Chapter 15 - The Recording Behind the Christmas Wall
Finding Dad became more urgent than finding Howard.
Because I knew my father.
Or at least I remembered him.
He was patient until someone threatened his children.
Then patience disappeared.
Roman mobilized everyone he still trusted.
Marco was removed.
His access terminated.
Federal investigators were contacted through Roman's attorneys because the evidence now involved financial crimes, kidnapping, fraudulent medical records and possible homicide.
For the first time, the DeLucas stopped trying to handle the Mercer problem privately.
That mattered.
Roman's world had taught him power meant controlling everything.
But the conspiracy had grown because powerful men believed they could solve crimes behind closed doors.
Dad made that mistake.
Alessandro made it.
Howard exploited it.
Roman chose differently.
“We give them everything,” he told his lawyers.
Adrian looked surprised.
“Everything?”
“Everything.”
“Even the DeLuca accounts?”
Roman didn't hesitate.
“If my family profited from Mercer's crimes, yes.”
I looked at him differently after that.
Maybe Dad had been right to believe Roman could become different from his father.
While investigators processed the warehouse tapes, Vivian returned to DeLuca House.
She didn't ask to stay.
She came for one reason.
Her mother.
Eleanor.
Vivian remembered something from childhood.
Every Christmas, Eleanor hid gifts inside a decorative wall compartment behind the mansion ballroom.
Not DeLuca House.
The old Mercer estate.
Vivian believed Eleanor may have hidden evidence there before she died.
The property had been sold.
But the current owners were abroad.
Roman's attorneys gained access.
We entered just before midnight.
Vivian hadn't been inside in years.
She stood in the ballroom doorway.
For once, she looked young.
Not cruel.
Not polished.
Just sad.
“My mother loved Christmas.”
We searched the wall.
Nothing.
Then Vivian noticed an old wooden angel mounted above the fireplace.
“She hated that thing.”
I frowned.
“Why keep it?”
“My father liked it.”
Vivian climbed onto a chair.
Behind the angel was a small latch.
The wall panel opened.
Inside:
wrapped Christmas gifts.
Eight years old.
Never opened.
Vivian covered her mouth.
Tags written by Eleanor.
For Vivian.
For Howard.
For charity staff.
And beneath them—
a recorder.
An envelope.
Vivian opened it.
If something happens to me, give this to Roman DeLuca when he is old enough to understand what his father refused to see.
Roman stared.
The tape contained Eleanor's testimony.
She had discovered Howard's medical-debt scheme.
She copied records.
She contacted James Bennett.
She wanted to go to authorities.
Howard found out.
Her voice trembled.
“He has threatened my daughter.”
Vivian began crying.
Quietly.
No drama.
Just years of certainty collapsing.
Eleanor continued.
“James believes someone in DeLuca's accounting office is helping Howard without Alessandro's knowledge.”
Roman looked toward Adrian.
Not accusation.
Question.
Eleanor named the person.
Not Adrian.
Not Dominic Vale.
A former DeLuca executive named Frank Moretti.
Dead five years.
The internal betrayal finally had a name.
Then Eleanor said something nobody expected.
“James has arranged to disappear if Howard moves against him. He says his daughters are safest if everyone believes he is dead.”
I stared at the recorder.
Dad had planned part of it.
Not the poisoning.
But after surviving, he chose disappearance.
Eleanor continued.
“There is one location Howard does not know.”
She gave an address.
A small town in Vermont.
Property registered under Mary Bennett's maiden name.
My mother's.
We searched.
The house still existed.
Taxes paid every year through cash-equivalent money orders.
Someone lived there.
I couldn't breathe.
Roman took my hand.
“We go now.”
It was nearly three in the morning.
I didn't care.
The drive took four hours.
Snow-covered roads.
Dark mountains.
Silence.
At sunrise, we reached a small cabin outside Brattleboro.
Smoke rose from the chimney.
A truck sat outside.
My heart beat so hard I thought I might be sick.
Roman stopped the SUV.
“You want me to come?”
I looked at the cabin.
“No.”
He nodded.
“I'll be here.”
I walked alone.
Every step felt impossible.
I climbed the porch.
Raised my hand.
Before I knocked, the door opened.
An older man stood there.
Gray hair.
Lines around his eyes.
A scar near his eyebrow.
My father's face.
He stared at me.
I stared back.
Neither of us spoke.
Then his mouth trembled.
“Claire.”
My knees nearly gave out.
“Dad?”
He reached for me.
I hit him.
Not hard.
Flat palm against his chest.
“You're alive.”
“I know.”
“You're alive!”
“I know.”
“Eight years!”
His eyes filled.
“I know.”
I hit him again.
Then I collapsed into his arms.
Dad held me.
The way he had when I was six.
When Mom died.
When Lily got sick.
When the world still had rules.
He whispered my name over and over.
I cried until I couldn't breathe.
Eventually I pulled away.
“Lily.”
“She knows?”
“She knows you're alive.”
Dad closed his eyes.
“I didn't want this.”
“What did you want? For us to bury you twice?”
Pain crossed his face.
“I wanted you safe.”
“You don't get to use that sentence.”
He nodded.
“You're right.”
That was harder than an excuse would have been.
Then Dad looked past me.
Roman stood beside the SUV.
Dad's expression changed.
“So that's Roman DeLuca.”
“You've been watching him.”
“Yes.”
“Creepy.”
“I deserved that.”
“Why did you come back?”
Dad's face hardened.
“Howard found Lily.”
I swallowed.
“And?”
“And I decided hiding had stopped protecting anyone.”
“Where is Howard?”
Dad looked toward the mountains.
“I know exactly where he's going.”
“Where?”
“The place this started.”
“Which is?”
Dad looked at me.
“Mercer Capital's original medical archive.”
Roman had approached now.
Dad continued.
“Howard is going there to burn the last records.”
“And if he destroys them?”
Dad shook his head.
“He won't.”
“Why?”
For the first time, my father smiled.
“Because eight years ago, I replaced the originals.”
Roman frowned.
“With what?”
“Copies.”
“Where are the real ones?”
Dad looked at me.
“Somewhere Howard would never search.”
I understood before Roman did.
“DeLuca House.”
Dad nodded.
“Inside the Christmas ballroom wall.”
Roman stared.
“Our wall?”
“Your mother allowed me to repair electrical panels there years ago.”
Roman looked almost offended.
“You hid federal evidence in my house?”
Dad shrugged.
“It seemed funny at the time.”
Despite everything, I laughed.
Then Dad's expression became serious.
“There is one problem.”
Of course there was.
“What?”
“The archive includes something Howard will kill to prevent anyone seeing.”
“Worse than everything else?”
“Yes.”
Dad looked directly at Roman.
“It proves Howard didn't only steal from your family.”
Roman waited.
“He arranged the crash that killed your brother.”
The air changed.
Roman went completely still.
And suddenly, the final battle wasn't only mine anymore.
May you like
Howard Mercer had destroyed both our families—and now Roman finally had a reason more personal than business to want the truth exposed.
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