Chapter 9 - The Founder
Christopher no longer reacted when someone told him a dead relative was alive.
That frightened him.
He simply stared at Margaret Monroe.
“My grandfather would be ninety-six.”
“Ninety-seven.”
Christopher shook his head.
“I attended his funeral.”
“So did I.”
“You expect me to believe Theodore Pierce is alive?”
Margaret pointed toward the blinking camera.
“You don’t need to believe.”
A speaker crackled.
Then a man’s voice filled the boathouse.
Old.
Raspy.
But commanding.
“Christopher.”
Every hair on his arms rose.
He remembered that voice.
Barely.
He had been nine years old when Theodore Pierce supposedly died.
He remembered sitting beside his grandfather in the library.
Chess pieces between them.
“Never sacrifice the king to save a pawn.”
Christopher had hated chess after the funeral.
Now that same voice came through a hidden speaker.
“You look like Arthur.”
Christopher stared at the camera.
“Where is Emma?”
The voice chuckled.
“Pierce men.”
“Always beginning with demands.”
Christopher walked beneath the camera.
“Show yourself.”
“No.”
“Then show me Emma.”
Silence.
Christopher’s fists clenched.
Theodore finally spoke.
“She is safe.”
“I’ve heard that phrase from every liar in this family.”
A pause.
Then quiet laughter.
“Good.”
“What?”
“You are finally learning.”
Christopher looked at Margaret.
She seemed almost afraid.
Juliette stood against the wall.
Tears still covered her face.
Christopher looked at her.
“You said they have your son.”
She nodded.
“Who?”
Juliette glanced toward the camera.
Christopher understood.
“Theodore?”
She nodded again.
Christopher stared upward.
“You kidnapped a six-year-old?”
Theodore’s voice returned.
“I sheltered him.”
“Against his mother’s will.”
“Juliette has never known what she wants.”
Juliette’s face hardened.
Christopher suddenly saw something.
The bruises.
The panic.
The obedience.
Juliette had tried to kill Emma.
There was no excuse.
But she was also trapped.
“How long has her son been with you?”
“Four years.”
Juliette began crying harder.
Christopher stared.
“You took him when he was two?”
“He required a stable environment.”
Christopher felt disgust.
“Your entire family speaks like legal documents.”
Theodore chuckled.
“You are still a Pierce.”
“I’m beginning to wish I wasn’t.”
“That can be arranged.”
Christopher looked at the camera.
Theodore continued.
“You brought Rachel’s files?”
Christopher touched his jacket.
“Yes.”
“Place them on the table.”
“No.”
Margaret looked at him sharply.
Theodore’s voice became colder.
“Christopher.”
“Emma first.”
Silence.
Then a monitor turned on along the wall.
Emma appeared.
She was sitting on a couch.
Dry clothes.
Blanket.
No visible injuries.
A little boy sat beside her.
Brown hair.
Pale face.
Six years old.
Juliette gasped.
“Leo.”
The boy looked toward the camera in his room.
Juliette rushed toward the monitor.
“Leo!”
He could not hear.
Juliette touched the screen.
Christopher stared at the children.
Emma appeared frightened but calm.
She was holding Leo’s hand.
Christopher felt something inside him ache.
Even kidnapped, his daughter was comforting someone else.
“Where are they?”
Theodore answered.
“Safe.”
“Location.”
“No.”
Christopher removed Rachel’s USB device.
“Then you don’t get this.”
Theodore laughed.
“You inherited Arthur’s stubbornness.”
“And Estelle’s temper.”
Christopher held the USB between two fingers.
“If I break it, what happens?”
Margaret stepped forward.
“Don’t.”
Christopher looked at her.
“Why?”
She stared at the device.
“It contains the access key.”
“To what?”
Margaret looked toward the camera.
Theodore spoke.
“Tell him.”
Margaret’s jaw tightened.
“No.”
Theodore’s voice became threatening.
“Margaret.”
She laughed bitterly.
“What will you do?”
“Kill another daughter?”
Juliette turned sharply.
Christopher stared.
Another daughter?
Margaret looked at Juliette.
Then at Christopher.
“Rachel had a sister.”
Christopher felt another secret approaching.
“Who?”
Margaret smiled sadly.
“Estelle.”
Christopher stopped.
“No.”
“Not biological.”
Margaret shook her head.
“I raised Estelle.”
Christopher stared.
“My mother?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Her parents died.”
“When?”
“Estelle was four.”
Christopher had always been told Estelle came from old Boston money.
That her parents had died in a sailing accident when she was sixteen.
More lies.
Margaret continued.
“Your grandfather brought her to me.”
“Theodore?”
“Yes.”
“Why would he—”
Christopher stopped.
He looked toward the camera.
Then at Margaret.
“Who were Estelle’s parents?”
Margaret closed her eyes.
Theodore spoke through the speaker.
“Enough history.”
Christopher raised the USB.
“No.”
“You want this?”
“Then I get history.”
Silence.
Christopher repeated.
“Who were Estelle’s parents?”
Margaret opened her eyes.
“Her mother worked for Theodore.”
“As what?”
“A secretary.”
“And her father?”
Margaret looked toward the camera.
Christopher understood.
“No.”
Theodore did not respond.
Christopher laughed bitterly.
“My mother is your daughter.”
Silence.
Juliette whispered.
“Oh my God.”
Christopher stared at the camera.
“So Arthur married his half sister?”
Margaret immediately shook her head.
“No.”
Christopher turned.
“Theodore was not Estelle’s biological father.”
Christopher felt dizzy.
“Then who?”
Margaret hesitated.
“Theodore’s brother.”
Christopher closed his eyes.
Another branch.
Another affair.
Another hidden child.
This family had turned secrecy into a genetic trait.
