Chapter 8 - THE INHERITANCE OF LIES
Nobody moved.
Celia heard the water hitting the old terminal walls.
She heard Stellan breathing unevenly.
She heard her mother's quiet sobs.
But the words continued echoing inside her head.
Both boys must disappear.
And the girl must never learn what her father signed.
"What did my father sign?" she asked.
Her mother looked at her.
"A trust agreement."
"Explain."
"Your father was translating a legal document for Anton Varo. He discovered that the shipping empire wasn't entirely owned by the Varo family."
Celia stared.
"Who owned it?"
Her mother looked at Stellan.
"Your father."
Stellan's expression hardened.
"My father?"
"No. Your father believed he controlled everything. But Daniel discovered that a portion of the legitimate shipping business had been placed in a private trust."
She looked at Celia.
"Your father was the beneficiary's legal representative."
Celia felt dizzy.
"Why?"
"Because Anton didn't trust his own family. He believed someone was planning to take everything from his sons."
Stellan looked toward the recording device.
"And my mother?"
"She found out."
Her mother continued.
"She wanted the trust. She approached Julian. She promised him control of the company if he helped remove Stellan."
Julian laughed.
"Your mother is leaving out a few details."
Celia turned toward him.
"What details?"
"Your father didn't merely translate the agreement. He changed it."
Her mother shook her head.
"That's not true."
Julian stepped closer.
"He changed the beneficiary."
Stellan's eyes narrowed.
"To whom?"
Julian looked at Celia.
"Her."
The room seemed to become smaller.
Celia shook her head.
"No."
"Your father moved the controlling shares into a trust under your name. He believed you would be the only person outside the family who couldn't be easily manipulated."
Stellan looked at Celia.
"Did you know?"
"Of course not!"
"How can I know that?"
The question hurt.
But Celia understood it.
She had been lying to herself about how much she trusted him, too.
She stepped toward the desk.
"Where's the original?"
Julian smiled.
"That's the interesting part."
He reached into his jacket and removed a small key.
"The original agreement is inside the terminal's vault. But the vault requires two separate codes."
Celia stared at the key.
"And you don't have them."
"Not both."
He turned toward her.
"Your father gave one to you."
"I was fifteen when he died."
"Exactly."
Julian pulled a folded piece of paper from his pocket.
It was an old birthday card.
Celia recognized it immediately.
Her father had written it for her sixteenth birthday.
She had never received it.
Her hands began shaking.
"Where did you get that?"
"From the house where your mother kept it."
Celia's mother looked away.
"Mom?"
"I was trying to protect you."
"By hiding my father's last letter?"
"I was afraid."
Julian placed the card on the desk.
"Read it."
Celia unfolded the paper.
The message was simple.
My little star, if you ever find yourself in a room where everyone is telling you the same thing, listen carefully to the person who isn't speaking.
Below the message was a sequence of numbers.
Celia recognized them.
They were not a vault code.
They were a phonetic sequence.
Her father's linguistic fingerprint.
She looked at the recording device.
Then at the old Russian document.
The punctuation pattern.
The repeated syllables.
The altered clause.
Everything connected.
"You're not looking for the vault code," she whispered.
Julian frowned.
"What?"
"The vault isn't opened with a number."
She examined the card.
"My father built a spoken key. The numbers represent stress patterns in Russian. The actual code is a sentence."
Stellan stepped closer.
"Can you identify it?"
"Maybe."
She began working.
Julian grew impatient.
"Stop wasting time."
Celia ignored him.
She matched the numbers to the handwritten text.
Then she found it.
A sentence in Russian.
She translated it aloud.
"The truth belongs to the person who survives the lie."
A metallic click sounded from somewhere beneath the desk.
The floor vibrated.
A hidden panel slid open.
Inside was a small metal case.
Julian lunged for it.
Stellan intercepted him.
The two brothers crashed against the desk.
Grekov raised his weapon.
Celia grabbed her mother's chair and pulled it sideways as the first shot struck the wall.
Archer entered through the side door.
He fired once.
Grekov dropped his weapon.
Julian managed to break free and ran toward the loading bay.
Stellan started after him.
Celia shouted.
"Stellan, the case!"
He stopped.
She opened it.
Inside were three documents, a flash drive, and a sealed envelope.
The first document confirmed the trust.
The second contained a list of names.
The third was a death certificate.
Celia stared at it.
Daniel Rowe.
Date of death: eleven years earlier.
But the signature of the attending physician was dated three days after the accident.
Her mother covered her mouth.
Celia turned the paper over.
A handwritten note appeared on the back.
If they tell you I died, don't believe them.
She looked up.
"Where is my father?"
Nobody answered.
Then Stellan's phone rang.
A number appeared on the screen.
One that had been inactive for eleven years.
Stellan answered.
A man's voice spoke.
"Tell Celia I owe her an apology."
May you like
Celia recognized it immediately.
Her father.
