Chapter 5 - THE MAN WHO CLAIMED HER FATHER’S NAMEThe man on the balcony looked nothing like Adrian.
“What are you doing?”
“Finding the woman who was just here.”
“You’re recovering from seven bullets.”
“Thank you for the medical update.”
She held up the photograph.
His expression changed immediately.
“Where did you get that?”
“The housekeeper.”
“What housekeeper?”
“Silver hair. Maybe sixty. Wears a rose pendant.”
Adrian went completely still.
“No one matching that description works here.”
Emily stared.
“What?”
Adrian reached for the photograph.
She pulled it back.
“No.”
“Emily.”
“You already stole my DNA, my marital status, and apparently half my family history. You don’t get the picture too.”
He pressed an intercom button.
“Lock the estate.”
Emily stared.
“You’re serious?”
“Gabriel. Find every person who entered the west wing during the last hour.”
Adrian ended the call.
“Describe her.”
Emily did.
His face grew darker with every detail.
“What?”
“The pendant.”
“What about it?”
“My sister Helena wore one.”
Emily looked at the photograph again.
“Then who was that woman?”
“I don’t know.”
Adrian took out his phone.
“Does your estate often have mysterious women wandering through private bedrooms?”
“No.”
“Good. I’d hate to think this was normal.”
Security footage showed something impossible.
At 2:14 p.m., the woman entered through a staff corridor.
At 2:21, she entered Emily’s room.
At 2:27, she left.
At 2:29, she walked through a side door into the garden.
Then vanished.
No vehicle.
No second camera captured her.
Gabriel replayed the footage.
“She knew exactly where the blind spot was.”
Adrian leaned closer.
“So she’d been here before.”
Emily sat in a wheelchair beside them despite her doctor’s objections.
“Zoom in.”
Gabriel enlarged the woman’s face.
Emily studied it.
Then Adrian spoke.
“I know her.”
Everyone turned.
“Her name is Margaret Shaw.”
Emily frowned.
“Who is she?”
“My sister’s childhood friend.”
“Is?”
“She disappeared around the same time Helena did.”
Emily stared at the screen.
“Apparently she didn’t disappear very far.”
Margaret Shaw had been Helena’s closest friend.
Their fathers worked together.
Their families vacationed together.
Margaret attended school dances at Vale House.
Then, at twenty-three, she vanished.
No bank accounts.
No social-security activity.
No death certificate.
Nothing.
Adrian had assumed she died.
Now Margaret had walked into his house as casually as though she had been expected.
Emily looked at him.
“She wanted me to find that photograph.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because she wants you asking questions.”
“Then let’s ask them.”
Adrian shook his head.
“No.”
Emily gave him an incredulous look.
“You cannot seriously think saying no works on me anymore.”
“The Serranos are involved.”
“Who are they?”
Adrian hesitated.
“A family my father went to war with.”
“Criminal family?”
“Yes.”
“And you think my mother knew them?”
“I know she did.”
Adrian handed Emily the photograph of Helena.
Then another.
A young man stood beside her.
Tall.
Dark hair.
A silver crucifix at his throat.
Emily looked at Adrian.
“Who is he?”
“Mateo Serrano.”
“Boyfriend?”
“Husband.”
Emily’s head jerked up.
“What?”
“Secretly married.”
“And you just discovered this?”
“Yes.”
“Who was Mateo?”
“Raphael Serrano’s son.”
Emily slowly understood.
“My biological father.”
Adrian nodded.
“And if he was a Serrano…”
“You carry blood from both families.”
The room became quiet.
Emily stared at her hands.
Vale.
Serrano.
She had spent her entire life believing she was the daughter of a Cleveland nurse and an unknown man who had abandoned them.
Now she was apparently the biological child of two criminal dynasties.
“This is insane.”
“I agree.”
“Then why would anyone want me?”
Adrian looked at Gabriel.
Gabriel answered.
“Because the old Vale-Serrano war ended without a legitimate heir recognized by both sides.”
Emily laughed once.
No humor in it.
“So what? I’m some medieval treaty?”
“In certain circles,” Adrian said, “bloodlines still matter.”
“I serve pancakes at six in the morning.”
“You also inherited voting rights.”
Emily froze.
“What voting rights?”
Adrian had been saving that part.
“Your grandfather created holding companies designed to divide assets among descendants.”
“Assets meaning?”
“Ports. Property. Logistics companies. Trusts.”
“How much?”
Adrian did not answer immediately.
Emily’s eyes narrowed.
“How much?”
“Approximately two-point-eight billion dollars.”
She stared.
“No.”
“Depending on valuation.”
“I currently have seventy-three dollars in checking.”
“I know.”
“You checked my bank account?”
“Yes.”
“Stop doing that!”
“I’ll consider it.”
She threw the photograph at him.
He caught it.
Gabriel coughed to hide laughter.
The trail to Margaret began with the silver rose pendant.
Only six had ever been made.
Adrian’s grandmother commissioned them for Helena and her closest friends.
One jeweler remained alive.
He remembered repairing Margaret’s pendant three months earlier.
Payment had been made through cash.
Pickup address?
An abandoned church in the Bronx.
Adrian wanted Emily kept home.
Emily refused.
“I’m going.”
“No.”
“You’re not my father.”
“I’m technically your husband.”
Her eyes widened.
“Say that again and I will make one of these seven bullet wounds your problem.”
Gabriel turned away.
Adrian sighed.
“Fine.”
St. Agnes Church had been closed for sixteen years.
Dust covered the pews.
Rain leaked through broken stained glass.
Adrian entered first.
Emily followed slowly with a cane and body armor hidden beneath her coat.
“You realize this vest hurts more than the bullets?”
“It will hurt less than another bullet.”
“Debatable.”
A candle suddenly flickered near the altar.
Someone was there.
Margaret Shaw stepped from behind a column.
Emily stopped.
Margaret looked at Adrian.
“You grew into your father’s face.”
Adrian’s jaw tightened.
“That’s not a compliment.”
“It wasn’t meant as one.”
Emily stepped forward.
“Where is Helena?”
Margaret looked at her.
Her eyes filled with grief.
“You have Mateo’s courage.”
“Where is my mother?”
Margaret walked closer.
“She wanted to come herself.”
Emily’s breath caught.
“She’s alive?”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“Safe. For now.”
Emily began crying before she realized it.
“Why didn’t she find me?”
Margaret’s expression broke.
“Because finding you would have killed you.”
Emily shook her head.
“She left me.”
“She saved you.”
Adrian stepped closer.
“From whom?”
Margaret looked directly at him.
“Your father.”
Adrian went still.
“Vincent is dead.”
“Vincent Vale was never the only monster inside your family.”
A sound came from the darkness.
Metal scraping.
Adrian drew his weapon.
Too late.
Men emerged from both side aisles.
At least eight.
Weapons raised.
Margaret whispered, “They followed you.”
Emily looked toward Adrian.
“Who?”
Margaret answered.
“The people who murdered Mateo Serrano.”
The church doors slammed shut behind them.
May you like
And a familiar voice echoed from the balcony.
“Welcome home, Emily.”
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