“Why hide it?”
Margaret answered.
“Because Theodore’s brother was married.”
Christopher laughed without humor.
“Of course.”
Theodore’s voice sharpened.
“The past is irrelevant.”
Christopher looked upward.
“The past tried to drown my daughter today.”
Silence.
Christopher continued.
“You built this.”
No answer.
“You taught them inheritance mattered more than people.”
Theodore’s voice became cold.
“I built an empire during years when weakness meant extinction.”
“You built frightened children who became dangerous adults.”
Margaret looked at Christopher.
Something shifted in her expression.
Theodore heard it too.
“You sound like Rachel.”
Christopher swallowed.
“Good.”
Juliette turned toward him.
Christopher looked at her.
“You said Leo is Gideon’s.”
“Yes.”
“Does Gideon know?”
“No.”
Christopher stared.
“Why?”
“My father—Jonathan—threatened me.”
“With what?”
“He said if Gideon knew, he would take Leo and disappear.”
Gideon was Rachel’s brother.
Leo was his son.
That made Leo Emma’s cousin.
Christopher looked at the children on the monitor.
They had no idea.
Juliette continued.
“I was twenty-eight.”
“Gideon and I were together for six months.”
“Secretly.”
“My father found out.”
“He said a Pierce woman could not have a child with Rachel Monroe’s brother.”
Christopher almost laughed at the hypocrisy.
“But Estelle had you with Jonathan.”
Juliette nodded.
“That was different because no one knew.”
Christopher looked at the monitor.
“And Theodore took Leo?”
“Jonathan arranged it.”
“I was told Leo died.”
Christopher stared.
“What?”
Juliette’s face crumpled.
“They told me he had a seizure.”
“They showed me ashes.”
Christopher thought of Arthur’s cedar ashes.
“Jesus.”
Juliette wiped her face.
“Two years later, Theodore sent me a video.”
Christopher looked at the camera.
“What did he want?”
“Obedience.”
“Meaning?”
“Stay close to you.”
“Report what you were doing.”
“Make sure you didn’t marry anyone.”
“And Emma?”
Juliette covered her mouth.
Christopher waited.
“He told me Emma would eventually destroy Leo’s future.”
“How?”
“If Emma inherited control, Theodore said Jonathan would lose access to the trust.”
“And?”
“My father’s private debts would become public.”
“Leo’s identity would come out.”
“They would frame Gideon for Rachel’s murder.”
Christopher looked toward the door.
Gideon was outside somewhere.
Juliette continued.
“This morning, they sent me another video.”
“Leo was crying.”
“A man had his hand around his neck.”
Christopher’s anger became icy.
“They told you to kill Emma.”
Juliette shook her head violently.
“No.”
“Then what?”
“They told me to frighten her.”
Christopher stared.
“Into the pool?”
“Yes.”
“She can’t swim.”
“I thought she could.”
Christopher’s jaw clenched.
“You canceled her swimming lessons.”
Juliette went still.
Christopher remembered.
Months earlier Juliette had insisted Emma hated the instructor.
She had canceled the lessons.
“You knew.”
Juliette started crying.
“I forgot.”
Christopher stepped toward her.
“You forgot a seven-year-old couldn’t swim?”
“I panicked.”
“She almost died.”
“I know.”
Christopher’s hands shook.
“I hate you for what you did.”
Juliette nodded through tears.
“You should.”
“But if Theodore ordered it…”
Juliette looked at the camera.
“He didn’t.”
Christopher frowned.
“Who did?”
Juliette whispered.
“A woman called me.”
Christopher stared.
“What woman?”
“She uses a voice changer.”
“The same person who called me?”
“I think so.”
Christopher looked at Margaret.
“Do you know who she is?”
Margaret’s expression changed.
Theodore interrupted.
“Enough.”
Christopher raised the USB again.
“Apparently not.”
A lock clicked near the back wall.
A hidden door opened.
A man entered.
Two guards stood behind him.
He was extremely old.
Thin.
Bent.
But his eyes were bright.
Theodore Pierce.
Christopher stared at his grandfather.
Theodore stared back.
For a long moment neither spoke.
Then Theodore smiled.
“You were always my favorite.”
Christopher’s voice was flat.
“Where is Emma?”
Theodore held out one hand.
“The files.”
Christopher did not move.
Theodore looked at Margaret.
“Take them.”
Margaret stayed still.
“Margaret.”
“No.”
Theodore stared.
She shook her head.
“I already lost Rachel because I listened to you.”
Theodore’s expression became dangerous.
“Rachel died because she refused to understand scale.”
Christopher stepped forward.
“She died because your family killed her.”
Theodore looked at him.
“Would you like to know who was driving the third car?”
Christopher froze.
Theodore smiled.
“Give me the files.”
Christopher’s heart hammered.
“Tell me.”
“Files first.”
Christopher looked at the USB.
Then at Emma on the monitor.
He tossed it onto the table.
Theodore smiled.
“Good boy.”
Christopher wanted to break his jaw.
“Who was driving?”
Theodore picked up the USB.
He studied it.
Then looked at Christopher.
“The third car belonged to your father.”
Christopher stared.
“Arthur?”
Theodore smiled.
“But Arthur wasn’t driving.”
“Who was?”
Theodore’s eyes moved toward the boathouse entrance.
Footsteps approached outside.
Gideon appeared in the doorway.
His weapon raised.
Theodore looked at him.
“There he is.”
Christopher turned slowly.
Gideon stared at Theodore.
Christopher’s voice became hollow.
“No.”
Theodore smiled.
“Daniel Monroe was driving the third car.”
Gideon’s face collapsed.
Christopher looked at him.
May you like
Rachel’s own brother had been there the night she died.
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