Chapter 13 - Six Hours Were Over
Samuel Vance was alive.
That was the good news.
The bad news was that he had disappeared again.
By the time Adrian’s Canadian counsel reached the cottage outside Halifax, it was empty.
No sign of violence.
No broken locks.
No abandoned phone.
Just an empty house and a neighbor who reported seeing Samuel leave with his adult daughter early that morning.
Marin sat in Adrian’s office when the call ended.
“Maybe they ran.”
“Likely.”
“Then they’re alive.”
“For now.”
She hated that phrase.
Adrian turned toward Luca.
“Track transportation.”
“Already doing it.”
“No police pressure unless necessary.”
“Understood.”
Marin watched the machinery of Adrian’s world move.
Quietly.
Efficiently.
No shouting.
No dramatics.
That was what made it intimidating.
People simply did what he asked.
When the room emptied, Marin remained.
Adrian loosened his tie.
“You should go home.”
“You keep saying that.”
“Eventually it’ll work.”
She smiled faintly.
Then became serious.
“Tomorrow makes three days.”
“Since?”
“The Hawthorne.”
Adrian looked at her.
“Feels longer.”
“Yes.”
Three days.
Seventy-two hours ago, Bennett had been the biggest emotional threat in Marin’s life.
Now she knew about international shipping terminals, hidden ledgers, corrupt businessmen, missing witnesses, and the fact that billionaires apparently kept multiple emergency houses.
More disturbing than any of that, she had learned how Adrian took his coffee.
How he scratched the side of his thumb when thinking.
How he looked at his sister when Sofia wasn’t watching.
How lonely his enormous life actually was.
“I think we need to stop,” Marin said.
Adrian became still.
“This.”
She gestured between them.
“The fake relationship ended after six hours.”
“Yes.”
“But we keep acting like…”
She couldn’t finish.
“Like what?”
Marin looked at him.
“You know.”
“I want you to say it.”
“That seems unfair.”
“Probably.”
She exhaled.
“Like it didn’t.”
Adrian’s eyes held hers.
“No.”
Her chest tightened.
“No what?”
“It didn’t feel like it ended.”
Truth.
Finally.
Painful, beautiful truth.
Marin walked toward the window.
“Everything about this is a bad idea.”
“Yes.”
“You agree too easily.”
“I’ve had several days to consider it.”
“You barely know me.”
“I know enough.”
“That sentence again.”
“It remains true.”
She turned.
“What do you want?”
Adrian answered immediately.
“You.”
Marin forgot to breathe.
No flourish.
No seduction.
Just one word.
Terrifyingly clear.
“You cannot say things like that.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m trying to be sensible.”
“Is it working?”
“No.”
He walked toward her.
Stopped several feet away.
Not trapping.
Not assuming.
Just waiting.
“I don’t know how to do normal relationships,” he said.
“I noticed.”
“I don’t know how to bring someone into my life without calculating risks.”
“Very romantic.”
“I’m trying.”
She smiled despite herself.
“I also don’t know whether what I feel is real or whether you’re just the first person in years who treated me like a human being.”
“That’s less romantic.”
“It’s honest.”
Marin’s smile disappeared.
That mattered.
He continued.
“And you don’t know whether you like me or what I represented at your sister’s dinner.”
“What did you represent?”
“Proof that Bennett didn’t win.”
Marin flinched.
Adrian hated that.
But she nodded.
“That’s fair.”
“So we stop pretending.”
“What does that mean?”
“No fake relationship. No performance.”
“And us?”
“If, when Corwin is finished, you still want dinner with me…”
He looked almost nervous.
“…you say yes then.”
Marin stared.
“You’re asking me out later?”
“I’m scheduling the possibility.”
“That may be the least romantic sentence anyone has ever spoken.”
He smiled.
“Still yes?”
She considered.
“Yes.”
Something warm passed between them.
No kiss.
Not yet.
But the promise of one existed now.
A knock interrupted.
Luca entered.
“We found Vance.”
Adrian straightened.
“Where?”
“Boston.”
Marin’s eyes widened.
“What?”
“He flew from Halifax to New York under his current name, rented a car, drove north.”
“Why come here?” Adrian asked.
Luca held up a phone.
“Because he wants to meet you.”
Silence.
“When?”
“Tonight.”
“Where?”
Luca hesitated.
“The Hawthorne.”
Marin almost laughed.
Of course.
That hotel again.
At nine, Adrian entered the same lounge where he had first heard Marin declare she needed a boyfriend.
This time Marin came with him.
No pretending.
Samuel Vance sat in the corner booth.
Seventy-one.
Gray hair.
Thin face.
A scar along his jaw.
His daughter, Rachel, sat beside him.
Samuel stood when Adrian approached.
For several seconds, neither spoke.
Then Samuel looked at Adrian’s face.
“You have your mother’s eyes.”
Adrian froze.
“You knew her?”
“Very well.”
They sat.
Samuel glanced at Marin.
“Family?”
The question landed strangely.
Adrian answered:
“No.”
Marin answered at the same time:
“Not exactly.”
Samuel almost smiled.
Then he became serious.
“Richard knows I’m alive.”
“We know.”
“He sent someone to my house.”
Adrian’s jaw hardened.
“What does he want?”
“The same thing he wanted twenty years ago.”
Samuel looked at him.
“Your father’s confession.”
Adrian frowned.
“What confession?”
Samuel reached into his coat.
Luca shifted.
Samuel moved slowly.
He removed a small audio cassette.
Old.
Clear plastic.
Handwritten label.
SAL — OCTOBER 2005.
Adrian stared.
“What is that?”
“Your father recorded everything.”
Samuel placed it on the table.
“He gave me this the night I disappeared.”
Adrian did not touch it.
“What’s on it?”
Samuel’s voice lowered.
“The truth about Richard Corwin.”
Marin felt Adrian’s hand find hers beneath the table.
Not for performance.
For support.
Samuel continued.
“And the truth about what your father did the night your mother died.”
Adrian went completely still.
His mother.
The subject he barely discussed.
“What does Richard have to do with my mother?”
Samuel looked at him with sadness.
“More than you know.”
The entire room seemed to disappear around Adrian.
Because suddenly South Harbor, the terminal sale, the threats, the ledgers—all of it had become secondary.
Richard Corwin had not only been hiding an old criminal network.
He had been hiding something connected to the greatest loss of Adrian’s life.
May you like
And the answer had been sitting on a cassette tape for twenty years.
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