Chapter 7 - The Secret Beneath the MarbleNo one moved.
Stallone's father descended the stairs one step at a time.
He was older than the man in the photographs.
Thinner.
Palier.
But unmistakably the same person.
Stallone watched him approach.
“You let me bury you.”
His father nodded.
“Yes.”
“You let me believe you were dead.”
“Yes.”
“You watched me raise my son.”
“Yes.”
“You watched what happened to Noah.”
The old man looked at the floor.
“I did.”
Stallone's fists tightened.
“Then you are the reason this happened.”
His father looked up.
“Not entirely.”
Richard stepped aside.
“Tell him.”
The old man sighed.
“Your wife discovered that someone inside the family was laundering money through the trust.”
“Who?”
“I suspected your mother.”
Helen closed her eyes.
“I wasn't.”
“You were hiding information.”
“To protect you.”
“You were hiding information from your own son.”
Stallone cut them off.
“Enough.”
He pointed toward his father.
“What happened the night my wife died?”
His father answered:
“She was leaving with Noah.”
“Why?”
“She knew someone was coming for her.”
“Who?”
“The person who had been using your company to move money.”
“Name him.”
His father shook his head.
“I never learned.”
Stallone's eyes narrowed.
“You expect me to believe that?”
“I don't expect you to believe anything.”
The old man turned toward Noah.
“I expect him to remember.”
Noah stared at him.
“You were there.”
The boy's face went pale.
“Did you hurt Mama?”
“No.”
“Did you touch me?”
“No.”
“Then who did?”
His grandfather looked at him.
“I don't know.”
Noah began crying.
Stallone lifted him.
“That's enough.”
He carried Noah out.
But before leaving, he noticed something on the marble floor.
A tiny black mark.
He knelt.
It was beneath one of the tiles near the staircase.
A screw.
Loose.
He removed the tile.
Underneath was a narrow metal container.
Inside lay a ledger.
Names.
Dates.
Amounts.
Payments.
Stallone scanned the pages.
Then he stopped.
One name appeared every month.
HELENA STALLONE.
Another.
RICHARD VALE.
Another.
JULIAN STALLONE.
And another name he had never seen before.
DANIEL CROSS.
He looked at his father.
“Who is Daniel Cross?”
His father went completely still.
Richard's face also changed.
Helen began crying.
Stallone noticed.
“You know him.”
No answer.
“Who is he?”
His father finally spoke.
“He was your father's driver.”
“You didn't tell me.”
“Because he vanished.”
“When?”
“The week before your wife died.”
Stallone flipped through the ledger.
Every transfer made to Daniel Cross was followed by the same notation.
HOUSE ACCESS.
He felt a chill.
Daniel had keys.
Daniel knew the mansion.
Daniel knew the family schedule.
Daniel could enter unnoticed.
Stallone's phone rang.
A private investigator spoke rapidly.
“Sir, we've found Daniel Cross.”
“Where?”
“At a private clinic.”
“Alive?”
“Yes.”
“Get him.”
“We tried.”
“And?”
“He disappeared ten minutes ago.”
Stallone looked up.
The security room monitor flashed.
A door in the mansion had opened.
Then another.
Then another.
Someone was moving through the house.
Fast.
Stallone's investigator tracked the signal.
“The person is inside.”
“Where?”
“West wing.”
Stallone remembered the order.
Keep him away from the west wing.
He grabbed a flashlight.
“I'm going there.”
Gideon blocked him.
“Sir, wait.”
“Move.”
“There may be a reason he was kept away.”
Stallone stared.
“What reason?”
Gideon looked toward the dark corridor.
“We don't know.”
Suddenly, a child's voice came from the speaker.
Noah.
“Daddy?”
Stallone froze.
The intercom crackled.
Then Noah screamed.
Stallone ran.
The west wing door slammed shut behind him.
Inside, every light was off.
At the far end of the corridor, a figure stood beside the window.
Wearing a red tie.
Stallone raised the flashlight.
The figure disappeared.
Then something fell to the floor.
A photograph.
Stallone picked it up.
It showed his wife.
Standing beside Daniel Cross.
And behind them was a little boy.
Not Noah.
A second child.
Stallone stared at the photograph.
May you like
On the back was written:
THE CHILD YOU WERE NEVER TOLD ABOUT.
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