Chapter 5: The Man Who Was Supposed to Be Dead
“My father did.””
The words hit harder than anything that had happened inside the cathedral.
I stared at the elderly man in the doorway.
Samuel Walker looked nothing like the uncle I might have imagined as a child.
His gray hair was thin. A scar disappeared beneath his collar. One hand trembled against the doorframe as if standing there required more strength than he wanted us to see.
Dante moved first.
“You’re dead.””
Samuel gave him a tired look.
“That was the idea.””
Dante crossed the room.
“Twenty-seven years.””
“I know.””
“You let us bury an empty coffin.””
Samuel’s eyes dropped.
“I know.””
Dante grabbed the front of Samuel’s jacket.
Marco immediately stepped forward.
I did too.
“Stop.””
Dante looked at me.
“Let him talk.””
For several seconds, Dante’s hands remained clenched.
Then he released Samuel.
I could barely form the question.
“You said my father died here.””
Samuel looked at me.
“What did they tell you his name was?””
“Michael Walker.””
Pain crossed his face.
“Michael was my younger brother.””
My knees weakened.
I sat on the edge of the old bed.
“How?””
Samuel looked toward the open metal box.
“The answer is probably in there.””
“No.””
My voice came out sharper than I expected.
“Don’t point at another box. Don’t give me another mystery. Tell me what happened.””
Samuel nodded slowly.
“Your mother discovered the Whitmores were draining her trust through shell companies. Michael helped her collect evidence.””
“My father knew?””
“He knew everything.””
“Then why didn’t they go to the police?””
Samuel laughed bitterly.
“They tried.””
Dante’s expression changed.
Samuel looked at him.
“You really never knew?””
“Knew what?””
“Your father stopped them.””
The room went silent.
Dante stared at Samuel.
“My father was trying to find Isabella.””
“Your father was trying to contain a scandal.””
“That’s a lie.””
“I was standing here when he said it.””
Dante stepped toward him again.
Samuel didn’t move.
“Your father cared about Isabella,” Samuel continued.
“But he cared about the Moretti empire more.””
Dante’s jaw tightened.
“What happened that night?””
Samuel looked toward the broken lamp.
“Michael came here with copies of the financial records. Isabella was supposed to meet him.””
I could see it as he spoke.
My father.
Young.
Terrified.
Waiting in this room with evidence powerful men wanted destroyed.
“Did she come?””
“No. Charles did.””
I looked up.
“Charles Whitmore?””
Samuel nodded.
“He said he wanted to help.””
Dante scoffed.
“Did you believe him?””
“Michael did.””
“And you?””
“No.””
Samuel walked toward the window.
“I came here because Michael called me. When I arrived, Charles and Michael were arguing.””
“About what?””
“A ledger.””
My eyes went to the leather book on the desk.
Samuel followed my gaze.
“That ledger.””
Marco picked it up.
Samuel nodded.
“Charles wanted Michael to give it to him. Michael refused.””
My mouth went dry.
“Then what?””
Samuel looked at me.
“A fourth person entered.””
“Who?””
Before he answered, Marco’s phone rang.
He checked it.
“Dante.””
“What?””
“Another vehicle just passed the gate.””
Samuel went pale.
“You were followed?””
“I wasn’t.””
Dante looked at Marco.
“Lock the house.””
Marco moved into the hallway.
Samuel grabbed my arm.
“We don’t have time.””
I pulled away.
“You’ve had twenty-seven years.””
“Emma—”
“Who entered this room?””
His eyes filled with shame.
“Margaret.””
I stopped breathing.
“Nathan’s mother?””
“She wasn’t Nathan’s mother yet. She and Charles were engaged.””
Dante picked up the ledger.
“What did she want?””
“The same thing everyone wanted.””
Samuel pointed at it.
“Control.””
A door slammed somewhere downstairs.
Dante immediately moved in front of me.
Marco shouted from the corridor.
“Two men at the east entrance.””
Samuel turned toward the metal box.
“The tape.””
“What?””
“Play the cassette.””
“There’s no player.””
“There is.””
He crossed to the wardrobe and reached behind several hanging coats.
His hand emerged with an old portable cassette recorder.
“You left that here?””
“No.””
Samuel stared at it.
“Michael did.””
Dante inserted the cassette.
The machine clicked.
Static filled the room.
Then a man’s voice.
My father.
“If anything happens to me, Charles Whitmore knows the truth.””
My hands flew to my mouth.
Another voice answered.
Charles.
“Michael, give me the ledger.””
“No.””
“I’m trying to save you.””
“Then tell Margaret to leave.””
A woman spoke.
Young, cold, unmistakable.
Margaret.
“You really think Isabella gets to keep all of it?””
Michael replied, “It belongs to her.””
Margaret laughed.
“Not after tonight.””
The recording crackled.
Then came a crash.
My father shouted.
Charles yelled, “Margaret, stop!””
A deafening bang exploded through the tape.
I flinched.
Silence.
Then Charles’s voice.
“Oh, God.””
Margaret whispered, “Give me the ledger.””
The recording ended.
Nobody spoke.
My hands were ice.
“She killed him.””
Samuel’s eyes closed.
“Yes.””
“Why wasn’t she arrested?””
“Because the body disappeared.””
I stared at him.
“What?””
“By the time I returned with help, Michael was gone. The room had been cleaned. Charles told everyone I had died here.””
“Why you?””
Samuel’s face hardened.
“Because I took Michael’s identity.””
Dante frowned.
Samuel looked at me.
“Your father and I looked enough alike that documents could be changed. Charles arranged it. I became Michael Walker on paper.””
My stomach turned.
“You pretended to be my father?””
“Only legally.””
“Why?””
“To keep you alive.””
I stood.
“Stop saying that.””
Samuel flinched.
“You all keep using me as the excuse for your lies.””
“You were a baby.””
“And later?””
He had no answer.
I pointed toward the door.
“I grew up believing my father abandoned us. My mother died believing she had to hide. You were alive.””
“I watched from a distance.””
“That makes it worse.””
His face broke.
“I know.””
Footsteps thundered downstairs.
Marco returned.
“They’re gone.””
Dante narrowed his eyes.
“Gone?””
“They left something.””
“What?””
Marco held out a white envelope.
My name was written across it.
EMMA WALKER.
Inside was a photograph.
Nathan stood outside the cathedral beside Margaret.
The timestamp was fifteen minutes old.
On the back, someone had written:
ASK YOUR GROOM WHY HE PAID VERONICA.
My heart stopped.
“No.””
Samuel looked over my shoulder.
Dante’s expression became unreadable.
I turned the photograph over again.
Beneath it was a photocopy of a bank transfer.
Nathan Whitmore.
$50,000.
Recipient:
Veronica Hail.
Dante looked at me.
“Emma.””
I already had my phone in my hand.
I called Nathan.
He answered immediately.
“Emma?””
“Why did you pay Veronica fifty thousand dollars?””
Silence.
“Nathan?””
His breathing changed.
“It wasn’t for what you think.””
My fingers tightened around the phone.
“Then tell me what it was for.””
Another pause.
May you like
Then Nathan said the one thing I wasn’t prepared to hear.
“I paid her to stop your wedding.””
