Chapter 10: Richard Vale
Richard Vale stood in the doorway of the archive room.
For several seconds, nobody moved.
He looked older than the photographs.
His hair was almost completely gray.
A long scar ran from his left temple to his jaw.
But his eyes were unmistakable.
Cold.
Patient.
Calculating.
The eyes of a man who had spent decades waiting for a moment exactly like this.
“My children.”
The words echoed through the archive.
Andrew stepped in front of me.
“You're supposed to be dead.”
Richard smiled.
“So was your father.”
Emily raised a metal bar she had grabbed from the floor.
“You killed Clara.”
Richard's smile disappeared.
“No.”
“You were there.”
“Yes.”
“You shot her.”
“No.”
Emily's voice broke.
“You destroyed her life.”
Richard looked at her.
“She destroyed mine first.”
I stepped forward.
“What happened to my mother?”
Richard looked at me.
For the first time, his expression changed.
Not guilt.
Something closer to recognition.
“Clara was a remarkable woman.”
“She was my mother.”
“Yes.”
“You knew?”
“Of course.”
“Then why did you let me believe she was dead?”
“She was dead.”
“You let everyone erase her.”
“I didn't erase her.”
“Then who did?”
Richard's gaze moved toward Lorraine.
She was standing behind us.
Richard smiled.
“Ask her.”
Lorraine stepped forward.
“Don't.”
Richard laughed.
“You've spent thirty years telling lies.”
“I was protecting them.”
“You were protecting yourself.”
I looked at Lorraine.
“What did you do?”
She shook her head.
“I didn't kill Clara.”
Richard nodded.
“No.”
He looked at me.
“She didn't pull the trigger.”
“Then who did?”
Richard's eyes moved to Andrew.
Andrew froze.
“You did.”
“What?”
Richard continued.
“Not with a gun.”
He pointed at the documents.
“With information.”
Andrew stared at him.
“What are you talking about?”
“You gave me the location.”
“No.”
“You gave me the hospital room.”
Andrew shook his head.
“I didn't know what you were going to do.”
“You knew enough.”
Andrew looked at me.
“I was twenty-five.”
“You were old enough.”
“I thought you were going to scare her.”
“I never said that.”
Richard stepped closer.
“You wanted your inheritance.”
Andrew's face tightened.
“I changed my mind.”
“Too late.”
I stared at Andrew.
“What did you do?”
Andrew looked devastated.
“I gave Richard information about Clara.”
“Why?”
“Because I thought she had the documents.”
“Did she?”
“Yes.”
“Did you know she was my mother?”
“No.”
I looked at Richard.
“What documents?”
“The original trust.”
“Why did Clara have it?”
“Because your father gave it to her.”
“Why?”
Richard smiled.
“Because he knew he couldn't trust himself.”
I frowned.
“What does that mean?”
Richard walked toward the shelves.
“Your father discovered the truth about your birth.”
“The truth that Clara was my mother.”
“Yes.”
“And that I was your daughter.”
Richard nodded.
“Unfortunately.”
My stomach turned.
“Why unfortunately?”
“Because your blood made you the key to everything.”
I stared at him.
“What does that mean?”
“Your mother had access to my financial records.”
“She did?”
“She stole them.”
Richard smiled.
“She was clever.”
“What did she steal?”
“The names of everyone who helped me.”
“The people in File 17-B.”
“Yes.”
“Why did my father protect her?”
“Because he loved her.”
I felt a strange ache in my chest.
“My father loved my mother?”
Richard nodded.
“More than he ever loved your stepmother.”
I looked at Lorraine.
She looked away.
“Then why did he stay with Lorraine?”
“Because she had Andrew.”
I stared at him.
Andrew's face tightened.
“My father stayed with her because of me?”
“Yes.”
Richard's expression hardened.
“Michael believed he could protect you both.”
“And he failed.”
“Spectacularly.”
I looked at the archive shelves.
“How many children were involved?”
Richard didn't answer.
“How many?”
“Twenty-three.”
My stomach dropped.
“Twenty-three children?”
“Yes.”
“Were they all used for inheritance schemes?”
“Not all.”
“Then what?”
“Some were witnesses.”
“To what?”
“My business.”
I felt sick.
Richard continued.
“Children are easy to hide.”
Emily stepped forward.
“You used us.”
“I protected you.”
“You kidnapped me.”
“I saved you from Michael.”
“You kept me locked away.”
“Because he was looking for you.”
“You lied to me.”
“Yes.”
“You told me my parents abandoned me.”
Richard's expression softened.
“I told you what you needed to believe.”
Emily shook with rage.
“You're a monster.”
Richard looked at her.
“Perhaps.”
Then he looked at me.
“But I never intended to kill you.”
I laughed.
