Chapter 5
I went to the warehouse.
Not alone.
I told Daniel I would.
Then I made him stay two blocks away.
He hated it.
I didn’t care.
Before getting out of the car, I sent my location to Dad.
Then I looked at Daniel.
“If I don’t come out in ten minutes—”
“I’m coming in after five.”
“Daniel.”
“Three.”
I almost smiled.
“Fine.”
The warehouse looked abandoned.
Broken windows.
Rust on the doors.
No cars outside.
I pushed through the side entrance.
“Claire?”
My voice echoed.
Nothing.
I walked deeper.
A single overhead light flickered on.
Claire sat beneath it.
She wasn’t tied up.
She wasn’t injured.
The man from the photograph stood beside her.
He smiled when he saw me.
“Ethan.”
I stopped.
Claire stood.
“I’m okay.”
I looked at her.
“Why weren’t you answering?”
“My phone was taken.”
“Taken?”
She glanced at Marcus.
He didn’t look embarrassed.
“You scared him,” Claire said.
Marcus smiled slightly.
“I needed his attention.”
“You threatened my girlfriend.”
“I never threatened her.”
“You sent me a picture like she’d been kidnapped.”
“She came willingly.”
I looked at Claire.
She nodded.
“Why?”
Her eyes filled with guilt.
“I met him three weeks ago.”
The floor seemed to move.
“Three weeks?”
“He contacted me.”
“And you didn’t tell me?”
“I was going to.”
“When?”
“I didn’t know if he was telling the truth.”
Marcus stepped forward.
“He didn’t want to believe it.”
I turned on him.
“Don’t talk about me like you know me.”
His smile disappeared.
“I know more about you than Richard ever wanted me to.”
“Then start explaining.”
He studied me.
I hated how familiar his expressions felt.
The tilt of his head.
The way he held one shoulder slightly higher.
I did the same thing.
Marcus walked toward an old table.
There were photographs spread across it.
My mother.
Young.
Maybe twenty-three.
Laughing beside him.
Another photo.
Mom pregnant.
Marcus standing behind her with both hands around her stomach.
My throat tightened.
“That’s fake.”
“It isn’t.”
I picked it up.
On the back, in Mom’s handwriting:
Three months until we meet our little troublemaker.
My hands shook.
Marcus watched me.
“She loved you before you were born.”
“Apparently not enough to tell me you were alive.”
His jaw tightened.
“She thought she was protecting you.”
“That seems to be everyone’s favorite excuse.”
Claire stepped closer.
“Ethan.”
I moved away from her.
“You knew for three weeks.”
“I knew what he claimed.”
“You met him without telling me.”
“I wanted proof.”
“And did you find it?”
Marcus reached into his coat.
I tensed.
He pulled out an envelope.
“DNA test.”
I stared at it.
Claire whispered, “I used your toothbrush.”
I looked at her.
She started crying.
“I’m sorry.”
“You took my DNA?”
“I needed to know whether he was lying before I destroyed your life.”
“You made that choice for me.”
“I know.”
“No, you don’t.”
Marcus placed the envelope down.
“99.99 percent.”
I didn’t touch it.
“Did you steal from Harrison Jewelers?”
His expression changed.
Claire looked at him.
“What?”
I continued.
“Two million dollars is missing. Fake transactions were created using my mother’s maiden name.”
Marcus stared at me.
Then laughed.
It wasn’t a happy laugh.
“Richard still hasn’t figured it out.”
“Figured what out?”
“That money wasn’t stolen from him.”
“What does that mean?”
Marcus stepped closer.
“It was mine.”
I stared at him.
“You’re insane.”
“Ask Richard where the first Harrison store came from.”
“My grandfather started it.”
“No.”
His eyes hardened.
“That’s the family fairy tale.”
I said nothing.
Marcus pointed at my mother’s photographs.
“Your mother and I had money.”
“From stealing?”
His jaw tightened.
“I made mistakes.”
“That isn’t an answer.”
“I moved money for people.”
“Criminals.”
“Yes.”
Claire looked shocked.
Marcus continued.
“I wanted out. Margaret wanted out. We had saved enough to disappear.”
“Then what?”
“I was arrested.”
“You were supposedly killed.”
“Because Richard helped Margaret make me disappear.”
I frowned.
Marcus laughed bitterly.
“Not physically. Legally.”
He walked around the table.
“While I was in prison overseas, Richard convinced her I’d never come back.”
“Were you in prison?”
“Yes.”
“For how long?”
“Eight years.”
My stomach turned.
“When you returned, I was eight?”
“Nine.”
