Chapter 11 - THE LEDGER IN MY FATHER’S WALL
We drove to my father’s house before dawn.
Gabriel wanted six vehicles.
I allowed two.
He wanted armed men inside.
I allowed them on the property.
He wanted the boys left behind.
For once, we agreed.
My father had died three years earlier.
The small Connecticut house had remained in my name.
I rarely visited.
Too many memories.
Too much quiet.
We entered through the kitchen.
Gabriel looked around.
“You lived here?”
“Until college.”
He touched an old photograph.
Me at twelve.
Missing front tooth.
Wild hair.
“You were cute.”
I glared at him.
“Focus.”
“I am.”
“On the wall?”
“Mostly.”
I led him upstairs.
My childhood bedroom still contained the same built-in bookshelf.
I removed four old novels.
Behind them was a wooden panel.
Gabriel stared.
“You had a hidden compartment?”
“My father built it when I was fourteen.”
“For what?”
“Diaries.”
Gabriel almost smiled.
“You wrote diaries?”
“Do you want the ledger or not?”
He stopped smiling.
The ledger was still there.
Wrapped in plastic.
Untouched for five years.
I carried it downstairs.
Gabriel did not open it immediately.
“Why did you take this?”
“I thought it proved something about your father.”
“What?”
“That he distrusted Vincent.”
“Why didn’t you show me?”
“I planned to.”
“What stopped you?”
“I saw you with Serena.”
His face changed.
I continued.
“After that, I didn’t care about Cross family secrets.”
“You should have.”
“I was busy surviving my marriage ending.”
“I know.”
We opened the ledger.
Nathan’s handwriting filled every page.
Payments.
Names.
Properties.
Codes.
It looked like a criminal accounting book.
Gabriel frowned.
“This isn’t financial.”
“What is it?”
“A loyalty registry.”
I stared.
“That sounds insane.”
“My father was insane.”
Fair.
Each name had symbols beside it.
Some had red circles.
Some black crosses.
Some dates.
Gabriel found Anthony Bell.
Bell’s name had three red circles.
Next to it:
E.M. TRUSTS HIM.
Elena Marlowe.
Gabriel’s mother.
We found Vincent.
His entry was longer.
VINCENT BELIEVES SUCCESSION SHOULD PASS THROUGH HIM.
WATCH MICHAEL.
WATCH ADRIAN.
KEEP GABRIEL OUT OF HIS REACH.
Gabriel went still.
“Your father knew.”
“Yes.”
“Then why didn’t he stop him?”
We turned the page.
Nathan had written another note.
I HAVE CREATED INSURANCE.
THREE HEIRS WILL END HIM.
I felt cold.
“The triplet clause.”
Gabriel nodded.
“Maybe not triplets specifically.”
“Three male descendants.”
“Yes.”
We kept reading.
Then I found my own name.
Claire Bennett Cross.
My breath caught.
Gabriel stared.
Nathan had written:
SHE WILL LEAVE IF GABRIEL BECOMES ME.
GOOD.
IF SHE HAS HIS CHILDREN, THEY MUST FOLLOW HER.
Gabriel closed his eyes.
I read the next line.
DO NOT LET VINCENT RAISE ANOTHER CROSS BOY.
Gabriel stood abruptly.
He walked away.
I watched him.
“What?”
He laughed once.
“My father understood you better than I did.”
“That isn’t funny.”
“No.”
He turned.
“It isn’t.”
He looked broken.
“Nathan wanted you to leave me if I became like him.”
“Maybe.”
“I became like him.”
“Not completely.”
Gabriel looked surprised.
I hated that I had given him comfort.
“Don’t misunderstand.”
“I’m not absolving you.”
“I know.”
“You cheated.”
“Yes.”
“You controlled everything.”
“Yes.”
“You kept secrets.”
“Yes.”
“You frightened me sometimes.”
His face changed.
“I know.”
I shook my head.
“No.”
“You didn’t.”
He accepted that.
“No.”
We returned to the ledger.
A final section had been cut out.
Several pages missing.
Gabriel examined the binding.
“Removed recently?”
“No.”
The edges were old.
I remembered something.
“When I found it, pages were already missing.”
Gabriel frowned.
“Who had access before you?”
“Vincent.”
“Bell.”
“Your father.”
“And Serena?”
“No.”
“She didn’t enter the estate until after the divorce.”
Gabriel looked relieved.
Then a floorboard creaked upstairs.
We both froze.
Security should have cleared the house.
Gabriel reached inside his coat.
I hated the gesture.
But for once, I was grateful.
He signaled me to stay.
I ignored him.
We moved upstairs.
My bedroom door stood open.
It had been closed before.
Gabriel entered first.
Nothing.
Then I noticed the bookshelf.
The hidden compartment stood open.
Someone had known exactly where the ledger was.
Except we had already taken it downstairs.
Gabriel looked at the window.
Unlocked.
A shadow moved outside.
He ran.
I followed to the backyard.
Security shouted.
A man jumped the fence.
Marco chased him.
Thirty seconds later, they caught him in the neighboring yard.
Gabriel approached.
The man was young.
Maybe thirty.
He wore no mask.
He looked terrified.
“Who sent you?”
Gabriel asked.
The man shook his head.
“No one.”
Gabriel crouched.
“You entered Claire’s father’s house through a second-floor window.”
“I was paid.”
“By whom?”
“I don’t know.”
“How much?”
“Ten thousand.”
“For what?”
“To get a book.”
I held up the ledger.
“This?”
His eyes widened.
“Yes.”
Gabriel continued.
“Who gave you the instructions?”
“An email.”
“Show me.”
The man surrendered his phone.
The instructions included a photograph of my hidden compartment.
Taken years earlier.
Someone inside my childhood bedroom.
My stomach turned.
Then we saw the sender name.
Not Vincent.
Not Serena.
Not Bell.
A.MARLOWE.
Gabriel stared.
“Marlowe was my mother’s name.”
“Could be fake.”
I said.
He nodded.
Marco searched the account history.
One linked number appeared.
Adam Reed.
We all went silent.
Gabriel called his brother.
No answer.
Again.
Nothing.
I felt sick.
“Maybe his phone was cloned.”
Gabriel did not respond.
Marco checked Adam’s federal vehicle tracker.
His government car had left Manhattan two hours earlier.
Destination?
Connecticut.
We looked at one another.
Then Gabriel’s phone rang.
Adam.
Gabriel answered immediately.
“Where are you?”
Adam sounded confused.
“At home.”
Gabriel looked at Marco.
“Your car?”
“Garage.”
“No.”
Gabriel’s face hardened.
“Someone took it.”
Silence.
Adam swore.
Marco refreshed the location.
The federal car was three streets away.
Coming toward us.
Gabriel ordered everyone behind cover.
The vehicle stopped outside my father’s house.
The driver’s door opened.
A woman stepped out.
Gray hair.
Thin coat.
Late sixties.
Gabriel stared through the window.
His face turned white.
“No.”
I looked at him.
“What?”
His hands started shaking.
I had seen them shake only once before.
At the gala.
When I told him the boys were his.
The woman walked toward the house.
Gabriel whispered,
“That’s my mother.”
My blood ran cold.
“Gabriel.”
“Your mother died fifteen years ago.”
“I know.”
The woman reached the porch.
She looked directly at Gabriel through the glass.
Then she raised one trembling hand.
“My son.”
Gabriel stopped breathing.
May you like
And every dead person in the Cross family suddenly seemed determined to come back.
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