Chapter 8 - MIDNIGHT AT THE CEMETERYThere was no universe in which federal agents planned to let me walk alone into a cemetery to meet Victor Soren.
There was also no universe in which I intended to ignore him.
The address led to Marlowe Memorial Gardens, where my father had been buried sixteen years earlier.
Soren chose midnight for drama.
Men like him always believed darkness made them more powerful.
The FBI developed a plan.
Hidden teams.
Thermal surveillance.
Unmarked vehicles.
A microphone beneath my coat.
I would appear alone.
I hated every part of it.
Rodrigo hated it more.
“You’re not going.”
“I am.”
“He’s obsessed with you.”
“That’s why he asked for me.”
“He poisoned you.”
“He targeted me.”
“He killed our daughter.”
I looked at him sharply.
He corrected himself.
“He may have caused Grace’s death.”
We both knew the difference mattered legally.
Emotionally, it didn’t.
At 11:58 p.m., I walked through the cemetery gates.
Fog drifted over the grass.
My father’s grave stood beneath an old cypress tree.
A man waited beside it.
Victor Soren.
Sixty-one.
Gray coat.
Silver hair.
No visible weapon.
He looked disappointingly normal.
“Elena.”
His voice matched the recording from the burned safe.
“Victor.”
“You look like Richard.”
“You don’t.”
He smiled faintly.
“Still sharp.”
“Why did you ask me here?”
“To tell you what your father never did.”
“You had sixteen years.”
“I wanted you mature enough to understand.”
“You poisoned me because you thought that would make me mature?”
His expression didn’t change.
“I never ordered anyone to kill your child.”
The microphone beneath my coat felt suddenly heavy.
“You ordered Mayhew to increase the dose.”
“I ordered him to make you weak.”
“You knew I was pregnant.”
“Yes.”
“Then you knew the risk.”
“I knew there was risk.”
My throat tightened.
“Grace died.”
He looked toward my father’s grave.
“So did my son.”
There it was.
The missing piece.
“What happened?”
“Ask your father.”
“He’s dead.”
“Exactly.”
Victor walked around the grave.
“Twenty-eight years ago, Richard Marlowe discovered I had bribed inspectors on a development. He exposed me.”
“He should have.”
“My business collapsed.”
“Also your fault.”
“My wife left. My son was thirteen.”
“That isn’t my father’s fault.”
“My son killed himself the following year.”
Silence filled the cemetery.
For one second, I understood his grief.
Then I understood what he had done with it.
“You blamed my father.”
“He destroyed my family.”
“No. You did.”
Victor’s eyes hardened.
“You sound exactly like him.”
“Good.”
He stepped closer.
“I watched Richard grow rich from assets I lost.”
“He bought them legally.”
“He profited from my destruction.”
“And you spent decades telling yourself revenge was justice.”
His face twisted.
“You think money makes you untouchable.”
“No.”
I looked directly at him.
“I think money made you believe everyone could be bought.”
A distant rustle moved through the trees.
Agents.
Victor seemed not to notice.
Or maybe he did.
He reached into his coat.
My heartbeat slammed.
“Don’t.”
He removed an envelope.
Photographs.
He tossed them at my feet.
Rodrigo.
Meeting Victor.
Months earlier.
My lungs tightened.
“When were these taken?”
“Ask your husband.”
“Tell me.”
“He came to me.”
“When?”
“Three months before Grace died.”
I felt physically sick.
“What did he want?”
“Money.”
Of course.
“How much?”
“Five million.”
“For Sebastian’s debts?”
“Yes.”
“What did you ask in return?”
“A signature.”
“Mine.”
Victor smiled.
“Eventually.”
The world narrowed.
Rodrigo had claimed he didn’t understand.
Had claimed he was trapped.
Maybe the lie went deeper.
“Did Rodrigo know about the medication?”
Victor studied me.
Then said:
“He knew we needed you compliant.”
Not sick.
Not poisoned.
Compliant.
It was deliberately ambiguous.
I understood why.
Victor wanted to destroy whatever remained between us.
“Did he know specifically that Mayhew was drugging me?”
Victor smiled again.
“You’ll have to ask him.”
Then he looked toward the darkness.
“You brought them.”
“You expected otherwise?”
“I expected your father’s daughter to be braver.”
“I expected a billionaire mastermind to be less predictable.”
That angered him.
Good.
“Your company is finished,” I said. “Your partners are cooperating. Sebastian is cooperating. Mayhew is cooperating.”
“Cowards.”
“Survivors.”
“You think prison frightens me?”
“No. I think irrelevance does.”
His face changed.
There.
The wound.
“You wanted my father to know your name forever,” I continued. “He didn’t. He moved on. He raised me. Built a company. Lived.”
Victor stepped closer.
“He died young.”
“Yes.”
“And you will too.”
He reached into his coat again.
This time the gun appeared.
Agents shouted.
Everything happened at once.
Victor grabbed me.
Gun against my ribs.
“Back!” he screamed.
Red laser dots appeared across his chest.
He dragged me toward a black SUV parked behind the mausoleum.
“Tell them to lower their weapons!”
I could hear Daniel through the hidden earpiece telling me not to fight.
Then another voice shouted from the cemetery entrance.
“Victor!”
Rodrigo.
I nearly screamed.
He stepped into view with both hands raised.
“What are you doing here?” Victor demanded.
“Let her go.”
“You always were weak.”
“Maybe.”
Rodrigo walked closer.
“You needed me weak.”
“Stop!” an agent ordered.
Rodrigo ignored him.
Victor’s gun shifted slightly.
Toward Rodrigo.
That was all the opening needed.
I drove my elbow backward.
Victor fired.
The gunshot tore through the cemetery.
Rodrigo collapsed.
Agents rushed forward.
Victor hit the ground.
Handcuffs.
Shouting.
Blood.
I ran to Rodrigo.
The bullet had struck his shoulder.
Not his chest.
He was conscious.
Barely.
“Elena.”
“Don’t talk.”
“I knew.”
My blood froze.
“What?”
Tears filled his eyes.
“I knew Mayhew was giving you something.”
Everything stopped.
“You said you didn’t.”
“I didn’t know what.”
“Rodrigo…”
“I thought it was anxiety medication. Mom said it would make you rest.”
I pulled my hand away from him.
He saw it.
And somehow his pain became greater than the bullet wound.
“I’m sorry.”
Paramedics surrounded him.
I stood.
Victor Soren was pushed into an armored vehicle.
For twenty-eight years, he had believed grief entitled him to destroy someone else.
Now he was finally leaving in handcuffs.
But I couldn’t feel relief.
Because Rodrigo had just admitted the one thing I had desperately hoped wasn’t true.
He had known someone was secretly medicating me.
May you like
He simply hadn’t cared enough to stop it.
And whatever survived between us died there beside my father’s grave.