Daniel had said Marcus came back when I was seventeen.
Another lie.
“You saw me?”
Marcus’s eyes softened.
“From a distance.”
I stepped closer.
“How many times?”
“Enough.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“Birthdays. School events. Baseball games.”
I remembered a man sometimes standing near the far fence at my Little League field.
A memory so faint I had almost forgotten it.
Gray cap.
Sunglasses.
Always alone.
I stared at Marcus.
“No.”
He looked almost sad.
“You used to bite the inside of your cheek before every pitch.”
My stomach dropped.
Nobody knew that.
Not even Claire.
Marcus continued.
“You hated playing shortstop. You wanted third base because your favorite player played third.”
“Stop.”
“You cried after your first home run because Margaret missed it.”
“Stop.”
“Richard bought you ice cream and told you she’d see the next one.”
“Stop!”
My shout echoed through the warehouse.
Marcus went silent.
My chest hurt.
“You were there?”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t you come to me?”
“Because Richard had people watching.”
I shook my head.
“No.”
“And because I was still dangerous.”
“At least you admit that.”
“I never said I was a good man.”
“Then why should I trust you?”
“You shouldn’t.”
That answer surprised me.
Marcus stepped closer.
“You should verify everything.”
I looked at the photographs again.
“The money.”
His face hardened.
“Richard built part of his empire using money that belonged to Margaret and me.”
“That doesn’t make stealing from thousands of employees okay.”
“I didn’t steal the two million.”
“Then who did?”
He looked toward the dark side of the warehouse.
“Your sister.”
I laughed.
“No.”
Marcus didn’t.
“Angela has been moving money for almost two years.”
“You’re lying.”
“She found out the truth about where the Harrison fortune started.”
“And?”
“She thought Richard should pay.”
“Why would Angela care about you?”
Marcus gave me a strange look.
“She doesn’t.”
“Then why?”
His answer came quietly.
“Because Angela isn’t Richard’s daughter either.”
I stared at him.
“What?”
Claire covered her mouth.
Marcus continued.
“She’s mine.”
I shook my head.
“No.”
“Yes.”
“No.”
“You and Angela are full brother and sister.”
“That’s impossible.”
“It isn’t.”
“She’s six years older than me.”
“Yes.”
“Mom was married to Dad.”
Marcus’s expression became painful.
“Margaret and I never completely ended.”
I felt sick.
“Don’t.”
“You asked for the truth.”
“My mother cheated on Richard?”
“Yes.”
I walked away from him.
Every memory I had was becoming contaminated.
Dad holding Mom’s hand during chemotherapy.
Dad sleeping in the chair beside her hospital bed.
Dad speaking at her funeral and breaking down halfway through.
Had he known?
Had he known Angela wasn’t his?
Had he known I wasn’t his?
Marcus said, “Richard knew about Angela.”
I turned.
“How?”
“He found a letter after she was born.”
“And he stayed?”
“Yes.”
“He raised her anyway?”
“Yes.”
Marcus looked almost angry about it.
“He raised both of you.”
There was jealousy in his voice.
For the first time, I understood something.
Marcus didn’t just hate Richard because of money.
He hated him because Richard had lived the life Marcus believed should have been his.
I looked at him.
“So Angela knows you’re her father.”
“Yes.”
“How long?”
“Two years.”
The theft started eighteen months ago.
My stomach tightened.
“You’re using her.”
Marcus’s eyes flashed.
“No.”
“You tell her Dad stole your money, tell her he lied about you, then suddenly millions start disappearing?”
“I didn’t tell her to steal.”
“But you took it.”
Silence.
That was enough.
I stepped backward.
“You’re exactly what they warned me about.”
His face hardened.
“Richard is not innocent.”
“Maybe not.”
I pointed at Claire.
“But he never used someone I loved as bait.”
Marcus looked toward her.
“She was never in danger.”
“You made sure I thought she was.”
A noise came from behind us.
Metal scraping.
Marcus looked toward the entrance.
His expression changed.
“Did you come alone?”
I didn’t answer.
“Ethan.”
Three men stepped out from the shadows.
Not Daniel.
Not security.
One held a gun.
Claire screamed.
Marcus shoved me down.
The gunshot exploded through the warehouse.
Glass shattered above us.
Marcus grabbed Claire and dragged her behind a concrete pillar.
I crawled after them.
Another shot.
Then another.
“Who are they?” I shouted.
Marcus pulled a pistol from behind his back.
“The people I told you I used to work for.”
“You brought them here?”
“No.”
A bullet struck the pillar.
Dust filled the air.
May you like
Marcus looked at me.
“They followed you.”
