Chapter 3 - THE NAME ON THE FILE
By sunrise, the mansion had become a fortress.
Security teams searched every vehicle.
Every employee.
Every camera.
Every entrance.
Grace remained in the guest wing with Amara.
I didn't trust anyone.
Not even myself.
At eight fifteen, Silas entered my study carrying a folder.
“We found the sedan.”
“Where?”
“Registered to a shell company.”
“Name?”
“Blackridge Holdings.”
I stared at him.
“Who owns it?”
“Technically, no one.”
“Technically?”
“The company was dissolved three years ago.”
I opened the folder.
Inside was a photograph.
The woman in the blue coat.
Clara.
My wife's sister.
Alive.
My jaw tightened.
“Find her.”
“We're trying.”
“No.”
I looked at Silas.
“Find her.”
He nodded.
Then hesitated.
“There is something else.”
“What?”
“The shell company had one active bank account.”
“Where?”
“Boston.”
I stood.
“Get the car ready.”
Silas looked surprised.
“Boss, you're going?”
“Yes.”
“You should stay here.”
“Someone stole my daughter.”
My voice was flat.
“I'm done waiting.”
The Boston address belonged to an abandoned bookstore.
Inside, dust covered the shelves.
There was no one there.
But beneath the counter, we found a hidden compartment.
Inside was a medical file.
My name.
My wife's name.
Lily's name.
And a fourth name.
Evelyn Hale.
My mother.
I stared at the page.
My mother had died when I was twenty-three.
Or so I thought.
Silas looked at me.
“Boss?”
I couldn't speak.
There were documents beneath the file.
Bank transfers.
Hospital payments.
Private investigators.
For two years, someone had been paying for Lily's medical care.
And the account belonged to my mother.
I felt something inside me crack.
“My mother was dead.”
Silas didn't answer.
We searched the building.
Then found a room upstairs.
A child's room.
Toys.
Books.
A tiny bed.
On the wall were photographs.
Lily.
At two years old.
Walking.
Laughing.
Holding a stuffed rabbit.
I reached toward the photograph.
My hand trembled.
She looked like her mother.
But her eyes were mine.
A sound came from behind us.
A floorboard.
Silas turned.
A woman stepped into the doorway.
Blue coat.
Dark hair.
Clara.
She raised both hands.
“Don't shoot.”
I stared at her.
“You stole my daughter.”
“No.”
“You lied to me.”
“I was protecting her.”
“From whom?”
She looked at the photograph.
“Your father.”
My blood went cold.
“My father is dead.”
“He is.”
“Then explain.”
Clara stepped closer.
“Your father wasn't the man you believed him to be.”
I laughed once.
A bitter sound.
“You have five seconds.”
She swallowed.
“Your father had enemies.”
“Everyone has enemies.”
“He also had a second family.”
I froze.
“What?”
Clara looked at me.
“Your mother didn't die.”
“She did.”
“She disappeared.”
“Same thing.”
“No.”
Clara shook her head.
“Your father ordered her disappearance.”
My mind raced.
“Why?”
“Because she found out about his criminal network.”
I stared at her.
“My father built the company.”
“He built the legitimate company.”
“And the rest?”
Clara's eyes hardened.
“He built the organization you inherited.”
Silas went silent.
I knew about my family's criminal history.
But I had always believed my father had kept it away from me.
Maybe that had been another lie.
“Where is Lily?”
Clara looked toward the stairs.
“She isn't here.”
My heart dropped.
“Where?”
“She was moved yesterday.”
“By whom?”
Clara hesitated.
Then whispered:
“Your mother.”
I couldn't breathe.
“My mother is alive?”
Clara nodded.
“And she has Lily.”
A phone rang.
Not mine.
Clara's.
She looked at the screen.
Her face went white.
“They know we're here.”
“Who?”
She whispered:
May you like
“Your father's people.”
Then the first gunshot shattered the window.
