Chapter 5 - The Name Stellan Refused to Say
The bank no longer carried the Cross name.
According to public records, Lakeshore Mutual had belonged to three separate corporations over the previous decade.
According to Stellan, that meant nothing.
“My father controlled it through intermediaries,” he explained as our SUV moved through downtown Chicago the following morning.
“How many businesses did your father secretly own?”
Stellan looked out the window.
“I stopped counting.”
“That sounds healthy.”
“It wasn’t.”
I held the brass key inside my closed fist.
Fern remained at the estate with Mrs. Thornbury and four guards.
I hated leaving her.
Stellan refused to bring her anywhere connected to Adrian’s message.
For once, we agreed.
The bank manager recognized Stellan immediately despite pretending not to.
His hands began sweating before we finished introducing ourselves.
Box 317 still existed.
The records were unusual.
The renter’s name was not Adrian Cross or Evan Hart.
It was registered under “F. Hart.”
Fern Hart.
Opened thirteen months before Fern was born.
“That’s impossible,” I whispered.
The manager shuffled papers.
“It appears the account was prepaid for five years.”
“Who opened it?” Stellan asked.
“I’ll need to review archival security records.”
“Do that.”
“I may need authorization.”
Stellan stared at him.
The manager stood.
“I’ll get the footage.”
Five minutes later, we entered a private vault room.
The attendant placed Box 317 on a table.
My fingers shook as I inserted the key.
Inside was no blue ledger.
Instead, there were three objects.
A flash drive.
A sealed envelope.
And a silver necklace.
I recognized the necklace immediately.
Adrian had worn it almost every day.
Simple silver chain.
Small cross pendant.
He told me it belonged to his father.
My vision blurred.
I picked it up.
“He never took this off.”
Stellan stared at it.
“My father gave that to Adrian on his eighteenth birthday.”
I closed my fingers around it.
For the first time, the man I had loved and the man Stellan remembered felt completely connected.
Not two identities.
One person.
I opened the envelope.
Inside was a handwritten letter.
This one was addressed to me.
Selene,
There is no version of this letter that makes me look like a good man.
I lied about my name.
I lied about my family.
I lied because the truth came with men who would follow you home.
By the time I wanted to tell you, I had already fallen in love with the life I borrowed.
With you.
If you are reading this, I probably failed to come back.
You may hate me.
You have the right.
But please believe one thing: none of my love was false.
I sat down.
Stellan remained silent.
The letter continued.
Marissa told me you were pregnant before you knew.
I was afraid.
Then I was happier than I had ever been.
I knew immediately what I wanted to call her.
Fern.
After the only Cross who ever made our house feel safe.
If you choose another name, I will understand.
If somehow you choose Fern too, maybe the universe is less cruel than I think.
I covered my mouth.
That explained the letter.
Adrian had not magically known Fern’s name.
He had wanted the same one.
I kept reading.
There is something else you must know.
My brother Stellan is not the man people say he is.
He has done terrible things.
So have I.
But if the choice is between him and Marcus Vale, choose Stellan.
Every time.
The blue ledger is real, but it is not here.
This drive contains the first map.
The second is hidden somewhere only my brother will recognize.
Tell Stellan this:
“Remember where Evan broke the window.”
He will understand.
I looked up.
Stellan had gone pale.
“You understand?”
He took the letter.
Read the line.
His face changed.
“Yes.”
“Where?”
He didn’t answer.
“Stellan.”
“My childhood home.”
“The Cross estate?”
“No.”
His voice had become distant.
“A house in Lake Geneva.”
“What happened there?”
Stellan folded the letter.
“Evan broke a window when we were children.”
“That’s it?”
“No.”
His eyes moved toward the silver necklace.
“It was the last place the three of us were happy.”
We examined the flash drive.
Encrypted.
Darius would handle it.
But before we left, the bank manager returned with security records.
He placed a tablet on the desk.
“I found the person who opened the account.”
The video was grainy.
Dated thirteen months before Fern’s birth.
A man entered the bank.
Baseball cap.
Dark jacket.
He signed documents.
Looked briefly toward the camera.
Adrian.
My chest tightened.
Then somebody entered behind him.
An older woman.
Elegant.
Silver-blonde hair.
Helena Cross.
Stellan stared at the screen.
“She lied.”
Again.
I felt anger rising on his behalf.
Not because I trusted him completely.
Because I understood what it was like to discover someone you loved had built your life on carefully arranged omissions.
Back at the estate, Helena did not deny it.
“Yes, I opened the account with Adrian.”
Stellan stood across from her in the library.
“You told me you spoke to him twice.”
“I did.”
“You met him.”
“Once.”
“So you lied.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“To protect him.”
“You keep using that word.”
Helena’s expression hardened.
“Because you do not understand what Marcus was doing.”
“Then explain it.”
She looked at me.
“Not in front of her.”
My patience disappeared.
“My daughter is involved. Stop treating me like staff.”
Helena’s eyes flicked toward Stellan.
Something about my words almost amused her.
“Very well.”
She sat.
“Marcus Vale discovered Adrian had copied the financial records. He believed Adrian intended to deliver them to federal investigators.”
“Did he?”
“Yes.”
“What stopped him?”
“Your father.”
Stellan went still.
“Our father was dead.”
“Not when this began.”
Silence.
Helena continued.
“Adrian discovered the records six years ago.”
Six.
Long before I met him.
“He told Evan.”
Stellan’s expression sharpened.
“And?”
“Evan agreed to help him.”
A cold feeling spread through me.
Stellan whispered, “Evan’s robbery.”
“It wasn’t a robbery.”
Helena’s voice cracked.
“Marcus had him killed.”
Stellan did not move.
I had never seen someone become so expressionless.
“Did you know?”
“I suspected.”
“Did Father know?”
“Yes.”
The single word landed like a gunshot.
“Father let Marcus kill Evan?”
“No. But he refused to retaliate because Marcus threatened to expose everything.”
Stellan turned away.
For years, he had apparently believed his brother died randomly.
Now the truth was uglier.
Evan had died because he tried to help Adrian.
I understood suddenly why Adrian later borrowed his brother’s name.
Not merely as disguise.
As memorial.
As guilt.
Stellan walked toward the fireplace.
“He used Evan’s name because he blamed himself.”
Helena nodded.
“Yes.”
“And you helped him.”
“Yes.”
“Then you helped fake his death.”
“Yes.”
Stellan turned back.
“Is Adrian actually dead?”
The room went still.
I looked at Helena.
For several seconds, she didn’t speak.
Then:
“I don’t know.”
My heart lurched.
“What?”
Helena’s composure finally cracked.
“I arranged the replacement dental records. Adrian was supposed to abandon the vehicle before the explosion.”
“Supposed to?”
“Yes.”
Stellan stepped forward.
“Where was he supposed to go?”
“Montreal.”
“Did he arrive?”
“No.”
“Then where did he die?”
“I never said he did.”
Every hair on my arms rose.
I stood slowly.
The man I loved might not have died in that car.
I could barely form the words.
“You’re telling me Adrian might be alive?”
Helena looked at me with something that resembled pity.
“I am telling you I have spent fourteen months wondering the same thing.”
And suddenly our search was no longer about discovering how a dead man had lived.
May you like
It was about finding out whether Fern’s father had been dead at all.
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