Chapter 5 - What My Father Stole From MeI had spent thirteen years running my father's empire.
Thirteen years believing I was his son.
Thirteen years believing his stroke had forced me to become the man of the family.
Now I was standing inside an abandoned warehouse learning that none of those things were true.
I turned to Mara.
“Who was that man?”
“My husband.”
My jaw tightened.
“You married someone else?”
“After you disappeared.”
“You mean after your family told me you died.”
“Yes.”
“Was Elias his son?”
Mara nodded.
“Yes.”
Something twisted in my chest.
“Then why did he look like me?”
Mara took one step closer.
“Because he was your twin brother.”
The words landed harder than any bullet.
I stared at Elias.
“No.”
“Yes.”
“You said he was my son.”
“I said they told you he was your son.”
My mind raced.
“What the hell are you talking about?”
Mara's voice softened.
“You were born a twin.”
I shook my head.
“My mother had one child.”
“Your mother was told that.”
“By who?”
“Victor.”
The room felt smaller.
Mara pointed toward the photograph.
“The man beside me was Daniel Mercer. He was your father's closest friend. Victor used him for something unforgivable.”
I waited.
“He had your DNA altered on birth records.”
I laughed bitterly.
“That's insane.”
“It's true.”
She reached into her coat and pulled out a thin folder.
Inside were hospital records.
Two infants.
Male.
Female.
Birth time: 2:13 a.m. and 2:21 a.m.
Names had been blacked out.
Then another document.
A custody transfer.
Infant B transferred to a private clinic.
No mother listed.
I stared at the signature.
Victor Vale.
I dropped the folder.
“Claire.”
Mara nodded.
“Victor took your sister.”
“And Elias?”
“He was hidden with me.”
“Then why was he buried?”
“To make everyone think both children were dead.”
“Everyone?”
Mara's eyes hardened.
“Everyone except Charles Rennick.”
A phone vibrated.
Petr checked his screen.
He looked at me.
“Boss.”
“What?”
“The federal task force reopened the Vale port investigation tonight.”
I frowned.
“Tonight?”
He nodded.
“Someone sent them files.”
“Who?”
He turned the phone around.
The sender was anonymous.
The attachment contained one sentence:
ASK DAMON WHO REALLY OWNS THE HARBOR.
I looked at Mara.
She went pale.
“You don't own it?”
“No.”
“Then who does?”
Mara whispered the name.
“Claire.”
Silence.
I stared at her.
“You said she was dead.”
“She was.”
“Then how can she own anything?”
Mara looked toward Elias.
Elias closed his eyes.
“Because Claire didn't die.”
My heart stopped.
“What?”
“She disappeared.”
“Where?”
“No one knows.”
“When?”
“Four years ago.”
I looked at the folder.
“Why did you tell me she was dead?”
“Because whoever took her wanted me to believe she was.”
Petr took a step forward.
“Boss, this is getting worse.”
“Why?”
He held out a second phone.
A photograph had just been delivered.
A young woman standing outside one of my warehouses.
Long dark hair.
Gray-green eyes.
A tiny scar under her chin.
My face.
Her face.
My sister.
Alive.
The timestamp was from seventeen minutes ago.
On the back of the photograph someone had written:
COME ALONE. BRING THE LITTLE GIRL.
I looked at Ellie.
She was standing perfectly still.
Then she whispered:
“I know that place.”
I crouched.
“Where?”
She pointed at the photograph.
“The church.”
“Which church?”
She swallowed.
“The one Mommy told me never to enter.”
I looked at the picture.
A church stood behind Claire.
Abandoned.
Burned.
Marked on old city maps as St. Agnes.
A place my father had banned me from visiting since I was a child.
I straightened.
“Mara.”
She looked at me.
“Why was St. Agnes forbidden?”
She didn't answer.
Elias did.
“Because that's where they buried the first body.”
I felt the temperature drop.
“Whose?”
He looked straight at me.
“Yours.”
Before I could react, the warehouse lights snapped on.
Every door slammed shut.
Then a woman's voice came over the speakers.
“Hello, Damon.”
I knew that voice.
May you like
It was Claire.
And she was laughing.
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