Chapter 9 - The Grandfather’s Second Granddaughter
Elias pulled his shirt over his nose.
Sebastian struck the ventilation panel with his cane.
The gas continued pouring into the room.
“Balcony,” Elias said.
The doors were sealed.
He grabbed a chair and slammed it into the glass.
The first strike cracked the surface.
The second shattered it.
Cold rain rushed inside.
Sebastian coughed violently.
Elias helped him onto the balcony.
Seventeen floors below, police vehicles surrounded the hotel entrance.
A maintenance platform hung four floors above them.
A narrow exterior ladder ran beside the windows.
Sebastian looked up.
“At my age, this is an unreasonable request.”
“Then remain here and breathe poison.”
The old man gave him a grim smile.
“You do sound like Elena.”
Elias climbed first.
Sebastian followed slowly, using strength concealed beneath his age.
They reached the eighteenth-floor service terrace moments before smoke began pouring from the broken suite windows.
A fire crew found them ten minutes later.
By dawn, the revelation of the Hawthorne twins had become international news.
Reporters gathered outside the hotel, Hawthorne Global headquarters, the Bellamy residence, and every property connected to Adrian.
The company’s board announced an emergency succession review.
Trading in several associated firms was suspended.
Adrian remained in the hospital beside Margaret.
He watched television footage of Elias and Sebastian being led from the hotel.
A reporter shouted, “Mr. Hawthorne, is Elias Mercer your legal heir?”
Sebastian did not answer.
Another shouted, “Is Adrian Whitmore also your grandson?”
Adrian turned off the screen.
Margaret watched him.
“You are not alone,” she said.
He laughed bitterly.
“I was raised by a woman who did not know which child she received, married a woman who may be my cousin, and discovered my family during the most humiliating night of my life.”
“The marriage has not been legally registered.”
He looked at her.
“What?”
“Vanessa delayed filing the certificate.”
“Why?”
“I do not know.”
“Yes, you do.”
Margaret closed her eyes.
“Victor required her to wait until after the succession transfer.”
Adrian stood.
“You knew Victor was alive.”
“He contacted me once a year.”
“Why?”
“To remind me that he could take you away.”
“I am thirty-two.”
“He did not mean physically.”
Adrian understood.
Victor had controlled them with the truth.
“Where did you meet him?”
“Different places.”
“When was the last time?”
“Two months ago.”
“What did he want?”
Margaret hesitated.
“He wanted something from Hawthorne House.”
“What?”
“A portrait of Elena.”
Adrian frowned.
“Why?”
“He said the frame contained a map.”
At the police station, Charles Bellamy refused to speak without his attorney.
Vanessa remained missing.
Her abandoned silver gown had been found in a hotel laundry cart. Security footage showed a woman in a police uniform leaving through the underground garage, but her face was hidden.
Elias sat in an interview room across from Detective Lena Ortiz.
She placed the photograph of Elena on the table.
“This appeared during a public confrontation in a ballroom where you had deliberately taken a service position despite being a possible heir to one of the largest private companies in the country.”
“I did not know Sebastian would identify me publicly.”
“But you expected him to attend.”
“Yes.”
“You were investigating him.”
“I was investigating my mother’s death.”
“You disappeared during the blackout.”
“I believed I was in danger.”
“You then appeared at a burning safe house, entered illegally, rescued a wounded witness, vanished before giving a statement, and returned to a hotel suite filled with stolen medical records.”
“When you say it that way, it sounds suspicious.”
Ortiz almost smiled.
“Your brother struck you in front of two hundred witnesses.”
“He did not know I was his brother.”
“He still struck a waiter.”
“I am aware.”
“Do you intend to press charges?”
“Yes.”
The answer came without hesitation.
Ortiz nodded.
“Good.”
Elias studied her.
“You expected me to protect him?”
“Powerful families usually prefer private apologies.”
“I am not part of his family.”
“The DNA report says otherwise.”
“DNA does not create loyalty.”
“No. Choices do.”
She placed another photograph on the table.
The dead Meridian attacker from the station.
“We identified him as Daniel Krell, former military intelligence.”
“Who employed him?”
“Officially, no one.”
“And unofficially?”
“He was seen entering a private clinic owned by Bellamy Medical three days ago.”
“Did Charles hire him?”
“Charles claims Victor Sloane controls that clinic.”
Elias leaned forward.
“He spoke?”
“Only enough to blame a missing man.”
“Victor is not missing.”
“You have proof?”
“The suite video.”
“Destroyed by the fire.”
“The laptop may have uploaded to an external server.”
“Which could belong to Victor.”
“Or Vanessa.”
Ortiz tapped the table.
“There is another complication. Lydia Crane disappeared from the ambulance.”
Elias stared at her.
“What?”
“The ambulance was intercepted two blocks from the fire. The paramedics were found unconscious. Lydia was gone.”
“Was she alive?”
“At the time of interception.”
“Who took her?”
“We found a black crown symbol painted inside the vehicle.”
Meridian.
Ortiz slid a sealed plastic bag toward him.
“Lydia left this beneath the stretcher.”
Inside was a torn piece of paper.
Elias read the handwriting.
ELENA’S PORTRAIT. THE CHILD BEHIND THE CHILD.
He looked up.
“Hawthorne House.”
Ortiz nodded.
“Sebastian has already left for the estate.”
Elias stood.
“Then I am leaving too.”
“You are still being questioned.”
“Arrest me or open the door.”
Ortiz held his gaze.
Then she unlocked it.
“Bring me evidence,” she said. “Not another burning building.”
At Hawthorne House, Sebastian entered the long portrait gallery alone.
Elena’s painting hung at the end.
She was seventeen in the portrait, dressed in blue, one hand resting on the shoulder of her younger brother.
Elias had never heard that she had a younger brother.
The inscription beneath the frame read:
ELENA AND THOMAS HAWTHORNE.
Sebastian stared at the boy.
Thomas had died at age nine.
Or so the family had believed.
May you like
Someone had recently cut his face from the canvas.
Behind the missing section, a human eye looked through the wall.
