“No.”
Daniel nodded.
“Yes.”
“No.”
“He believes Brandon betrayed him.”
My son stepped backward.
“That doesn’t make sense.”
Daniel looked at him.
“Your father believes you stole the company from him.”
“I built that company.”
“That’s not what he believes.”
Brandon’s face twisted with disbelief.
“And Victoria?”
“She was supposed to marry you, wait until you transferred control, then remove you.”
I whispered:
“And Arthur?”
Daniel looked directly at me.
“Arthur was supposed to inherit everything after Brandon died.”
I felt something inside me break.
For three years I had mourned my husband.
For three years I had believed I lost him.
And now I was being told that the man I loved had orchestrated the death of our only child.
Brandon came toward me.
“Mom.”
I shook my head.
“No.”
He gently held my shoulders.
“Mom, look at me.”
I did.
“I don’t believe it.”
Neither did I.
But there was one problem.
The photograph.
And then another thought entered my mind.
If Arthur was alive…
Why had he allowed me to believe he was dead?
Suddenly the laptop screen flickered.
The video stopped.
A new notification appeared.
One new file had been added to the drive.
None of us had touched the computer.
Frank stared at it.
“That’s impossible.”
The file name was simple.
ELEANOR.
My blood ran cold.
Brandon clicked it.
The screen went black.
Then a video began.
Arthur appeared.
Older.
Thinner.
But unmistakably my husband.
He looked directly into the camera.
And the first words out of his mouth were:
“Eleanor, if you’re watching this, Brandon has survived.”
I stopped breathing.
Arthur continued.
“And that means Victoria failed.”
Brandon whispered:
“Dad…”
Arthur looked exhausted.
Terrified.
Then he said:
“But there is something you must understand.”
He leaned closer to the camera.
“Victoria was never the person I was most afraid of.”
The video paused.
A second message appeared beneath it.
IF YOU WANT TO KNOW WHO ORDERED THE KILLING, GO TO THE OLD MILL BEFORE MIDNIGHT. COME ALONE.
I stared at the screen.
Frank immediately shook his head.
“Absolutely not.”
Brandon looked at me.
“We’re not going.”
But I was already looking toward the clock.
11:17 p.m.
We had less than forty-three minutes.
And somewhere in the darkness outside, someone knew my son was alive.
Someone knew my husband was alive.
And someone had just invited me to a place where one of them might finally tell me the truth.
Or where the last member of my family might die.
PART 5
The clock on the kitchen wall moved to 11:18.
Forty-two minutes.
That was all.
Frank immediately shook his head.
“No one is going to that mill.”
Brandon nodded.
“For once, I agree with him.”
I stared at the screen.
My husband’s face was frozen there.
Arthur.
Alive.
After three years of believing I had buried him.
I reached toward the laptop and touched the screen with trembling fingers.
“Your father knew this would happen.”
Brandon looked at me.
“Mom, that’s exactly why we’re not going.”
“He knew I would find this message.”
“Or someone wants us to believe he made it.”
I looked at him.
“You think the video is fake?”
“I don’t know.”
That was the terrifying part.
None of us knew what was real anymore.
Frank walked toward the window.
“There are still two vehicles outside.”
Brandon looked at him.
“Then we’re already being watched.”
Frank nodded.
“We need to get you somewhere safe.”
“No,” I said.
Both men turned toward me.
I picked up the gray folder.
“We’ve spent two days reacting to them.”
I opened it.
“Victoria called me because she thought I was powerless.”
I pulled out the bank statements.
“She sent men to my house because she thought I was frightened.”
I placed the corporate documents on the table.
“And someone sent this video because they believe I’ll follow instructions.”
I closed the folder.
“I’m done being afraid.”
Brandon stared at me.
“Mom.”
I looked into my son’s eyes.
“If your father is alive, I need to know why.”
“And if it’s a trap?”
“Then we make sure we’re not the ones walking into it blindly.”
Frank considered this.
Then he nodded.
“I know another way into the mill.”
Brandon looked at him.
“You’ve been there?”
“Years ago.”
“Why?”
Frank gave a tired smile.
“Because your father had secrets long before your wife did.”
That sentence followed us all the way to the car.
We left through the rear garage.
Frank drove.
Brandon sat in the back seat, still pale from his injuries.
I sat beside him, holding the folder against my chest.
Atlanta’s streets were nearly empty.
Streetlights passed across Brandon’s face.
He looked older than he had two days earlier.
Not physically.
Something inside him had changed.
He had lost the ability to believe that love automatically meant safety.
I placed my hand over his.
“Whatever we find tonight, you’re not alone.”
He squeezed my fingers.
“I know.”
After twenty minutes, Frank turned onto a narrow road surrounded by trees.
The old mill appeared in the distance.
It had been abandoned for years.
Its broken windows reflected the moonlight.
The building looked less like a place where someone would meet and more like a place where people disappeared.
Frank stopped the car.
“Nobody gets out yet.”
He checked his phone.
11:52.
Eight minutes until midnight.
Brandon looked at me.
“Mom, promise me something.”
“What?”
“If you see Dad, don’t run toward him.”
I frowned.
“Why?”
“Because we don’t know which version of him we’re going to meet.”
I didn’t answer.
Because part of me already knew.
The man I remembered might not exist anymore.
Frank finally opened the door.
“Stay behind me.”
We walked toward the mill.
The old wooden door creaked open before anyone touched it.
Brandon stopped.
Frank raised his hand.
“Someone’s inside.”
A light switched on.
One bulb.
Hanging from the ceiling.
And beneath it stood a man.
Thin.
Gray-haired.
Wearing a dark coat.
My breath disappeared.
“Arthur.”
He looked at me.
For three years I had imagined my husband’s face.
I had remembered his smile.
His voice.
The way he drank coffee every morning.
The way he kissed my forehead before leaving for work.
But the man standing in front of me looked like someone who had spent three years running from ghosts.
“Eleanor,” he whispered.
I wanted to run to him.
Instead, I stayed where I was.
Brandon stepped in front of me.
“Dad.”
Arthur looked at his son.
His eyes filled with tears.
“Brandon.”
“You’re alive.”
Arthur nodded.
“Yes.”
Brandon’s voice broke.
“Why?”
Arthur looked at him.
“Because I was afraid.”
“Of what?”
Arthur looked toward me.
“Of the people who killed me.”
I frowned.
“You weren’t killed.”
Arthur shook his head.
“I was supposed to be.”
He took a breath.
“Three years ago, I discovered someone inside the company had been stealing millions.”
Brandon listened.
“I thought it was Victoria.”
Arthur shook his head.
“It wasn’t.”
“Then who?”
Arthur looked at me.
“Your mother’s brother.”
I froze.
“My brother?”
I hadn’t spoken to my brother, Daniel, in eleven years.
Arthur continued.
“He had access to the company’s financial structure through an old investment partnership. He was laundering money through shell companies.”
Brandon stared.
“And Victoria?”
“She discovered what he was doing.”
Arthur lowered his head.
“She wasn’t his partner at first. She became his partner later.”
“Then why marry me?”
“Because of your shares.”
Arthur looked at Brandon.
“And because they needed someone they could control.”
Brandon’s jaw tightened.
“So you knew?”
“I discovered it too late.”
Arthur’s voice cracked.
“By the time I understood what was happening, they had already arranged my death.”
I stared at him.
“What about your funeral?”
“They used a body that had been badly burned.”
My knees weakened.
“They told you it was me.”
Arthur nodded.
“They threatened your life if I contacted you.”
I felt tears burning my eyes.
“You let me mourn you.”
“I had no choice.”
“You always had a choice.”
Arthur looked at me.
