Chapter 2 - Grandpa’s Smile
I moved before I consciously decided to.
One moment Richard Beaumont was standing beside the elevator.
The next, I was directly in front of him.
Isabelle stepped between us.
“Daniel, please.”
I looked at her.
For nine years, I had loved that woman.
At that moment, I couldn’t recognize her.
“You stayed there.”
Her face went pale.
“What?”
“Mrs. Johns found Toby.”
“Daniel—”
“You stayed at your father’s house.”
Tears appeared in her eyes.
“It wasn’t like that.”
I almost laughed.
Our son was lying behind glass with his head wrapped in bandages.
There were very few explanations that could improve the situation.
Richard adjusted the cuff of his expensive coat.
“This is an unfortunate family misunderstanding.”
I looked at him.
“Misunderstanding?”
“Toby became hysterical.”
Isabelle whispered, “Dad, stop.”
Richard ignored her.
“He’s always been overly sensitive.”
I stared at him.
“You’re describing an eight-year-old boy lying in a hospital bed.”
“He fell.”
Isabelle closed her eyes.
That was when I knew.
Not suspected.
Knew.
“You saw it,” I said.
Her eyes opened.
“Daniel…”
“You saw what they did.”
She began crying.
Richard grabbed her elbow.
“Don’t answer him.”
I looked down at his hand.
“Take your hand off my wife.”
Richard smiled.
“You’re in no position to give orders.”
A voice came from behind us.
“Actually, everyone should probably stop talking.”
A woman in a navy suit approached.
She displayed her badge.
“Detective Lena Ortiz. Birchwood Police.”
Richard’s confidence flickered.
Only briefly.
Then his attorney’s instincts—or perhaps simply decades of entitlement—returned.
“I’m Richard Beaumont.”
“I know who you are.”
“My attorney will contact your department.”
“I’m sure he will.”
She looked at Isabelle.
“Mrs. Sinclair, I need to speak with you separately.”
Richard immediately said, “She isn’t speaking without counsel.”
Detective Ortiz raised an eyebrow.
“I asked Mrs. Sinclair.”
For the first time, Isabelle pulled her arm from her father’s grip.
“I’ll talk.”
Richard stared at her.
The look he gave his daughter told me more than any confession could have.
Fear.
Not concern.
Fear.
Detective Ortiz led Isabelle away.
Richard remained.
“You think this changes anything?” he murmured.
I said nothing.
“You were never good enough for her.”
Still nothing.
He stepped closer.
“I warned Isabelle what would happen if she chose you.”
There it was.
A crack.
Small.
But useful.
I had spent years interviewing men who believed intimidation was the same thing as intelligence.
The easiest way to make them talk was to let them believe they were winning.
So I lowered my eyes.
Richard smiled.
“You don’t know this family.”
“You’re right.”
“I built everything Isabelle has.”
I looked up.
“And therefore you own her?”
His smile disappeared.
“You should take your boy and leave Birchwood.”
“My boy?”
“Toby.”
I waited.
Richard leaned closer.
“He’ll recover.”
The casual certainty in his voice made my skin crawl.
“You sound confident.”
“Children are resilient.”
“What happened in the driveway?”
His expression hardened.
“I told you. He fell.”
“And Jasper happened to be holding his arms?”
Silence.
“Kyle happened to be holding his legs?”
Something flashed in Richard’s eyes.
He had not expected Toby to remember.
That was useful too.
Before he could answer, my phone vibrated.
One message.
MARCUS: TEAM ACTIVE. FOUND SOMETHING ALREADY. CALL ASAP.
I slipped the phone back into my pocket.
Richard saw the movement.
“Calling your little office?”
“Something like that.”
He chuckled.
“You’re a consultant, Daniel. Stop pretending you frighten me.”
I smiled.
That unsettled him.
Good.
An hour later, Detective Ortiz found me near the cafeteria.
“Your wife gave a statement.”
I stood.
“And?”
“She confirms there was an altercation.”
“Altercation?”
“I’m telling you what she said.”
I waited.
“She says her father became angry after Toby defended you. She says Jasper restrained Toby.”
“And Kyle?”
“She’s less clear.”
“Less clear?”
“She says she panicked.”
I looked away.
Ortiz studied me.
“There’s something else.”
“What?”
“Your wife says her father has threatened you before.”
I turned back.
“What kind of threats?”
“She wouldn’t elaborate.”
That was new.
“Can I talk to her?”
“She asked for time.”
Of course she had.
My phone vibrated again.
Marcus.
I excused myself and entered an empty stairwell.
“What did you find?”
“You remember why Beaumont hated you when you married Isabelle?”
“He thought I was nobody.”
Marcus laughed once.
“No. That’s what he wanted you to think.”
I stopped.
“Explain.”
“We pulled public corporate filings, archived court documents, property transfers. Richard has been moving money through shell companies for years.”
“That doesn’t explain me.”
“I’m getting there.”
Footsteps echoed somewhere below.
Marcus continued.
“One company stood out. Harrow Security Holdings.”
My stomach tightened.
I knew that name.
Fifteen years earlier, Harrow had appeared in an investigation involving private contractors selling restricted intelligence.
My unit had dismantled part of the network.
Several people went to prison.
One disappeared.
“Richard was connected to Harrow?”
“Not connected.”
Marcus paused.
“He owned it.”
I leaned against the wall.
That changed everything.
My history with Richard had begun years before I ever met his daughter.
And neither of us had known.
Or perhaps only I hadn’t known.
“Marcus.”
“Yeah?”
“Why would he let Isabelle marry me?”
“That’s what we’re trying to figure out.”
The stairwell door opened above me.
I looked up.
Isabelle stood there.
Her face was wet with tears.
“How much did you hear?” I asked.
“Enough.”
I ended the call.
She slowly descended the stairs.
“You lied to me,” she whispered.
“So did you.”
“My father told me you were dangerous.”
I stared at her.
“When?”
“Before our wedding.”
My pulse changed.
“What exactly did he tell you?”
“That you weren’t a consultant.”
Silence.
“He knew?”
She nodded.
“For years.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because he threatened Toby.”
The air left my lungs.
“When?”
Her next words turned my anger into something far worse.
“Before Toby was born.”
I stared at her.
Isabelle wiped her face.
“My father didn’t hurt Toby yesterday because he lost his temper, Daniel.”
She swallowed.
“He hurt Toby because you finally did something he’d been waiting eight years for.”
“What?”
She looked toward the hospital corridor.
“You opened that encrypted phone.”
And suddenly I understood.
The attack on Toby hadn’t been punishment.
It had been bait.
Someone wanted Daniel Sinclair to become the man he used to be.
May you like
And somewhere nearby, someone was waiting for me to make exactly that mistake.
---
