Chapter 4 - The Accident That Wasn't an Accident
Caitlyn had spent three years believing a patch of black ice destroyed her family.
Now a stranger was telling her that belief might be a lie.
“Put him on speaker,” she said.
Damian looked at her.
“Caitlyn—”
“Please.”
He activated the speaker.
“Mr. Mercer,” she said, struggling to steady her voice. “Where is my brother?”
A pause.
“Miss Elmore.”
Her stomach twisted.
“You know me?”
“Better than you realize.”
“Then you know Noah needs medication.”
“He's receiving appropriate care.”
“Let me hear him.”
“Unfortunately, your brother isn't much of a conversationalist.”
Damian's hand tightened around the phone.
“Careful, Arthur.”
Mercer chuckled.
“Still pretending you can control every room?”
“Tell me what you want.”
“Your father's archive.”
Damian frowned.
“It was destroyed.”
“No. It was hidden.”
“By whom?”
“By the same man who tried to keep your father alive.”
The connection ended.
Caitlyn stared at the silent phone.
Then she turned toward Damian.
“What happened to your father?”
Vincent moved toward the door.
“I'll give you two a moment.”
“No,” Damian said.
Vincent stopped.
“She deserves the truth.”
Damian sat opposite Caitlyn.
“My father, Thomas Hamilton, was killed when I was eighteen.”
“Who killed him?”
“We never proved it.”
“Why would his attorney know about my parents?”
“I don't know.”
Caitlyn searched his face.
“You're holding something back.”
Damian looked away.
“My father was involved in organized crime. Shipping routes. Smuggling networks. Protection payments.”
She swallowed.
“And you?”
“I inherited his company. I spent years trying to separate legitimate businesses from the men who believed they owned them.”
“Trying?”
His expression tightened.
“Some of those men didn't accept retirement.”
Caitlyn folded her arms.
“My parents were accountants.”
Damian looked up sharply.
“Accountants?”
“My father handled corporate audits. My mother worked in financial compliance.”
“Which firm?”
“Ellison, Price and Ward.”
Vincent went rigid.
Damian noticed.
“What?”
Vincent hesitated.
“That firm handled the original Hamilton family trusts.”
Caitlyn stared at him.
“No.”
Damian stood.
“Pull their employment records.”
Within an hour, the connection became undeniable.
Caitlyn's father, Michael Elmore, had worked on an internal audit involving Hamilton Holdings' predecessor company.
Her mother, Rebecca, had helped document suspicious transactions connected to an offshore holding structure.
Three years earlier, they had requested access to sealed financial records.
Six days later, their car went off the road.
Caitlyn sat motionless.
“I remember the police saying the tires lost traction.”
Vincent opened another file.
“There was an independent inspection.”
“What inspection?”
“Your parents' insurance company commissioned one.”
“Why wasn't I told?”
“The report was marked inconclusive.”
Damian leaned forward.
“Read it.”
Vincent hesitated.
“Brake fluid contamination. Possible deliberate interference.”
Caitlyn felt the room tilt.
“No.”
Her voice was barely audible.
“My mother called me that morning.”
Damian said nothing.
“She told me she'd found something important. She said she would explain everything after dinner.”
A tear rolled down Caitlyn's cheek.
“She never came home.”
Damian moved around the desk.
This time, he didn't stop himself.
He crouched beside her chair.
“Look at me.”
She shook her head.
“Caitlyn.”
Her eyes met his.
“We don't know who caused that accident.”
“But someone did.”
“Possibly.”
“And you think Mercer knows?”
“Yes.”
“Then find him.”
Damian nodded.
“I will.”
She wiped her face.
“Don't make promises because you feel sorry for me.”
His expression changed.
“I don't pity you.”
“Then what?”
He hesitated.
For once, the right words escaped him.
“I think you've been carrying more than anyone should.”
Caitlyn looked away.
That was worse than pity.
Because it sounded like understanding.
That evening, Vincent discovered that Michael Elmore had mailed a package shortly before his death.
The destination was a private storage facility outside Philadelphia.
The package had never been collected.
Damian arranged for a court-authorized retrieval through the estate's surviving paperwork.
Inside the storage box were three items.
An old photograph.
A handwritten letter.
And a small brass key.
The photograph showed Thomas Hamilton standing beside Caitlyn's parents.
A young Damian appeared in the background.
Caitlyn stared.
“You knew my family?”
Damian shook his head.
“I don't remember them.”
Vincent unfolded the letter.
It was addressed to Rebecca Elmore.
The handwriting belonged to Thomas Hamilton.
Vincent read the first line aloud.
May you like
If anything happens to me, protect the boy. Damian must never learn who his real mother is.
Damian stopped breathing.
