Chapter 3 - Beneath Pierce House
Christopher had lived in Pierce House since childhood.
He knew the wine cellar.
The service tunnels.
The storm shelter.
The old coal corridor that had been sealed before he was born.
He had never heard about anything beneath those rooms.
Estelle moved quickly through the kitchen.
Christopher followed.
Gideon and two security officers joined them.
Yvette refused medical help.
She pressed a towel against the cut above her eye and walked beside Christopher.
“Mrs. Sloan, you stay upstairs.”
“No.”
“That wasn’t a request.”
“Emma trusted me before she trusted you.”
Christopher stopped.
The words hurt because they were true.
Yvette softened.
“If someone took that little girl because of what I know, I’m going.”
Christopher nodded.
Estelle stopped beside the pantry.
She removed a framed botanical print from the wall.
Behind it was a keypad.
Gideon stared.
“I’ve never seen that.”
“You were not supposed to.”
Estelle entered eight digits.
A section of shelving unlocked.
Behind it stood an elevator.
Christopher turned on her.
“How long has this been here?”
“Since 1964.”
“What is below us?”
Estelle did not answer.
The elevator doors opened.
Christopher stepped inside.
Estelle remained outside.
“Coming?”
“No.”
Christopher held the door.
“If my daughter is down there, you’re coming.”
Estelle looked at the darkness inside the elevator.
For the first time, Christopher saw genuine terror.
Not embarrassment.
Not calculation.
Terror.
“What are you afraid of?”
She whispered.
“Arthur.”
Christopher stared.
“You said he was alive.”
“I did not say he was well.”
The elevator descended.
One floor.
Two.
Three.
The display had no numbers.
Only a small red light.
Yvette stood beside Christopher.
Gideon checked his weapon.
Estelle gripped the railing.
“What happened to Father?”
Christopher asked.
Estelle stared ahead.
“Your father became obsessed with legacy.”
“You both seem to share that problem.”
“He was worse.”
“Worse than arranging a murder?”
Estelle’s eyes flashed.
“I did not arrange Rachel’s death.”
Christopher turned.
Yvette did too.
Estelle realized what she had admitted.
Christopher’s voice went quiet.
“But you knew it wasn’t an accident.”
Estelle looked away.
The elevator stopped.
The doors opened onto a concrete corridor.
Cold white lights flickered overhead.
At the end stood a steel door.
Christopher heard a child crying.
“Emma.”
He ran.
Gideon overtook him and reached the door first.
Locked.
Gideon entered a code.
Nothing.
Christopher slammed his shoulder against it.
“Emma!”
Her crying stopped.
Then her voice came from the other side.
“Daddy?”
Christopher pressed both palms against the steel.
“I’m here.”
“Please don’t leave.”
“I’m not leaving.”
A man spoke behind the door.
“Christopher.”
Christopher froze.
He knew that voice.
Older.
Weaker.
But unmistakable.
His father.
Christopher stepped backward.
Gideon stared at him.
Estelle closed her eyes.
The lock clicked.
The door opened.
Arthur Pierce sat in a wheelchair beside a long table.
His hair was completely white.
One side of his face drooped.
A scar ran from his temple to his jaw.
But his eyes remained sharp.
Emma sat across his lap.
She was wrapped in a gray blanket.
A masked man stood behind them.
Christopher stepped forward.
“Put her down.”
Arthur smiled faintly.
“You look like me when you’re angry.”
“Put my daughter down.”
Emma reached for Christopher.
The masked man put one hand on her shoulder.
Christopher stopped.
Gideon raised his weapon.
Arthur looked at him.
“Mr. Shaw.”
Gideon stared.
“Mr. Pierce.”
“You’ve done well for my son.”
Christopher snapped.
“Enough.”
Arthur looked back at him.
“I wanted to see her.”
“You kidnapped her.”
“I invited my granddaughter downstairs.”
“She is seven years old.”
“And appears more intelligent than most of the board.”
Emma whispered.
“Daddy.”
Arthur loosened his grip.
Emma slid from his lap and ran.
Christopher caught her.
He lifted her into his arms.
Emma buried her face against his chest.
Arthur watched.
