Chương 15 - The Last Game of the SyndicateI refused to believe it.
Not because I trusted Adrian blindly.
Because the evidence contradicted itself.
My father’s letter said listen before judging Adrian.
Adrian claimed Gregory paid Trent.
Robert’s video claimed Adrian ordered the death.
One of them was lying.
Possibly several.
“Can we authenticate the video?” I asked.
Thomas nodded.
“I already did.”
“That means the footage is real.”
“Yes.”
“Not that the statement is true.”
Larkin looked at me.
“Exactly.”
Thomas frowned.
“You’re defending Adrian?”
“I’m defending logic.”
I replayed the video.
Robert’s face.
Voice.
Background.
Then something caught my eye.
The clock behind him.
8:17.
He said, “If my sons ever see this…”
Plural.
When was this recorded?
Metadata showed six years ago.
After Ethan died.
Larkin was the only surviving son Robert publicly acknowledged.
Unless he already knew Thomas was his child.
“Robert knew about you,” I said.
Thomas laughed bitterly.
“Obviously.”
“No.”
I pointed.
“He calls you his son in the recording.”
Thomas went still.
That mattered.
It meant the video was intended for both brothers.
A confession.
Or manipulation.
We brought Adrian in.
He watched the clip without reacting.
When it ended, he looked at me.
“Robert always was a coward.”
“Did you order my father killed?”
“No.”
“Did you know Trent?”
“Yes.”
“Did you pay him?”
“No.”
“Prove it.”
Adrian nodded.
“I can.”
He gave me an account number.
We traced the two-million-dollar payment Trent mentioned.
It did not originate from Gregory personally.
It came from a Crown account.
Authorization code attributed to Gregory.
But the digital credential was issued after Gregory had suffered a stroke that limited his ability to sign documents.
Someone used his authorization.
“Evelyn?” Thomas asked.
“No,” I said.
The login came from an external terminal.
Location.
A private club in Manhattan.
Membership records.
Robert Steves.
Larkin stared at the screen.
“So Dad paid Trent.”
It fit.
Robert blamed Adrian in the video.
Robert framed Gregory.
Robert removed anyone who threatened his control.
The truth was uglier than any single villain.
He had manipulated everyone.
Adrian.
Gregory.
Evelyn.
His own sons.
My father.
Thomas sat down.
“He knew.”
Larkin said nothing.
“He knew I was his son,” Thomas continued.
“Yes.”
“And left me with Gregory.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Adrian answered.
“Because Gregory was easier to control if he had something to lose.”
Thomas looked at him.
“My entire childhood was leverage.”
Adrian didn’t soften it.
“Yes.”
For the first time, I felt sorry for Thomas.
Not enough to excuse him.
But enough to understand the shape of what made him cruel.
Pain doesn’t justify becoming dangerous.
But it often explains the road.
Federal investigators received the Robert records that afternoon.
Larkin turned over internal files voluntarily.
So did Thomas.
For once, the brothers stood on the same side.
Not because they trusted each other.
Because both were finally tired of being controlled by a dead man.
But one problem remained.
The ledger.
We had Thomas’s copy.
Adrian had old copies.
Evelyn knew where others might exist.
If those names leaked without context, lives could still be destroyed.
So I proposed the only solution that made sense.
Controlled disclosure.
Investigators.
Independent counsel.
Protect informants.
Protect victims.
Expose crimes.
No blackmail.
No private leverage.
Larkin agreed.
Thomas resisted.
“Once we give it away, we lose power.”
I looked at him.
“That’s the point.”
He stared.
“You really don’t want any of it.”
“No.”
“Three hundred million dollars. Information on powerful people. Access to an empire.”
“No.”
“What do you want?”
The question surprised me.
I thought about my apartment.
My father.
My mother.
The gala.
The black dress.
Larkin.
“I want to stop being afraid of what happens if someone learns who I am.”
Thomas looked away.
Maybe he understood.
Maybe he didn’t.
That night, we delivered the final files.
The Steves syndicate, as it had existed for decades, effectively ended.
But old systems rarely disappear quietly.
At 2:13 a.m., Steves Holdings lost power.
Backup generators failed.
Security cameras went dark.
Phones stopped working.
Then fire alarms began screaming.
Someone had entered the building.
Not to steal money.
Not to recover files.
To destroy evidence.
May you like
And there were still six employees upstairs.
Including me.
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