Chapter 13 - The Enemy Inside the Family
Alexander’s funeral began beneath a sky the color of steel.
I watched it on a small television Sebastian had placed in my room.
Hundreds of people arrived.
Business leaders.
Politicians.
Employees.
Men whose names appeared in newspapers and men whose names never appeared anywhere.
The coffin was black.
Julian walked behind it.
Eleanor followed.
Vincent stood near the church doors.
Gabriel wasn’t visible.
Neither was Elena.
Sebastian entered my room wearing a dark suit.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?”
“You enjoy funerals?”
“I enjoy transitions.”
He placed papers on the table.
Alexander would sign them after the funeral at a private meeting.
“Where is he?”
“Closer than you think.”
My pulse quickened.
The funeral broadcast cut to a commentator discussing Alexander’s business empire.
Then something unexpected happened.
Julian approached the podium.
He unfolded a piece of paper.
“My brother spent his life being misunderstood.”
Sebastian stopped.
Julian continued.
“Some misunderstandings were convenient. Some were profitable. Some were created by the people closest to our family.”
Sebastian’s expression tightened.
This wasn’t the prepared speech.
“Alexander believed loyalty was proven quietly.”
Julian looked directly toward the cameras.
“So today I’m going to honor him quietly.”
He tore up the paper.
And walked away.
The coffin was carried outside.
Sebastian grabbed his phone.
No signal.
His eyes narrowed.
He tried another.
Nothing.
Jamming.
I smiled.
“Something wrong?”
He looked at me.
The house lights went out.
Sebastian moved toward the door.
Locked.
From outside.
For the first time, fear entered his face.
The television changed.
Funeral footage disappeared.
Alexander appeared on-screen.
Alive.
Sitting in his library.
“Hello, Sebastian.”
Sebastian stared.
Alexander continued.
“You taught my father one useful lesson. Never allow your opponent to choose the battlefield.”
Sebastian hit the door.
“Claire!”
I stepped backward.
Alexander spoke through the television.
“The documents you prepared were intercepted last night. The trust administrator has been notified of fraud. Federal financial investigators received copies of Nathan Cole’s files this morning.”
Sebastian’s face changed.
Years of control slipping away in seconds.
“You think this ends anything?”
Alexander almost smiled.
“No.”
The camera widened.
Nathan Cole sat beside him.
Alive.
Sebastian whispered, “You.”
Nathan looked into the camera.
“I’m done running.”
He had faked his disappearance under Alexander’s direction after recording the hotel message.
For weeks Nathan had been secretly gathering evidence.
Sebastian had believed him frightened.
Instead Nathan had copied everything.
Bank transfers.
Encrypted communications.
Medical orders.
Threats.
Alexander continued.
“Your accounts are frozen.”
Sebastian kicked the chair aside.
“You need me alive if you want Claire.”
Alexander looked almost bored.
“Look out the window.”
Sebastian did.
So did I.
Vincent stood in the cemetery below.
Beside him were Gabriel and Elena.
And behind them, law enforcement vehicles.
Not corrupt officers.
Federal agents working through Nathan’s attorneys and an independent task force.
Sebastian turned toward me.
His calm disappeared.
“You.”
He stepped closer.
I backed away.
“Claire, open the door.”
“You locked it.”
“Where is the key?”
“I don’t know.”
He grabbed my arm.
Before he could do anything else, the door opened.
Gabriel entered.
“Let her go.”
Sebastian froze.
Father and son stared at each other.
For the first time I saw resemblance.
Not physical.
Something colder.
Calculation.
“Gabriel.”
“Move away from her.”
“I built everything for you.”
“No.”
Gabriel shook his head.
“You built everything for yourself and used my name to justify it.”
“I protected you.”
“You erased me.”
“I saved your life.”
“You stole it.”
Sebastian released my arm.
“Your mother filled your head with—”
“Elena is guilty of plenty.”
Gabriel’s voice remained calm.
“But this isn’t about her.”
He stepped closer.
“You threatened children.”
Sebastian’s expression hardened.
“You don’t understand what survival requires.”
“I understand exactly.”
Gabriel looked toward Vincent.
“That’s why I’m choosing something else.”
Vincent entered with two agents.
Sebastian looked at me one last time.
Then at Gabriel.
Then laughed.
“You all think Alexander won.”
Nobody answered.
Sebastian’s smile returned.
“You haven’t asked the most important question.”
Gabriel frowned.
“What?”
“How did Claire get hired?”
My stomach dropped.
“We know,” I said. “You influenced it.”
Sebastian shook his head.
“No.”
Alexander’s image remained on the television.
His expression changed.
Sebastian continued.
“I noticed Claire after she arrived.”
“Who hired her?”
He smiled.
“Ask Eleanor.”
Every eye turned toward the screen as Alexander looked off-camera.
Eleanor was standing in the library.
Her face went white.
Sebastian laughed.
“Your enemy was never only inside your family.”
I stared at the television.
“Eleanor?”
She whispered something we couldn’t hear.
Then the broadcast cut out.
Sebastian was taken away.
But his final words remained.
Eleanor had hired me.
That wasn’t suspicious by itself.
She managed the household.
Except Sebastian had implied something more.
When I returned to the estate, Eleanor was gone.
On her desk lay her resignation letter.
And a photograph of my mother.
Written on the back were four words.
I promised to protect her.
Alexander looked at me.
“Eleanor knew your mother.”
“Yes.”
“How well?”
I picked up the photograph.
My mother stood beside Eleanor thirty years earlier.
They were smiling like sisters.
Then I noticed another person reflected in a mirror behind them.
Vittorio Romano.
His hand rested on my mother’s shoulder.
And for the first time, a question entered my mind that I had never considered.
Why had Vittorio Romano cared enough about a young administrative assistant to secretly pay for her cancer treatment decades later?
Alexander must have wondered the same thing.
Because he turned the photograph over again.
And beneath Eleanor’s sentence, barely visible, my mother had written a date.
May you like
The date of my birth.
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