PART 4
“He was murdered.”
The words hung in the ballroom.
Nobody moved.
Nobody breathed.
For fifteen years, I had believed my father died from a heart attack.
I had been seventeen when it happened.
I remembered the phone call.
I remembered my mother collapsing.
I remembered my brothers surrounding me while someone told me that our father was gone.
I remembered the funeral.
The black dresses.
The flowers.
The endless stream of people telling us how sorry they were.
And I remembered my uncle disappearing shortly afterward.
Everyone had told me he couldn’t handle the grief.
Everyone had told me he had left the country.
Everyone had told me there was nothing more to know.
But now he stood in front of me.
Alive.
And telling me everything I believed about my father’s death was a lie.
I looked at the briefcase in his hand.
“What’s inside?”
My uncle didn’t answer immediately.
Instead, he looked toward Arthur Vance.
Arthur’s face had become completely expressionless.
That was when I realized something.
Arthur wasn’t surprised to see my uncle.
He was afraid of him.
“You knew,” I whispered.
Arthur looked at me.
“I didn’t—”
“You knew.”
My voice was louder this time.
“You knew he was alive.”
Arthur remained silent.
My uncle slowly placed the briefcase on the table.
“I was supposed to bring this to you years ago.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“Because I was afraid.”
The answer shocked me.
My uncle looked at my five brothers.
“Your father discovered that several people inside his company were stealing money. Millions.”
Marcus immediately stepped forward.
“How much?”
“More than three hundred million dollars over several years.”
Marcus’s expression changed.
“And he discovered who was responsible?”
My uncle nodded.
“Arthur Vance.”
The ballroom erupted in whispers.
Arthur suddenly shouted, “That’s a lie!”
My uncle didn’t even look at him.
“Your father confronted Arthur.”
Arthur’s hands began trembling.
“He threatened to expose him.”
Isaac looked at his father.
“Dad…”
Arthur turned toward him.
“Don’t.”
But Isaac didn’t listen.
“Is it true?”
Arthur stared at his son.
For several seconds, neither spoke.
Then Arthur lowered his eyes.
That was enough.
Isaac stepped backward.
“My God.”
I looked at my uncle.
“And my father was murdered because of it?”
My uncle nodded.
“But Arthur wasn’t alone.”
I felt my stomach tighten.
“Who else?”
My uncle opened the briefcase.
Inside were documents.
Photographs.
Bank records.
A small black notebook.
And a sealed envelope.
He picked up the envelope.
“This was written by your father.”
He handed it to me.
My hands trembled as I opened it.
The handwriting was unmistakable.
My father’s handwriting.
Flora,
If you are reading this, then something has happened to me.
My eyes blurred.
I kept reading.
I need you to understand one thing. None of this is your fault.
A tear fell onto the paper.
Your brothers will protect you. Trust them. But there is one person you must never trust.
I stopped.
My eyes moved to the final line.
The person closest to you is not always the person standing beside you.
I slowly lowered the letter.
My eyes moved toward Isaac.
He looked away.
I whispered, “You knew.”
Isaac shook his head.
“I didn’t know he was going to kill your father.”
“But you knew about the money.”
Silence.
“You knew about my inheritance.”
Silence.
“You knew my uncle was alive.”
His eyes filled with tears.
“I knew.”
Something inside me went completely numb.
“How long have you been planning to take my father’s assets?”
Isaac swallowed.
“Flora…”
“How long?”
“Six months.”
I laughed.
It wasn’t a happy laugh.
It was the kind of laugh that comes when something hurts so badly that crying no longer feels sufficient.
“So the birthday party…”
Isaac didn’t answer.
“The affair…”
Nothing.
“The humiliation…”
He looked at me.
“I wanted you to sign the papers.”
I stared at him.
“You tied me to a ceiling beam and whipped me thirty times because you wanted me to sign documents?”
“I lost control.”
“No.”
I shook my head.
“You didn’t lose control.”
I stepped closer.
“You exercised it.”
Isaac’s face collapsed.
“I loved you.”
