Chapter 8 - Blood Doesn't Make a Family
Grace couldn't speak.
The words on the letter blurred.
Sebastian Martell.
The man connected to the warehouse fire.
The man who had stolen millions.
The man whose son had threatened her employees.
Her biological father.
“No,” she whispered.
Eleanor reached for her.
Grace stepped backward.
“Don't touch me.”
“Grace—”
“No. You don't get to tell me something like that and expect me to stand here calmly.”
Vincent remained silent.
Grace turned toward him.
“Did you know?”
“No.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
She laughed shakily.
“Your family has spent years keeping secrets from mine. How am I supposed to believe you?”
Vincent's voice was quiet.
“You don't have to believe me immediately.”
That answer stopped her.
He continued.
“I can't change what our families did. But I won't ask you to trust me because of my name.”
Grace looked down at the letter.
“Who was my father?”
Eleanor swallowed.
“Your mother's husband was Thomas Miller. He knew the truth. He loved you as his own.”
“Then why didn't he tell me?”
“Because he was afraid you would be taken from him.”
Grace closed her eyes.
Thomas Miller had died when she was sixteen.
She remembered his rough hands, his terrible singing, and the way he used to bring home pastries after long shifts.
He had taught her to cook.
He had sat beside her when she was sick.
He had attended every school event, even when work made him late.
He was her father.
Blood didn't change that.
But the lie still hurt.
“Did he know Sebastian was dangerous?”
Eleanor nodded.
“He knew enough.”
Grace sat on a nearby pew.
Vincent sat several feet away.
For several minutes, neither spoke.
Then Grace looked at him.
“Are we related?”
Vincent answered carefully.
“If Sebastian was your father, then yes. But we weren't raised together, and we share no family relationship through your mother.”
Grace nodded slowly.
“Good.”
He looked at her.
“Good?”
“Because I was beginning to think this story couldn't get any more complicated.”
Despite everything, Vincent almost smiled.
Eleanor handed Grace another document.
It was a birth certificate.
The original had been altered years earlier.
Grace stared at the names.
Her mother's signature was at the bottom.
Beside it was another signature.
Sebastian Martell.
Grace's hands began to shake.
“Why did my mother keep this?”
“Because she wanted you to have the truth when it was safe.”
“Safe for whom?”
Eleanor didn't answer.
A phone vibrated.
Vincent checked it.
His security chief.
“Boss, we've got a problem.”
“What?”
“Daniel has filed an emergency injunction against the Martell estate.”
Vincent frowned.
“On what grounds?”
“He's claiming that the original inheritance documents were falsified. He says he's the rightful heir to the entire family holding company.”
Grace looked up.
“Can he do that?”
“Not without proof.”
The security chief continued.
“There's more. He has a witness.”
“Who?”
A pause.
“Tony Roselli.”
Grace went cold.
“That's impossible. Tony is in the hospital.”
“Someone used his electronic signature to submit an affidavit.”
Vincent immediately called the hospital.
A nurse answered.
“Mr. Roselli was discharged an hour ago.”
Grace stood.
“He wouldn't leave without telling me.”
Vincent looked at Eleanor.
“Where would Tony go?”
Eleanor's face had gone pale.
“The old warehouse.”
They reached the warehouse twenty minutes later.
The building was abandoned, its windows broken and its doors covered in rust.
Grace entered with Vincent.
A single light burned in the office.
Tony was sitting behind an old desk.
His arm was bandaged.
Beside him stood Richard Callaway.
Daniel Bennett.
Vincent's half-brother.
Richard smiled.
“Welcome.”
Grace looked at Tony.
“What are you doing?”
Tony couldn't meet her eyes.
“I'm sorry.”
Vincent's expression hardened.
“You betrayed us.”
Tony shook his head.
“You don't understand.”
Richard laughed.
“Of course he doesn't. None of you do.”
Grace stepped forward.
“Why are you doing this?”
Richard's smile disappeared.
“Because I spent my entire life watching the Martells inherit everything while I was forced to hide in the shadows.”
“You had money. An inheritance.”
“I had scraps.”
“You had a mother who protected you.”
His eyes flashed.
“And you had a father who loved you.”
Grace froze.
Richard continued.
“Thomas Miller knew what he was doing when he raised you. He took what belonged to my father and made it his own.”
Vincent moved between them.
“Enough.”
Richard pointed toward him.
“You always had everything. The name. The company. The power.”
“And you think killing people would make you deserve it?”
Richard smiled.
“No. I think making you lose it will be much more satisfying.”
He placed a document on the desk.
The emergency injunction.
Then he pushed another paper toward Grace.
A statement acknowledging her biological relationship to Sebastian Martell.
“If you sign this, I can secure my claim and keep the business intact. You can have a generous settlement.”
Grace stared at him.
“And if I refuse?”
Richard's smile returned.
“Then I'll release something your mother spent years trying to bury.”
Vincent's eyes narrowed.
“What?”
Richard leaned closer.
“The original warehouse recording.”
He pressed a button on his phone.
A woman's voice emerged from the speaker.
Margaret's voice.
But the words were not what Grace expected.
“Sebastian, the child must never know what happened that night.”
A man's voice answered.
Then a gunshot.
The recording stopped.
Richard looked directly at Grace.
“Your mother didn't just hide the truth about your father.”
May you like
He paused.
“She helped cover up his murder.”
