Chapter 9 - THE BROTHER
I couldn't breathe.
“My brother is dead.”
Martin shook his head.
“Your brother disappeared.”
“You're lying.”
“I wish I were.”
Morales took the photograph.
“Who is this?”
“Thomas Bennett.”
My brother.
I hadn't heard his voice in twelve years.
Hadn't seen his face.
Hadn't known whether to hate him or miss him.
Now I was being told he'd been alive.
Working with the same people who had targeted my daughter.
“Why?”
Martin looked at me.
“Because Thomas was in debt.”
“How much?”
“More than he could repay.”
“And they bought him.”
Martin nodded.
“He gave them access to your family.”
I stared at the ledger.
The first page had been dated fifteen years earlier.
My father's name appeared.
Then mine.
Then Claire's.
They had been watching us for years.
Not months.
Years.
“Why Claire?” I asked.
Martin answered quietly.
“Because you had refused to move the trust.”
“What trust?”
“The family trust.”
I shook my head.
“I never refused.”
“You did.”
“I don't know what you're talking about.”
Martin looked at me.
“Your father created a protected trust. It cannot be accessed unless Claire reaches twenty-five.”
Claire stared at him.
“I'm twenty-four.”
“Exactly.”
The room went silent.
Martin continued.
“Once you turn twenty-five, the trust transfers control to you.”
“How much?”
He hesitated.
“Approximately eleven million dollars.”
Claire covered her mouth.
I couldn't believe it.
“My father never told me.”
“He didn't want you to know.”
“Why?”
“Because he knew someone would try to take it.”
Then a gunshot shattered the window.
Everyone dropped.
Patricia screamed.
Morales moved toward the wall.
Another shot.
Glass exploded across the floor.
“Down!”
We crawled toward the basement.
Olivia grabbed Claire.
I stayed beside them.
Morales called for backup.
Then my phone rang.
Unknown number.
I answered.
A voice said:
“You finally understand.”
I knew the voice.
I hadn't heard it in twelve years.
But I knew it.
“Thomas?”
Silence.
Then:
“Hello, little brother.”
My entire body went numb.
“Where are you?”
“Close.”
“Why are you doing this?”
A soft laugh.
“You still think this is about money.”
“What is it about?”
“You.”
I froze.
“What?”
“You've been protected for years.”
“By whom?”
“Our father.”
“My father is dead.”
“So you think.”
My blood ran cold.
Thomas continued.
“He knew what they were doing.”
“Then why didn't he stop them?”
“He tried.”
“What happened?”
“They killed him.”
I couldn't speak.
Thomas whispered:
“And now they're coming for Claire.”
“Why?”
“Because she knows the truth.”
“What truth?”
Silence.
Then:
“She isn't your daughter.”
The call ended.
I stared at the phone.
Claire looked at me.
“Dad?”
I couldn't answer.
Because for the first time in my life, I wondered whether the one thing I had always believed without question—
May you like
might be a lie.
---
