CHAPTER 10 – The Man Who Never Died
For several seconds, no one in the ballroom moved.
Every screen displayed the same live surveillance feed from the underground parking garage.
The elderly man stood beside the black sedan, leaning lightly on a polished wooden cane.
He looked older than Richard remembered.
His shoulders were thinner.
His hair had turned completely silver.
But his eyes...
They were unmistakable.
"Theodore..." Richard whispered.
Samuel covered his mouth with both hands.
"I buried him..."
"I stood at his funeral."
Detective Laura Bennett turned sharply toward the surveillance technician.
"Confirm the feed."
The technician typed furiously.
"It's live."
"No edits."
"No playback."
"This is happening right now."
The mysterious man glanced directly into the parking garage camera.
Then, almost as if he knew everyone upstairs was watching...
He smiled.
A slow, knowing smile.
Finally, he spoke.
Not into a phone.
Not to another person.
He looked straight into the camera lens.
"I'm tired of hiding."
The audio came through every speaker in the ballroom.
Gasps rippled through the room.
Richard rushed toward the exit.
"Come with me."
His security team followed immediately.
Detective Bennett grabbed her radio.
"All units."
"Proceed to Parking Level Three."
"Suspect is elderly, carrying a cane."
"Approach carefully."
Within seconds, officers flooded the stairwells.
Vivienne started to follow.
Richard turned back.
"No."
She frowned.
"I'm coming."
"You could be in danger."
"So could you."
Their eyes met.
Richard realized something.
For years, he had tried to protect his daughter by keeping her away from family secrets.
Tonight, those secrets had found her anyway.
He nodded.
"Stay beside me."
The group hurried through the service elevator and into the underground garage.
The concrete level was eerily quiet.
The black sedan was still there.
Its engine had been turned off.
The rear door remained open.
But...
The old man was gone.
Detective Bennett scanned the area.
"Spread out!"
Officers searched every row of parked vehicles.
Nothing.
One officer returned after several minutes.
"Ma'am."
"The driver's seat is empty."
"There are no fingerprints."
"No registration."
"The VIN number has been filed off."
Richard looked around slowly.
"Theodore wouldn't disappear."
"Not after revealing himself."
Then Samuel pointed toward the concrete floor.
"There."
A wooden cane lay beside the sedan.
Richard picked it up carefully.
It felt unusually heavy.
Too heavy.
He twisted the silver handle.
With a soft click...
The cane split into two pieces.
Hidden inside was a tightly rolled document.
Richard unfolded it.
At the top, in Theodore's handwriting, were six words.
Someone here murdered the wrong man.
Silence.
Even Detective Bennett seemed unable to speak.
"The wrong man?" Dominic whispered.
"What does that mean?"
Richard continued reading.
"My name is Theodore Hawthorne."
"If this letter has been found..."
"...then the man buried twelve years ago..."
"...was never me."
Vivienne felt her knees weaken.
Richard caught her before she could fall.
The letter continued.
"A terminally ill volunteer died in my place."
"He chose to disappear from the world."
"I chose to disappear from my enemies."
Detective Bennett stared in disbelief.
"He faked his death..."
"...with another man's body."
Richard turned another page.
"There was no boating accident."
"The explosion was staged."
"I had already left the boat."
"My enemies watched the flames."
"They believed I was inside."
Samuel wiped tears from his eyes.
"You were alive..."
"All these years."
Richard reached the final page.
His expression suddenly changed.
"What is it?" Vivienne asked.
He silently handed her the letter.
At the bottom, Theodore had written:
The person who ordered my death is attending Chloe's wedding.
Everyone looked at one another.
The wedding guests.
The family.
The hotel staff.
The police.
Anyone could still be involved.
Detective Bennett immediately radioed upstairs.
"Seal every exit."
"No one leaves the ballroom."
Just then, one of Richard's security officers came running into the garage.
"Sir!"
Richard turned.
"What happened?"
"The leather journal..."
"The one from the lockbox..."
"It's gone."
Richard's eyes widened.
"What?"
"It disappeared."
"So did Rachel."
The wedding planner.
She was nowhere to be found.
Vivienne's heart sank.
"She helped us."
Richard slowly shook his head.
"Or..."
"...she helped someone else."
Before anyone could react—
Richard's phone vibrated.
An unknown number.
He answered immediately.
A calm female voice spoke.
"Don't look for Rachel."
"You'll never find her."
Richard's expression hardened.
"Who is this?"
The woman laughed softly.
"You've been chasing the wrong mystery for twelve years."
Then she whispered one sentence that left everyone speechless.
May you like
Rachel Bennett isn't her real name.
The call disconnected.
