Chapter 9 - The Father Who Came Back From the Dead
Claire had imagined seeing her father again a thousand different ways.
She had imagined running into his arms.
Crying against his shoulder.
Asking why he had abandoned her.
She had never imagined meeting him with a gun pointed at his back.
"Claire," Thomas whispered.
She could barely breathe.
"Dad?"
His eyes filled.
"My little girl."
Adrian Cross pressed the gun closer to Thomas's shoulder.
"Touching reunion. Unfortunately, we have business."
Vincent stepped in front of Claire.
"Adrian."
Cross smiled.
"Brother."
Vincent's face hardened.
"You don't get to call me that."
"Why not? We share a father."
"We share blood. That doesn't make us family."
Cross laughed.
"Spoken like the son who inherited everything."
Claire moved slightly.
"Let my father go."
Cross looked at her.
"Give me the ledger."
"Where is it?"
"Don't play games."
Claire stared at him.
"You spent years looking for it. You think I found it in one afternoon?"
Cross's smile faded.
"Margaret left instructions."
"She left a lot of instructions."
Thomas looked at Claire.
"Don't give him anything."
Cross struck him across the face.
Claire cried out.
Vincent moved.
Cross raised the gun.
"One more step."
Vincent stopped.
The room went silent.
Then Elena spoke from the hallway.
"Adrian."
Cross turned.
She stepped into view, holding a tablet.
"I have what you want."
Claire looked at her.
Elena's hands were trembling.
Cross smiled.
"Finally."
She held up the screen.
A file directory appeared.
INSURANCE LEDGER — ORIGINAL.
Cross took a step toward her.
"Send it."
Elena shook her head.
"Release Thomas first."
Cross laughed.
"You really think you're negotiating?"
"I think you're running out of time."
Police sirens sounded in the distance.
Cross's expression changed.
He looked toward the windows.
Then back at Elena.
"You called them?"
She nodded.
"Before I came inside."
Cross raised his gun.
Vincent lunged.
The weapon discharged.
Claire screamed.
The bullet struck a steel cabinet.
Vincent slammed Cross against the desk.
The gun fell.
Thomas grabbed Claire and pulled her away.
Marco rushed through the doorway with two officers.
Within seconds, Cross was on the floor.
Handcuffed.
Furious.
"It's not over!" he shouted.
Vincent stood over him.
"For you, it is."
Cross looked toward Claire.
Then he smiled.
"You think I planned this?"
Claire stared at him.
He laughed.
"I was hired."
The words cut through the room.
Vincent turned.
"By whom?"
Cross said nothing.
An officer pulled him to his feet.
He looked at Thomas.
"You know."
Thomas went pale.
Cross's smile widened.
"Tell your daughter what happened the night you disappeared."
Then the officers took him away.
For several seconds, no one moved.
Claire turned to her father.
"What did he mean?"
Thomas looked exhausted.
"Not tonight."
She stared at him.
"Don't."
"Claire—"
"I spent twenty-three years believing you were dead. You don't get to come back and tell me to wait."
Thomas closed his eyes.
"You're right."
He sat down.
"The night I disappeared, I wasn't only running from Vincent's father."
Claire's heart pounded.
"Who else?"
Thomas looked at Vincent.
"Your mother."
Vincent went still.
"My mother died when I was twenty."
Thomas shook his head.
"She died publicly."
Vincent stared at him.
"What?"
"She helped me disappear. She knew your father would kill me if I stayed."
Claire looked between them.
"Then why would Cross say she hired him?"
Thomas swallowed.
"Because after she helped me escape, something changed."
Vincent stepped closer.
"Where is she?"
Thomas shook his head.
"I don't know."
Vincent's face hardened.
"You're lying."
"I'm not."
Claire watched her husband's expression.
His mother, Lucia Moretti, had supposedly died in a car accident.
Vincent had rarely spoken about her.
But Claire knew he visited her grave every year.
Sometimes alone.
Sometimes with flowers he refused to explain.
Now Thomas was telling him that the woman he had mourned for two decades might still be alive.
Before anyone could speak again, Rebecca entered.
"The federal investigators have secured Cross's financial records."
Claire turned.
"Did they find the money?"
"Most of it."
"And the forged documents?"
"Enough evidence to support multiple charges."
Elena sat down, trembling.
She had agreed to cooperate fully.
But cooperation would not erase her crimes.
Claire knew that.
So did Elena.
Vincent looked at his wife.
"Claire."
She turned.
He hesitated.
Then said, "Whatever happens next, I want you safe."
Claire looked at him for a long moment.
Finally, she opened her handbag.
She removed the white envelope.
The same envelope she had carried to Harbor Point.
The one that had remained hidden through every revelation.
Vincent stared at it.
"What is that?"
Claire's hands shook.
She took out the ultrasound photograph.
Then she placed it in his hand.
Vincent looked down.
For several seconds, he did not understand.
Then he saw the tiny shape.
The printed date.
The medical information.
His face changed.
"Claire?"
She swallowed.
"I'm eight weeks pregnant."
Vincent stopped breathing.
He looked at the photograph again.
Then at her.
"You're having a baby?"
She nodded.
Tears filled his eyes.
"Our baby?"
"Yes."
Vincent lowered himself into a chair.
The most feared man in Boston covered his mouth with one hand.
He began to cry.
Claire had imagined this moment so differently.
But she still felt something soften inside her.
Vincent looked up.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
She answered quietly.
"I came to Harbor Point to tell you."
He closed his eyes.
The meaning struck him.
She had arrived carrying the happiest news of their marriage.
And he had greeted her by kissing another woman.
Vincent looked broken.
"I'm sorry."
Claire wiped away a tear.
"I know."
He reached toward her.
Then stopped.
He waited.
After a long moment, Claire allowed him to hold her hand.
Nothing more.
But for Vincent, it was the first sign that their story might not be finished.
Then Thomas spoke from the doorway.
"Claire, there's one more thing."
She turned.
Her father looked terrified.
"The person who ordered the attack on your grandmother's trust wasn't Adrian."
Claire felt cold.
"Who was it?"
May you like
Thomas looked directly at Vincent.
"Someone who has been living inside your family for years."
