Chapter 7 - Six HoursThe hospital was evacuated within twelve minutes.
“Is Evelyn alive?”
Detective Morgan stared at her.
“Yes.”
Vanessa closed her eyes.
“And the baby?”
“Alive.”
A tear slid into her hair.
Morgan did not offer comfort.
“You’re still facing serious charges.”
“I know.”
“Assault on a pregnant woman. Conspiracy. Potential financial crimes.”
“I know.”
“Then start helping yourself.”
Vanessa looked at the ceiling.
“Grant found me two years ago.”
Her story unfolded slowly.
After her family’s investment firm collapsed, Vanessa had secretly accumulated nearly four million dollars in debt.
She hid it from everyone.
Including Daniel.
Grant discovered it.
Then saved her.
Or appeared to.
He paid creditors through companies Vanessa never questioned.
In return, he asked favors.
Attend this party.
Repeat this rumor.
Make Evelyn jealous.
Convince Daniel his wife was uncomfortable in high society.
“The goal was to break them up?”
“At first.”
“Why?”
“Grant said Evelyn made Daniel weak.”
Vanessa laughed bitterly.
“I wanted to believe that because I hated her.”
“Why?”
“Because she had everything I thought I deserved.”
Morgan remained silent.
Vanessa wiped a tear.
“She was nice to me.”
That seemed to hurt most.
“She always remembered my birthday. She invited me to dinner when she knew I was alone. When my mother got sick, Evelyn called every week.”
“And you attacked her.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because hatred is easier when you stop remembering someone is human.”
Morgan let that sit.
“What happened in the suite?”
“Grant called.”
“He told you Evelyn discovered Ashbury?”
“Yes.”
“What were your instructions?”
“Scare her. Convince her to drop the audit.”
“But you kicked her.”
Vanessa’s face collapsed.
“She said Daniel had never loved me.”
Morgan waited.
“I lost control.”
“And then Grant told you to finish it.”
Vanessa cried openly now.
“Yes.”
“What did you think that meant?”
“Kill her.”
Morgan’s voice sharpened.
“And?”
“I couldn’t.”
For all Vanessa’s crimes, that decision may have saved Evelyn.
Vanessa had stepped back.
Daniel arrived seconds later.
“Who deleted the camera footage?”
“Grant.”
“Marcus Bell?”
“I don’t know.”
“Charles?”
“I don’t know.”
Morgan leaned closer.
“Where is Grant?”
Vanessa stared at her.
“You won’t catch him by chasing him.”
“Then how?”
“Give him what he wants.”
“Daniel?”
“No.”
Vanessa’s eyes hardened.
“The Cross name.”
Across Manhattan, Daniel was discovering that his father had vanished.
Charles’s apartment was empty.
Phone off.
Driver missing.
Private offices abandoned.
Then Daniel remembered something.
A house in Westchester.
His mother’s old property.
Charles claimed he sold it years ago.
Daniel checked records.
He hadn’t.
An LLC owned it.
Ashbury Holdings.
Daniel nearly laughed at the arrogance.
He and Morgan drove north.
Evelyn remained hospitalized under heavy protection.
Daniel hated leaving her.
She had insisted.
“If Charles is in danger, go.”
“If he’s guilty?”
“Then bring him back alive to answer for it.”
The house looked frozen in time.
White colonial exterior.
Blue shutters.
Daniel remembered summers there before his parents’ marriage deteriorated.
Morgan entered first.
No alarm.
The front door was unlocked.
“Dad?”
Nothing.
Daniel walked through rooms filled with covered furniture.
In his mother’s study, a lamp glowed.
Charles sat at the desk.
A pistol lay in front of him.
Morgan immediately drew her weapon.
“Move your hands away from the gun.”
Charles obeyed.
Daniel looked at him.
“Did you kill Marcus Bell?”
Charles laughed softly.
“No hello?”
“Did you?”
“No.”
“Your cuff link was under his body.”