“You murdered my mother.”
“No.”
“You destroyed my family.”
“No.”
“You manipulated my husband.”
“No.”
He smiled.
“Your husband came to me willingly.”
Andrew looked away.
I turned toward him.
“Is that true?”
Andrew didn't answer.
Richard continued.
“He came because he was drowning in debt.”
I felt my stomach twist.
“He needed money.”
Andrew whispered:
“Yes.”
“How much?”
“Three hundred thousand dollars.”
I stared at him.
“When?”
“Three years ago.”
“Why didn't you tell me?”
“I was ashamed.”
Richard laughed.
“Shame didn't stop him.”
Andrew looked at him.
“Enough.”
“You came to me.”
“I know.”
“You begged.”
“I know.”
“You promised to marry her.”
Andrew's face turned pale.
I stepped backward.
“You planned this before you proposed.”
Andrew's eyes filled with tears.
“Yes.”
My chest tightened.
“Then when did you start loving me?”
He looked at me.
“I don't know.”
“That isn't an answer.”
“After the wedding.”
“When?”
“The first year.”
I shook my head.
“While you were sleeping with another woman?”
Richard interrupted.
“That woman wasn't his lover.”
I looked at him.
“Then who was she?”
“My daughter.”
Silence.
Emily stared at Richard.
“You have another daughter?”
Richard smiled.
“Several.”
My stomach turned.
The woman in the photographs.
The supposed mistress.
She was Richard's daughter.
An investigator.
A decoy.
Andrew had been working with her.
But why?
I looked at Richard.
“Why pretend Andrew was having an affair?”
“To make you angry.”
“That doesn't make sense.”
“It was supposed to make you leave him.”
I frowned.
“Why?”
“Because once you divorced him, the trust would become vulnerable.”
I stared at him.
“You wanted me separated.”
“Yes.”
“Then what?”
“I would approach you.”
“For the inheritance.”
“No.”
He smiled.
“For the key.”
I felt the key in my pocket.
The hospital key.
“What key?”
“The key to the original records.”
My heart stopped.
“You knew I had it?”
“I knew Emily gave it to you.”
I looked at Emily.
“How?”
Richard smiled.
“Because I was the one who gave it to her.”
Emily's face changed.
“You?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“Three days ago.”
She looked horrified.
“You used me.”
“Yes.”
“You knew I'd find her.”
“I needed you to.”
“Why?”
“Because you were the only person she would trust.”
I felt a cold realization settle over me.
Richard hadn't brought us here by accident.
He had been moving pieces around a board for years.
My father.
My mother.
Lorraine.
Andrew.
Emily.
Me.
All of us.
Then Richard pulled a small envelope from his coat.
He tossed it onto the table.
“Open it.”
I didn't move.
“What is it?”
“The final page of File 17-B.”
I stared at the envelope.
“Why give it to me?”
“Because you're finally ready.”
I opened it.
Inside was one sheet.
At the top was my father's signature.
Below it were several paragraphs.
I began reading.
My father's handwriting was unmistakable.
If Richard ever returns, do not trust him.
I looked at Richard.
He smiled.
I continued.
But do not trust me either.
My heart stopped.
The next line made my hands tremble.
I have lied to my daughter about the identity of her biological father.
I looked at Richard.
Then Andrew.
Then Emily.
My father had written:
Richard Vale is not her father.
I stopped breathing.
Richard's smile disappeared.
I read the next sentence.
The man she believes is Richard's son is also not Richard's biological son.
Andrew stepped forward.
“What?”
I continued.
There was another man.
My father's handwriting became shakier.
A man whose identity I erased because he was more dangerous than Richard.
At the bottom was a name.
I stared at it.
I had never heard the name before.
But Richard had.
His face went completely white.
Emily looked at him.
“Who is that?”
Richard whispered:
“Your grandfather.”
I stared at the page.
My grandfather?
My father had never mentioned him.
Not once.
Richard stepped backward.
For the first time, the powerful man in the room looked afraid.
“That's impossible.”
I looked at him.
“You know him.”
“No.”
“You do.”
Richard shook his head.
“He's dead.”
My phone suddenly rang.
Unknown number.
I answered.
A man's voice came through.
Old.
Weak.
But unmistakably calm.
“Hello, sweetheart.”
I froze.
Nobody spoke.
Then the voice said:
“I've been waiting for thirty-two years.”
My blood turned to ice.
“Who is this?”
A pause.
Then:
“Your grandfather.”
The call ended.
Richard looked at me.
And whispered:
“Do not answer if he calls again.”
I stared at him.
“Why?”
Richard's eyes filled with genuine fear.
“Because your grandfather isn't calling to find you.”
May you like
He looked toward the archive door.
“He's calling to kill you.”
