Chapter 5 - The Dead Man Who Came Home
Maria Russo fainted.
For the next hour, the Moretti estate became controlled chaos.
A doctor examined her while Avery paced outside the bedroom clutching the photograph.
Cameron remained nearby.
He did not tell her to calm down.
He did not touch her.
For once, he seemed to understand that his presence was all he was allowed to offer.
When Maria woke, Avery entered alone.
“Tell me.”
Maria stared at the photograph.
“I thought he was dead.”
“You recognized him immediately.”
“He was my husband.”
“Did you know he survived?”
“No.”
Avery wanted to believe her.
She also knew how many lies had already been called protection.
“Mom.”
“I swear to you.”
Maria began crying.
“The body was burned. They gave me his wedding ring. Cameron’s father told me identifying him would expose us. I believed them.”
Outside, Cameron heard enough to look sick.
By midnight, Julian’s team had traced the photograph.
It had been taken eleven days earlier.
Anthony Russo had entered the warehouse under the name Aaron Ross.
Avery insisted on going.
Cameron refused.
Then Avery reminded him of their agreement.
“You promised no more decisions about my life without me.”
“I promised truth.”
“You’re splitting hairs.”
“I’m keeping you alive.”
“Then keep me alive beside you.”
His jaw flexed.
“You have no idea what you’re asking.”
“I’m asking to find my father.”
Finally Cameron surrendered.
The warehouse was empty when they arrived.
Except for one chair.
One envelope sat on it.
AVERY.
Her hands trembled as she opened it.
Inside was a key and a note.
Little Bird, if you’re reading this, Cameron finally found the trail. Trust him more than you trust me. I’m sorry. —Dad
Avery sat down hard.
Cameron read the note over her shoulder.
“Little Bird?” he asked quietly.
“My dad called me that.”
No newspaper knew it.
No company file would contain it.
Anthony was alive.
Avery cried then.
Not delicately.
Fourteen years of grief broke open at once.
Cameron knelt before her.
For several seconds his hands hovered uselessly.
Then Avery reached for him.
That was all the permission he needed.
He pulled her against his chest.
She buried her face against his coat.
Cameron held her as if she were something precious and breakable, though Avery had never felt less breakable in her life.
“I hate him,” she whispered.
“I know.”
“I want him.”
“I know.”
“I hate that I want him.”
“I know.”
She pulled back.
“You say that a lot.”
“I don’t know what else to say.”
“Try something useful.”
His thumb wiped a tear from her cheek.
“All right.”
His voice softened.
“We’ll find him.”
The key opened a locker at Grand Central Terminal.
Inside was a flash drive.
And another photograph.
This one showed Victor Calder shaking hands with Bradley Hayes.
Behind them stood three city officials.
Julian plugged the drive into an isolated laptop.
Files appeared.
Bank transfers.
Shipping manifests.
Names.
Enough evidence to destroy Victor’s entire organization.
Then a video file opened.
Anthony Russo appeared on-screen.
Older.
Tired.
Alive.
Avery stopped breathing.
“If Avery is watching this, sweetheart, I owe you fourteen years.”
His voice cracked.
“I survived the truck explosion. Calder’s men believed I died. I wanted to come home. God, I wanted to. But when I learned Calder was watching your mother, I realized a dead man could protect you better than a living father.”
Avery covered her mouth.
Anthony explained that he had spent years infiltrating Calder’s financial network.
Waiting.
Collecting proof.
Then his expression changed.
“Cameron, if you’re there, you owe me.”
Cameron leaned closer.
Anthony almost smiled.
“Still drinking terrible black coffee?”
Avery looked at Cameron.
He actually smiled.
Briefly.
Then Anthony continued.
“Calder has someone inside your organization.”
Cameron’s smile disappeared.
“Someone close.”
The video distorted.
“One more thing. Bradley Hayes is not the architect. He’s a puppet. Calder wants you angry enough to make mistakes.”
The screen flickered again.
“If he learns Avery matters to you, he’ll use her.”
Avery glanced toward Cameron.
Anthony’s final words came softly.
“And Cameron? If my daughter matters for reasons that have nothing to do with me, tell her before somebody else decides what that means.”
The video ended.
Silence filled the room.
Julian found the ceiling fascinating.
Avery slowly turned toward Cameron.
“Well?”
Cameron looked murderous.
Not at her.
At Anthony.
“Your father has terrible timing.”
“Cameron.”
He exhaled.
Then the billionaire who frightened boardrooms and commanded armed men looked genuinely uncertain.
“You matter for reasons that have nothing to do with him.”
Avery’s heart accelerated.
“How?”
His eyes held hers.
“You know how.”
She did.
The kiss almost happened.
Almost.
Then every light in the station locker room died.
Julian swore.
Cameron grabbed Avery and pulled her behind him.
Emergency lights flashed red.
A phone rang inside the locker.
A phone none of them had placed there.
Cameron answered.
Victor Calder’s voice filled the darkness.
“Hello, nephew.”
Cameron went still.
Calder chuckled.
“You finally found Anthony’s little bird.”
Then came a sound from the other end.
A man groaning.
Avery’s blood turned to ice.
May you like
Calder said softly:
“Would you like your father back, sweetheart?”
