man who left it."
She reached into her purse.
For one terrible second, Adrian thought she was going to pull out the blue envelope.
Instead she pulled out her phone.
She pressed a button.
The ballroom speakers suddenly came alive.
Thomas's own voice filled the room.
Every confession.
Every threat.
Every detail.
The recording was being broadcast live.
Thomas stared at her.
"You—"
Marissa stepped away.
Security tackled him.
The gun slid across the marble floor.
Federal agents handcuffed Thomas.
The room fell silent.
Adrian looked at Marissa.
She was shaking.
He took her hand.
"You okay?"
She nodded.
Then someone behind them began clapping.
Slowly.
Everyone turned.
Adrian's father stood at the ballroom entrance.
Richard Whitmore.
Pale.
Weak.
But conscious.
He looked at Adrian.
"I owe you the truth."
Adrian stared at him.
"You're too late."
Richard nodded.
"I know."
Then he looked at Evan.
"I'm sorry."
Evan didn't answer.
Richard turned to Marissa.
"And I'm sorry to you too."
Marissa said nothing.
Richard reached into his coat.
He pulled out a photograph.
Daniel.
Alive.
Standing beside a lake.
Taken only six months earlier.
Adrian's heart stopped.
"Where is he?"
May you like
Richard whispered:
"He's alive."
