Chapter 13 - The Man at the Funeral
The funeral home had been closed for renovations for almost a year.
Its stained-glass windows were covered with plywood, the front doors were chained shut, and weeds grew through the cracks in the steps.
Damian arrived just before sunrise with Mateo and a small security team. Elena insisted on coming, while Rosa stayed with Sophia at the mansion.
Bruno was left behind reluctantly.
The dog had become Sophia’s shadow, and for once, Damian had no intention of separating them.
Inside the funeral home, the air smelled of dust and damp plaster. The reception desk had been overturned, and several empty coffins lay stacked in a side room.
A single light burned at the end of the corridor.
Damian approached with his weapon drawn.
“Gabriel?”
No answer.
He opened the door.
A young man sat behind a desk, his hands folded in front of him. He had Damian’s eyes, his father’s narrow nose, and the same faint scar near his left eyebrow.
He was younger than Damian had expected, perhaps thirty-five. His black jacket was worn at the cuffs, and a bruise darkened one side of his face.
He looked up.
“Damian Cruz.”
“You know who I am.”
“I've known who you are for a long time.”
Elena stepped into the room.
Gabriel’s expression tightened.
“You're supposed to be dead.”
“So I keep hearing,” she replied.
He gave a small, humorless smile.
“Victor told me you died in the fire. He said Damian abandoned you because you were holding him back.”
Damian lowered his weapon.
“Victor told you about me?”
“He found me when I was nineteen. Told me I was the son your father had thrown away. He showed me the inheritance documents and promised to help me claim what belonged to me.”
“And you believed him.”
“I believed what I wanted to believe.”
Gabriel looked toward the doorway.
“He told me you would kill me if I ever came near the family.”
Damian shook his head.
“Your father searched for you. He left instructions to find you, but someone erased the adoption records. I didn't know you existed until two days ago.”
Gabriel stared at him.
For the first time, doubt replaced the bitterness in his expression.
“Then why am I here?”
Damian placed the photograph on the desk.
“Because Victor believes you are the last obstacle between him and control of the family trust.”
Gabriel nodded slowly.
“He wanted me to sign a document transferring my claim. I refused.”
“What did he do?”
“He sent men to bring me here.”
Elena's face hardened.
“Where are they?”
Gabriel pointed toward the room behind him.
“Dead.”
Mateo moved past the desk.
Three men lay on the floor, their weapons beside them. Each had been shot once.
Damian looked back at Gabriel.
“You killed them?”
“They tried to kill me first.”
“Did Victor tell you to?”
Gabriel did not answer.
The silence was enough.
Damian sighed.
“You are not obligated to follow the path our father followed.”
Gabriel laughed.
“Easy for you to say. You were raised in the mansion. You had the name, the respect, the power. I spent twenty years wondering why nobody wanted me.”
“And I spent six years believing my wife and daughter were dead.”
Gabriel's laughter faded.
Damian stepped closer.
“None of us chose what happened to us. But we can choose what happens next.”
Gabriel looked at the floor.
Then he reached beneath the desk and pulled out a thick envelope.
“My father left this with a lawyer before he died. Victor knew about it, but he never found the original.”
Inside lay a sealed trust amendment and a letter.
Damian read the first page.
The document confirmed Gabriel’s place in the inheritance. But it also contained a clause that neither brother had known about.
If any beneficiary attempted to murder, abduct, or unlawfully detain another member of the family, that beneficiary would forfeit every claim.
The clause had been signed by their grandfather and witnessed by two independent attorneys.
Victor had spent years trying to eliminate the other heirs.
And by kidnapping Sophia, imprisoning Elena, and attempting to kill Damian, he had destroyed his own claim to the fortune.
Gabriel leaned back in his chair.
“He wanted me to kill you. He said the trust would be mine if I removed the final obstacle.”
Damian folded the papers.
“Then he lied.”
“He lies about everything.”
A sound came from the front entrance.
Mateo turned sharply.
The chained doors rattled.
Someone had arrived.
Gabriel reached for a gun beneath the desk.
Damian raised a hand.
“Wait.”
A voice called from outside.
“Damian?”
It was Peter Walsh.
The old groundskeeper entered the corridor with his hands raised. Behind him stood two police officers.
“I found Victor's second account,” Peter said. “There is money going to a private residence on the coast. Someone has been paying for an unidentified woman to live there under guard.”
Elena's expression went rigid.
“Who?”
Peter looked at her.
“I think you already know.”
He handed her a photograph.
The image showed a woman standing on a balcony, her face turned toward the sea.
It was a younger woman with long brown hair, dressed in white.
Elena's hands began to shake.
She knew the face.
She had not seen it since the night her daughter was born.
May you like
It belonged to Lydia, Gabriel’s mother.
And according to the official records, Lydia had been dead for twenty years.