Something almost tender appeared in his expression.
Then it vanished.
Christopher turned toward the masked man.
“Take off the mask.”
The man did not move.
Gideon stepped forward.
“Now.”
Arthur raised one hand.
The man removed it.
Christopher stared.
Dr. Marcus Halden.
The Pierce family physician.
The man who had signed his father’s death certificate.
The man Rachel’s letter specifically warned him not to trust.
Christopher’s jaw tightened.
“Halden.”
The doctor looked older than Christopher remembered.
Tired.
Haunted.
“Christopher.”
“You signed his death certificate.”
“Yes.”
“You certified cremation.”
“Yes.”
“You lied.”
“Yes.”
Christopher stepped toward him.
Emma was still in his arms.
“You lied to me for eleven years.”
“Yes.”
Christopher’s fist clenched.
Arthur spoke.
“Put Emma down before you hit him.”
Christopher looked at his father.
“I’m not hitting anyone.”
Arthur smiled.
“You always clenched your right fist before fighting.”
Christopher hated that his father remembered.
He handed Emma to Yvette.
“Take her upstairs.”
Arthur spoke immediately.
“No.”
Christopher rounded on him.
“You don’t make decisions about my daughter.”
“If she leaves, she becomes vulnerable.”
“She was almost killed beside my pool.”
“Exactly.”
Christopher stared.
Arthur leaned forward slightly.
“Juliette is not the threat.”
“She tried to drown Emma.”
“She is a desperate idiot.”
“And Mother?”
Arthur’s eyes shifted toward Estelle.
Estelle’s face became stone.
Arthur smiled without warmth.
“Your mother is many things.”
“Did she tell Juliette to remove Emma?”
“I have not heard the recording.”
Yvette raised it.
“We can fix that.”
Arthur looked at her.
“Still loyal to Rachel?”
Yvette’s face hardened.
“More than I was loyal to you.”
Arthur’s smile disappeared.
Christopher stepped between them.
“What happened to Rachel?”
Arthur looked at Emma.
Christopher moved so his daughter was no longer in Arthur’s sight.
“What happened to Rachel?”
Halden whispered.
“Christopher.”
Christopher turned.
The doctor’s hands were shaking.
“There were two cars.”
“I know.”
“No.”
Halden swallowed.
“There were three.”
Estelle snapped.
“Marcus.”
Arthur did not look at her.
“Let him speak.”
Halden continued.
“Rachel left the clinic that night with documents.”
“What documents?”
“Paternity results.”
Christopher’s chest tightened.
“And something else.”
“What?”
Halden looked at Arthur.
Arthur nodded.
“Bank records.”
Christopher frowned.
“Whose?”
“Pierce Holdings.”
Christopher stared.
Halden continued.
“Rachel had been working for a legal research firm.”
Christopher remembered.
Rachel had told him she was a paralegal.
“She discovered shell companies connected to Pierce Foundation funds.”
Arthur’s expression darkened.
Christopher looked at his father.
“You were stealing from the company?”
Arthur laughed once.
“No.”
“Then who?”
No one spoke.
Christopher looked at Estelle.
She met his eyes.
“Mother?”
Estelle remained silent.
Halden continued.
“Rachel believed someone was transferring money out through charitable trusts.”
“How much?”
“Hundreds of millions.”
Christopher stared.
“She threatened to expose it?”
“Yes.”
“And then she died.”
“Yes.”
Christopher’s breathing slowed.
“You knew.”
Halden nodded.
“I knew someone was following her.”
“And you did nothing?”
“I tried.”
“By faking my father’s death?”
Halden closed his eyes.
Arthur answered.
“My stroke occurred two weeks after Rachel’s accident.”
Christopher looked at him.
“Accident?”
Arthur’s mouth tightened.
“Murder.”
Emma whimpered.
Christopher immediately looked at her.
Arthur realized.
“Take the child into the next room.”
Christopher nodded to Yvette.
Emma refused.
“Daddy.”
Christopher crouched.
“There’s a sofa right through that door.”
“You’re coming?”
“In one minute.”
She studied his face.
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
Yvette took her.
The connecting door closed.
Christopher turned back.
“Who killed Rachel?”
