Chapter 8 - The Husband She Suddenly Had to Question
Emily did not accuse Alexander.
That frightened him more.
She simply asked:
“Did you know about Adrian Cross before today?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“He worked with my father.”
“You never mentioned him.”
“There was no reason to.”
“Until there was.”
Alexander looked toward Porter and Thomas.
“Can we have the room?”
Emily shook her head.
“No.”
His expression tightened.
“Emily.”
“If there’s an explanation, give it here.”
Thomas watched with unsettling calm.
Alexander looked at him.
“You’re enjoying this.”
“No.”
Thomas’s voice was quiet.
“I’ve spent seventeen years waiting for it.”
Emily turned.
“Waiting for what?”
“For the Hale family to finally explain what happened.”
Alexander’s voice sharpened.
“My family had nothing to do with Charles Carter’s death.”
Death.
Nobody had mentioned death.
Emily felt the floor shift beneath her.
“I thought we were talking about money.”
Silence.
She looked at Thomas.
“Was my father’s death not natural?”
Thomas looked suddenly tired.
“I don’t know.”
“What do you know?”
“Charles believed Adrian Cross was dangerous.”
“What did Cross want?”
“Control.”
“Of what?”
“Companies. Property. People.”
Thomas looked at Alexander again.
“Your father understood that.”
Alexander’s eyes hardened.
“My father forced Cross out.”
“When?”
“Eighteen years ago.”
Thomas shook his head.
“No.”
Alexander stepped forward.
“What?”
“Publicly, yes.”
Thomas leaned back.
“Privately, Richard Hale continued financing him.”
Alexander went still.
Emily knew Richard Hale only through photographs.
Alexander’s father had died eleven years earlier.
Alexander rarely spoke about him.
Their relationship had been difficult.
Now Thomas opened a slim folder.
Inside were copies of bank transfers.
Richard Hale.
Adrian Cross.
Meridian Trust Services.
Emily scanned dates.
The payments continued years after Alexander believed the partnership had ended.
Alexander took the pages.
His face changed.
“These could be fabricated.”
“They could.”
Thomas looked at Emily.
“That’s why you need Box 417.”
Porter stood.
“We’ll accompany you.”
The bank was forty minutes away.
Emily rode beside Alexander in silence.
Finally he said:
“You think I knew.”
“I don’t know what to think.”
“I didn’t.”
She looked out the window.
“I asked you to investigate my father’s papers.”
“Yes.”
“You found the trust.”
“Yes.”
“My father left a message warning me about whoever helped me find it.”
“Yes.”
“You understand how that looks.”
“Yes.”
Emily turned toward him.
“Then tell me everything.”
Alexander stared ahead.
“My father and Adrian Cross built their first investment company together. Cross was brilliant. Aggressive. My father believed he could control him.”
“Could he?”
“No.”
Alexander’s voice became quieter.
“Cross used shell companies, political donations, leveraged acquisitions. My father discovered he was blackmailing business owners.”
“And?”
“He forced Cross out.”
“Apparently not completely.”
Alexander looked down at the documents.
“No.”
At First National Bank, Box 417 required two keys.
Emily had one.
The bank had the other.
The box was brought into a private room.
Emily inserted her key.
Click.
Alexander stood beside her.
Porter behind them.
Emily lifted the lid.
Inside were three folders.
A cassette recorder.
An old flash drive.
And a sealed letter.
EMILY.
Her hands trembled.
She opened it.
My sweet girl,
If you are reading this, then something went wrong.
Emily’s eyes blurred.
She continued.
There are people around our family who believe money gives them ownership over others.
Your mother has made choices I do not understand and cannot excuse.
But she is not the beginning of this.
Find Adrian Cross.
Do not do it alone.
And if a Hale is standing beside you when you read this, ask him what happened at Blackridge.
Emily stopped.
Alexander had gone pale.
She turned slowly.
“What is Blackridge?”
He did not answer.
“Alexander.”
His jaw tightened.
“It was a house.”
“What house?”
“My father’s.”
“What happened there?”
Alexander looked at the letter.
Then at Emily.
“A man died.”
Porter stepped forward.
“Who?”
Alexander’s answer came quietly.
“Adrian Cross.”
Thomas Vale, standing near the door, gave a bitter laugh.
“No.”
Everyone turned.
Thomas shook his head.
“Adrian Cross didn’t die at Blackridge.”
May you like
He looked directly at Alexander.
“The man your father buried under that name wasn’t Adrian.”