“Yes.”
“You lied about finding him dead.”
“Yes.”
Morgan stepped closer.
“Mr. Cross, choose your next words carefully.”
Charles nodded.
“When I reached the garage, Marcus was alive.”
Daniel stared.
“He told me Grant had accessed surveillance controls. He had evidence.”
“What happened?”
“Someone fired from behind a vehicle.”
Charles touched the bandage on his arm.
“I went down. Marcus ran.”
“And?”
“The attacker caught him.”
“Who?”
“I couldn’t see.”
“Then how did your cuff link get there?”
“I tried to pull the attacker off him.”
Daniel studied him.
“You fought the killer?”
“Yes.”
“Why lie?”
Charles looked ashamed.
“Because Marcus told me why Grant was doing this.”
“Jonathan.”
“Yes.”
“And?”
Charles stood slowly.
Morgan kept her gun trained.
Charles looked at his son.
“Jonathan didn’t die from alcohol.”
Daniel frowned.
“You said—”
“I lied.”
“What happened?”
Charles’s face crumpled with forty years of buried guilt.
“My father had Jonathan committed.”
Evelyn had once told Daniel secrets were like untreated wounds.
Covering them didn’t stop infection.
Charles finally opened his.
Jonathan had threatened to expose illegal financial practices committed by their father.
Rather than allow scandal, the family patriarch arranged for Jonathan to be placed in a private psychiatric institution.
No legitimate diagnosis.
No trial.
Money did the work.
“I knew,” Charles whispered.
“You knew they imprisoned your brother?”
“I was told it would be temporary.”
“How long?”
“Three years.”
Daniel stared at him in horror.
“Three years?”
“When Jonathan got out, he was broken. He never forgave us.”
“You mean never forgave you.”
Charles nodded.
“He died five years later.”
“And Grant learned?”
“Apparently.”
Daniel turned away.
Suddenly Grant’s rage made terrible sense.
Not his crimes.
Never those.
But the rage.
Charles had benefited while Jonathan suffered.
“I spent decades pretending I had no brother because acknowledging him meant acknowledging what we did.”
Daniel looked back.
“What you did.”
“Yes.”
A window shattered.
Morgan shouted.
Daniel hit the floor.
A bullet buried itself in the wall where Charles had been standing.
“DOWN!”
More gunfire erupted.
Morgan returned fire.
A black SUV waited beyond the trees.
A masked shooter moved near it.
Daniel grabbed Charles and dragged him behind the desk.
“You led them here?”
Charles shook his head.
“No.”
Daniel suddenly understood.
The prepaid phone.
The anonymous messages.
Grant knew they would find this house.
Glass exploded.
Then the shooting stopped.
The SUV disappeared down the drive.
Morgan radioed for backup.
Charles stared at Daniel.
“Grant wants me alive.”
“Why?”
“To confess publicly.”
Daniel’s phone vibrated.
A live-stream link appeared.
Grant’s face filled the screen.
The broadcast had already reached thirty thousand viewers.
Within seconds it passed fifty thousand.
“Good morning,” Grant said.
“My name is Grant Jonathan Cross.”
Daniel’s blood ran cold.
Grant continued.
“For nineteen years, the world knew me as Grant Holloway. Today, the Cross family will finally tell you who they really are.”
Then photographs of Jonathan appeared.
Hospital records.
Trust documents.
Financial transfers.
Everything.
Grant smiled into the camera.
“And tonight, Daniel Cross will choose.”
The screen changed.
A photograph of Evelyn appeared.
Taken less than ten minutes earlier.
Inside her guarded hospital room.
Daniel stopped breathing.
Grant’s voice continued.
“He can protect his family’s name.”
Another image.
This one showed a sniper’s view through Evelyn’s hospital window.
Crosshairs centered over her bed.
“Or he can protect his wife.”
Daniel’s hands began shaking.
May you like
Grant smiled.
“Daniel, you have six hours.”
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