Chapter 5: The Dead Man at the Gate
Victor stared at the recovered image until his eyes hurt.
His father was dead.
Victor had stood beside the coffin.
He had watched the polished mahogany box descend into the ground.
Yet five years ago—six months after that funeral—Alexander Blackwood appeared to have been standing beside Elise's car.
“Tell me that's not him,” Victor said.
Daniel enlarged the frame.
The image distorted slightly, but the face remained recognizable.
Gray hair.
Heavy eyebrows.
The small scar beside his left eye from a childhood riding accident.
Grace crossed herself.
“I saw someone outside that night.””
Victor turned.
“You never mentioned that.””
“I only saw a silhouette from upstairs. I thought it was security.””
“Was it my father?””
“I don't know.””
Daniel studied the image.
“We shouldn't assume the timestamp is accurate.””
Victor looked at him.
“Verify it.””
Daniel checked the archived metadata against the gate logs.
Minutes passed.
No one spoke.
Finally, Daniel leaned back.
“The timestamp matches.””
Victor felt the room tilt.
“That doesn't make sense.””
His phone rang.
His younger sister, Evelyn.
Victor answered immediately.
“Victor?””
Her voice sounded strained.
“Where are you?””
“At the hospital.””
“Is Noah okay?””
“He will be.””
A pause.
“What's wrong?””
Victor looked at the image.
“Evelyn, when Dad died, did you see his body?””
Silence.
“What kind of question is that?””
“Answer me.””
“No.””
Victor's chest tightened.
“Why not?””
“Mother said it would be better to remember him alive.””
“Did you attend the identification?””
“No. You did.””
Victor closed his eyes.
Except he hadn't.
His mother had identified Alexander after the reported heart attack at their country estate.
Victor had arrived the following morning.
The coffin had already been sealed because, according to the funeral director, Alexander's body had deteriorated unexpectedly after an embalming complication.
At the time, grief had made the explanation sound unfortunate.
Now it sounded convenient.
“Victor,” Evelyn said, “you're scaring me.””
“Dad may not have died when we were told he did.””
Evelyn laughed once.
Then stopped.
“What?””
Victor sent her the recovered image.
He heard her phone vibrate.
Then nothing.
“Evelyn?””
“Oh my God.””
“You recognize him?””
“Of course I recognize him.””
Her voice became a whisper.
“But there's something else.””
“What?””
“The coat.””
Victor looked at the photograph again.
Alexander wore a dark wool overcoat.
“So?””
“Dad hated that coat.””
Victor frowned.
“He wore it constantly.””
“Not after Mother gave it away.””
“When?””
“The Christmas before he died.””
Victor stared at the image.
“Are you certain?””
“Yes. They had a huge argument because she donated it without asking.””
Daniel was listening now.
Victor asked, “Who received it?””
“I don't know. Some charity.””
Victor's gaze hardened.
So either Alexander had recovered the coat—
or the man in the image wanted to look like Alexander.
“Evelyn, don't tell anyone about this.””
“Victor, what's happening?””
“I don't know yet.””
He ended the call.
Daniel enlarged the figure's left hand.
“No wedding ring.””
Victor leaned closer.
Alexander had never removed his wedding band.
Not once.
“It's not him,” Victor said.
Grace whispered, “Then who is it?””
Victor's phone buzzed.
A message from Serena.
*Now you're finally asking the right questions.*
Victor typed back.
*Who was dressed as my father?*
The typing indicator appeared.
Disappeared.
Returned.
Then:
*Find the blue envelope.*
Victor stared at the words.
Grace stood abruptly.
“Elise mentioned a blue envelope.””
“I remember.””
“But maybe she wasn't telling me to find it.””
Victor looked at her.
“What do you mean?””
Grace's face changed as a memory surfaced.
“She said, ‘If anything happens, blue envelope. Victor's father—’”
“And?””
“That was when the doorbell rang.””
Victor's pulse accelerated.
“Victor's father what?””
“I don't know.””
Daniel closed the laptop.
“We need to search the mansion.””
Victor looked through the glass toward Noah's room.
He didn't want to leave his son.
But if Serena had returned to the cemetery, she might be searching for the same thing.
“Send a team,” Victor said.
Daniel shook his head.
“If Elise hid something five years ago, ordinary security won't know where to look.””
Grace suddenly whispered, “I might.””
Victor turned.
“Elise had a place.””
“What place?””
“A hidden compartment in Noah's nursery.””
Victor frowned.
“Noah didn't have a nursery before he was born?””
“She prepared it while she was pregnant.””
Grace explained that Elise had commissioned a custom window seat beneath the nursery's bay window. One panel could be removed.
“She kept Noah's first ultrasound pictures there,” Grace said.
“Letters. Personal things.””
“Why wasn't it searched?””
“Because nobody knew.””
Victor looked at Daniel.
“Stay with Noah.””
“Victor—”
“I'm going.””
Grace rose.
“So am I.””
Forty minutes later, Victor entered his mansion again.
The sitting room still carried the evidence of what had happened earlier.
A small wooden toy lay near the marble floor.
Victor couldn't look at it for long.
He and Grace climbed upstairs.
The nursery had been converted into Noah's bedroom years ago, but the white window seat remained.
Grace knelt beside it.
“There.””
She pressed beneath the molding.
Nothing.
Again.
A faint click.
The panel opened.
Victor reached inside.
Baby photographs.
A hospital bracelet.
Letters tied with ribbon.
Then his fingers touched paper.
Blue paper.
An envelope.
Across the front, in Elise's handwriting, were three words.
*FOR VICTOR ONLY.*
His hands trembled as he opened it.
Inside was a photocopy of a legal document.
A handwritten note rested on top.
Victor recognized Elise's writing immediately.
*Victor, if you're reading this, someone stopped me from telling you. Do not trust the will your mother showed you. Your father changed everything before he died. Serena knows why.*
Victor read it twice.
Then he unfolded the document beneath it.
Alexander Blackwood's second will.
The first page contained a date.
Three days before his supposed death.
Victor scanned the clauses.
Then stopped.
Grace watched his face.
“What does it say?””
Victor couldn't answer.
His father's fortune had not been left entirely to Victor.
A controlling share of Blackwood Holdings had been placed in trust for a future grandchild.
Noah.
And if Victor died before Noah turned twenty-five, control of the trust would pass temporarily to Noah's legal guardian.
Victor heard footsteps behind them.
He turned.
His mother, Margaret Blackwood, stood in the doorway.
Her face was white.
Her eyes were fixed on the blue envelope.
May you like
“Victor,” she whispered.
“You were never supposed to find that.””