Arthur looked at Estelle.
Estelle looked at Halden.
Halden looked at the floor.
Christopher understood before anyone spoke.
“No.”
Estelle’s eyes snapped to him.
“No what?”
“No.”
He stepped back.
“You’re making me think it was her.”
Arthur’s expression did not change.
Christopher’s voice rose.
“Was it my mother?”
Arthur answered.
“No.”
Christopher released a breath.
Then Arthur continued.
“She ordered Rachel frightened.”
Estelle snapped.
“That is not what happened.”
Arthur ignored her.
“The men she hired decided a dead witness was safer than a frightened one.”
Christopher turned slowly toward his mother.
Estelle’s face had lost all color.
“You hired men to follow Rachel?”
“To retrieve stolen documents.”
“She was carrying proof of a crime.”
“She was carrying documents belonging to this family.”
Christopher crossed the room.
Gideon caught his arm before he reached her.
Christopher shook him off.
“Did you know they would run her off the road?”
“No.”
“Did you know they were violent?”
“I knew they were professionals.”
Christopher laughed in disbelief.
“Professionals?”
“I told them no one was to be harmed.”
“And afterward?”
Estelle said nothing.
“After Rachel died, what did you do?”
“I made sure Emma was protected.”
Christopher stared at her.
“Protected?”
“I brought her here.”
“You brought her into the same house as the people covering up her mother’s death.”
“I kept her close.”
“You kept her controlled.”
Estelle slapped him.
The sound echoed through the underground room.
Gideon moved.
Christopher raised one hand.
“Don’t.”
Estelle’s eyes shone.
“I gave up everything for this family.”
Christopher touched his cheek.
“And Rachel gave up her life.”
Arthur spoke quietly.
“Christopher, the problem is larger than Estelle.”
Christopher looked at him.
“Who transferred the money?”
Arthur’s expression became grim.
“I did not know until after my stroke.”
“And?”
Arthur reached into the side pocket of his wheelchair.
He removed a sealed envelope.
“Rachel knew.”
Christopher took it.
Inside was a printed financial ledger.
Names.
Dates.
Offshore accounts.
Trusts.
One name appeared repeatedly.
Christopher recognized it immediately.
Jonathan Pierce.
His uncle.
His father’s younger brother.
Christopher looked up.
“Uncle Jonathan?”
Arthur nodded.
“He has been stealing from this family for twenty-seven years.”
Christopher shook his head.
“Jonathan has no control over the trust.”
“He didn’t need control.”
Arthur looked at Estelle.
“He had her.”
Christopher turned.
Estelle closed her eyes.
Arthur continued.
“Your mother and your uncle have been partners longer than you have been alive.”
Christopher looked from one to the other.
“What kind of partners?”
No one answered.
Christopher suddenly remembered childhood photographs.
Jonathan always standing close to Estelle.
Jonathan attending every family holiday even after Arthur supposedly died.
Jonathan advising Christopher about corporate decisions.
Jonathan encouraging Christopher to marry Juliette.
Christopher’s stomach turned.
Arthur’s voice became colder.
“Ask your mother who chose Juliette for you.”
Christopher stared at Estelle.
She did not answer.
“Mother?”
Arthur smiled bitterly.
“Ask her who Juliette’s father is.”
Christopher frowned.
“Her father died when she was a baby.”
Arthur looked at him.
“No.”
The door behind Christopher opened.
Emma stood there.
Yvette was beside her.
Emma held something.
A photograph.
She must have found it in the adjoining room.
She walked toward Christopher.
“Daddy.”
Christopher crouched.
“What is that?”
Emma handed him the photograph.
It showed a much younger Estelle.
Jonathan Pierce stood beside her.
And between them was a baby wrapped in pink.
On the back someone had written three words.
Our little Juliette.
Christopher slowly lifted his eyes toward his mother.
Estelle looked as though she had been waiting thirty-seven years for this moment.
Christopher whispered.
“Juliette is Jonathan’s daughter?”
Arthur shook his head.
Christopher looked at him.
Arthur’s face was filled with hatred.
“No, son.”
He stared directly at Estelle.
May you like
“Juliette is your mother’s daughter too.”
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