Chapter 3 - THE MAN WHO KNEW ABOUT THE WATCH
For two days, nobody was allowed to visit me without my father's approval.
Not friends.
Not business associates.
Not even Julian's parents.
The hospital room became a quiet fortress.
My son slept beside me in a small transparent bassinet.
I named him Elias.
Julian had wanted the name Alexander.
I had always liked Elias.
Now it felt like the first decision I had made entirely for myself.
My father stood by the window when I told him.
“Elias,” he repeated.
I smiled faintly.
“Yes.”
“Strong name.”
“He'll need one.”
Dad looked at me.
“Why?”
“Because his father won't be protecting him.”
Dad said nothing.
I expected him to agree.
Instead, he walked toward the door.
“There's someone you need to meet.”
A man entered.
Late fifties.
Gray hair.
Thin glasses.
Ordinary brown coat.
He looked like a professor who had gotten lost in the wrong hospital.
“This is Samuel Ortiz.”
Samuel sat beside my bed.
“I worked with your father years ago.”
I looked at Dad.
“Military?”
“Intelligence.”
Samuel gave a tired smile.
“That's a generous description.”
Dad crossed his arms.
“Samuel was the man who designed the emergency system in your watch.”
I stared at the device.
“The button?”
“Yes.”
“Who else knew?”
Samuel hesitated.
“Three people.”
“Who?”
“Your father. Me. And one engineer who died six years ago.”
I exhaled.
“Then how did Julian know?”
Samuel looked at Dad.
That exchange frightened me.
“What?”
Samuel finally answered.
“He didn't.”
I frowned.
“Then who did?”
Samuel reached into his coat and removed a photograph.
It showed a man standing near the resort marina.
The same unidentified man from the lighthouse footage.
Samuel turned the photograph over.
Written on the back was a name.
Evan Cross.
I had never heard it.
Dad had.
His face hardened.
“That's impossible.”
“Why?”
“Because Evan Cross died eleven years ago.”
Samuel looked at him.
“Then someone is using a dead man's identity.”
The room fell silent.
I looked down at Elias.
“What does any of this have to do with Julian?”
Dad pulled a chair closer.
“Everything.”
He explained what I had never been told.
My family trust wasn't simply an inheritance.
My mother had created it after my grandfather died.
The trust held controlling interests in several shipping companies, defense contractors, and technology firms.
But one clause was unusual.
If I died before my twenty-fifth birthday, control passed to a temporary board.
If I died after twenty-five but before producing an heir, control passed to a separate family foundation.
But if I had a child, control remained within my direct bloodline.
I stared at him.
“So Elias…”
“Is the legal heir to everything.”
My stomach tightened.
Julian hadn't simply wanted my money.
He had wanted access to a fortune that would eventually belong to our son.
“That's why he tried to kill me?”
Dad nodded.
“Possibly.”
“Possibly?”
“There's more.”
He placed another file on the table.
Inside were financial records.
For the past eighteen months, someone had been moving money through Julian's company.
Millions.
Not to Julian.
Not to Victoria.
To shell corporations.
One of those corporations had recently purchased a small private island in the Caribbean.
The registered owner was a company called Sterling Maritime Holdings.
My blood went cold.
“That's our family name.”
“Exactly.”
Dad leaned forward.
“We never created it.”
The room suddenly felt smaller.
“Someone created a company using our name.”
“Six years ago.”
“That was before I married Julian.”
“Yes.”
“Who signed the documents?”
Dad looked at Samuel.
Samuel answered.
“A man using the name Evan Cross.”
I stared at him.
The same dead man.
The same name appearing in the resort investigation.
Then Elias began crying.
I picked him up.
His tiny fingers closed around mine.
Dad watched us.
“We're dealing with someone who has been planning this for years.”
I whispered, “Then Julian was only part of it.”
“Yes.”
That afternoon, an attorney arrived.
Her name was Rebecca Sloan.
She had represented my mother's trust for twenty years.
She brought another piece of information.
“Genevieve, your mother wants you to know she never authorized any transfer involving Julian.”
“She's alive?”
Rebecca nodded.
I laughed bitterly.
“My mother didn't come to my wedding.”
“She couldn't.”
“Why?”
Rebecca hesitated.
“Because she believed someone was watching the family.”
My eyes widened.
“What does that mean?”
Rebecca placed a photograph on the table.
It showed my mother standing outside a Paris hotel.
Beside her was another woman.
Victoria Hayes.
I stared.
“No.”
Rebecca nodded.
“Your mother met Victoria six years ago.”
My heart began pounding.
“Why?”
“We don't know.”
“Did Julian know?”
“We don't know.”
Then my phone rang.
It was a number I didn't recognize.
I answered.
Nobody spoke.
Then a man's voice whispered:
“Congratulations, Genevieve.”
I froze.
“Who is this?”
“You survived the water.”
Dad immediately stood.
The voice continued.
“That changes things.”
I looked toward the window.
Outside, snow had begun falling over the city.
“Who are you?”
A pause.
Then:
“Look at the red lighthouse.”
The call ended.
My father took the phone from my hand.
Samuel rushed to the window.
Nothing.
No lighthouse.
Just Manhattan.
Then I realized.
The red lighthouse wasn't in New York.
May you like
It was in Cabo.
And whoever had called me knew I understood the message.