“No.”
My voice was quiet.
“You loved what I owned.”
He started crying.
For the first time, I saw the man beneath the arrogance.
But I felt nothing.
No sympathy.
No love.
Only exhaustion.
Then Julian stepped forward.
“Flora.”
I looked at him.
“The police are outside.”
Isaac’s head snapped toward him.
“What?”
Julian nodded toward the doors.
“They’ve been waiting.”
Arthur immediately shouted, “You can’t arrest me!”
Julian smiled.
“They’re not here because of tonight.”
He opened his folder.
“They’re here because of fifteen years of evidence.”
The ballroom doors opened.
Several investigators entered.
Behind them were uniformed officers.
Arthur began backing away.
“No.”
One officer approached him.
“Arthur Vance, you’re under arrest.”
Wendy screamed.
“You can’t do this!”
The officer continued reading the charges.
Fraud.
Embezzlement.
Money laundering.
Conspiracy.
Witness intimidation.
And involvement in the murder of Richard Sterling.
My father’s name.
Hearing it spoken aloud after fifteen years felt like someone had finally opened a locked room inside my heart.
Arthur was handcuffed.
But before they took him away, he looked at Isaac.
“You’re going down too.”
Isaac stared at his father.
“What?”
Arthur laughed bitterly.
“You think they’ll protect you?”
Isaac’s face turned white.
“I didn’t kill anyone.”
“No.”
Julian interrupted.
“But you helped hide the evidence.”
Isaac looked at me.
“Flora, please.”
I didn’t answer.
The police approached him.
He didn’t resist.
As they handcuffed him, Clover suddenly ran toward the exit.
Caleb stepped aside and let her pass.
She stopped.
Everyone stared at her.
Clover looked at me.
“I never wanted this.”
I looked at her.
“You wanted my husband.”
She began crying.
“I didn’t know what he was doing.”
“You knew enough.”
She lowered her eyes.
Then she whispered something I didn’t expect.
“I have something for you.”
She reached into her purse.
She pulled out a small USB drive.
Marcus immediately stepped forward.
“What is it?”
“Everything Isaac sent me.”
She handed it to him.
“Messages. Financial records. Copies of the contracts.”
Marcus took it.
Clover looked at me.
“I know you hate me.”
I shook my head.
“I don’t hate you.”
She looked surprised.
“I just don’t want anything to do with you.”
She nodded.
Then she walked away.
One by one, the ballroom emptied.
The guests left silently.
The champagne glasses remained untouched.
The birthday cake sat beneath the chandelier.
Thirty-four candles had been placed around it.
Most had burned down completely.
I stared at them.
This was supposed to be my birthday.
Instead, it had become the night my entire life changed.
Noah walked toward me.
“You don’t have to stay here.”
I looked at him.
“Where do I go?”
He smiled gently.
“Home.”
I almost laughed.
“Where is home?”
Leo stepped beside him.
“With us.”
Julian nodded.
“Always.”
Marcus added, “We’ve got everything handled.”
Caleb put his hand on my shoulder.
“You’re not alone anymore.”
I looked at my brothers.
For years, I had tried to protect them from my problems.
I had hidden my pain.
I had defended Isaac.
I had told them my marriage was fine.
I had lied because I was ashamed.
But standing there, surrounded by the five people who had known me since childhood, I finally understood something.
I had never needed to be ashamed.
I had simply been surrounded by the wrong people.
I turned toward my uncle.
“And you?”
He looked down.
“I owe you fifteen years.”
“Yes.”
He nodded.
“I know.”
I walked toward him.
For a moment, neither of us moved.
Then I hugged him.
He broke down in my arms.
“I am so sorry, Flora.”
I closed my eyes.
“I wish you had come home sooner.”
“I know.”
We stood there quietly.
Then Marcus suddenly spoke.
“There is one more thing.”
Everyone turned.
He held up the black notebook.
“This wasn’t about the Vances.”
“What do you mean?”
Marcus opened it.
Inside were names.
Companies.
Bank accounts.
Dates.
