Chapter 14 - The Last RecordingMy mother was crying on the recording.
My father's breathing was ragged.
Victor's voice was calm.
“Sign the trust.”
My father refused.
“You'll never get it.”
Victor laughed.
“You're protecting the wrong son.”
My father's voice changed.
“Connor knows nothing.”
“He will.”
Then my mother spoke.
“Victor, please.”
“You asked for this.”
“No.”
“You chose money.”
Silence.
Then a gunshot.
My father gasped.
I stopped the recording.
I couldn't listen anymore.
My mother had been there.
She had watched.
She had known.
Yet the worst part came next.
A second recording.
This one was recorded minutes later.
My father was still alive.
Victor was gone.
My mother was crying beside him.
“Why didn't you help?”
“I was afraid.”
“Help me.”
“I can't.”
“You can.”
My father whispered.
“Take the key.”
“What key?”
“The one I gave Connor.”
My mother froze.
Then my father said:
“Do not let them find the archive.”
My mother looked toward the camera.
Then she whispered:
“I'm sorry.”
The recording ended.
My attorney found a hidden reference.
Archive 17.
A storage facility in Nashville.
We went there immediately.
The locker was under my father's name.
Inside were boxes.
Photographs.
Bank records.
Legal documents.
And one cassette.
My father had recorded everything.
Victor's illegal acquisitions.
Harold's shell companies.
Teresa's fraud.
The forged deeds.
Everything.
But there was one final folder.
It contained a list of names.
Judges.
Lawyers.
Bankers.
Police officers.
People who had been paid.
The conspiracy was much larger than our family.
Victor had built a machine.
My father had spent decades trying to expose it.
And I had accidentally stepped into the center of it.
Then Michael walked into the storage room.
“You found it.”
I turned.
“How did you know?”
“I've been following Victor.”
“You could have told me.”
“I didn't know who to trust.”
I understood.
Because neither did I.
Michael looked at the folder.
“There's one more thing.”
“What?”
“Victor isn't running.”
“Where is he?”
“Back at your house.”
My blood froze.
We raced home.
The doors were open.
The lights were off.
Police entered first.
Then I heard Amy scream.
I ran upstairs.
Victor stood in the hallway.
He had Amy in front of him.
A weapon pressed against her.
Frederick was in the nursery.
Alive.
Victor looked at me.
“You found the archive.”
I nodded.
“Let her go.”
“You have the evidence.”
“I do.”
“Then burn it.”
“No.”
Victor smiled.
“You're your father's son.”
I moved one step.
He tightened his grip.
“You think your father was a hero?”
“Yes.”
“He wasn't.”
Victor laughed.
“He made deals too.”
I froze.
“What deals?”
Victor looked at Michael.
“Ask your brother.”
I turned.
Michael's face had gone pale.
“What?”
Victor smiled.
“Tell him.”
Michael swallowed.
“I knew.”
“Knew what?”
“That Dad wasn't protecting us from Mom.”
He looked at me.
“He was protecting us from himself.”
Silence.
Victor laughed.
“You finally understand.”
My father hadn't been innocent.
The archive contained the truth.
But there was a darker secret.
A secret my brother had carried alone.
My father hadn't merely been fighting the conspiracy.
He had built part of it.
And Victor now held the one piece of evidence that could destroy all three of us.
The weapon.
The trust.
The family.
Everything.
Then Victor said:
“Connor, your father left you a fortune.”
May you like
He lowered his voice.
“And a crime.”
