Chapter 8 - THE UNCLE WHO WANTED EVERYTHING
My uncle, Charles Graves, had spent most of his life pretending he wasn't interested in power.
He attended church every Sunday.
Donated to children's hospitals.
Wore inexpensive suits despite being worth millions.
And called me every Christmas to remind me that family was everything.
Now Daniel was accusing him of orchestrating a betrayal that had destroyed Henry Carter's life.
I didn't want to believe it.
But I had learned something important.
Wanting something to be false didn't make it false.
Rebecca placed Charles's financial records on my desk.
"He's been receiving consulting payments from several patent licensing companies."
"How much?"
"More than twelve million dollars over the last decade."
I studied the transfers.
"Why?"
"That's what we're investigating."
Charles had always claimed his wealth came from conservative investments.
Apparently, those investments were closely connected to the technology Henry Carter helped invent.
"Call him," I said.
Rebecca hesitated.
"Nathan, we should let investigators handle it."
She was right.
I closed the file.
"Then send them everything."
That evening, Charles arrived at my estate unexpectedly.
He entered my study without knocking.
"Nathan."
I looked up.
"Uncle Charles."
He smiled.
"I heard you've been asking questions about old family business."
I stood.
"Have a seat."
He studied me.
"What's wrong?"
"Did you know Henry Carter?"
Charles laughed.
"Of course. Brilliant man. Terrible businessman."
I watched his face.
"What happened to his company shares?"
Charles's smile faded.
"Ancient history."
"Answer me."
He sat slowly.
"Victor bought him out."
"According to a document Laura Carter says Henry never signed."
Charles shrugged.
"People remember things differently after twenty years."
I felt anger rise.
"Henry warned someone that the factory equipment had been modified."
Charles looked at me.
"That was an accident."
"Was it?"
He leaned forward.
"Nathan, don't let some housemaid convince you your father was a criminal."
The words hit me like a slap.
Some housemaid.
Annie.
The young woman studying engineering while working through pain.
The granddaughter of the man whose inventions had helped make my family wealthy.
I stared at Charles.
"Her name is Annie Carter."
He rolled his eyes.
"Fine. Annie Carter."
"And she's entitled to be heard."
Charles stood.
"You've become sentimental."
I stepped closer.
"No. I've become tired of people hiding behind my family name."
His face hardened.
"Be careful."
I laughed quietly.
"Is that a threat?"
"It's advice."
He turned toward the door.
Then stopped.
"Victor made mistakes. But he understood loyalty."
I looked at him.
"Did he?"
Charles glanced back.
"More than you ever will."
After he left, Marcus approached.
"Sir, there's something you should see."
He handed me a photograph recovered from the old factory.
It showed Charles and Patricia standing beside Henry Carter's damaged machine.
The timestamp was forty-eight hours before the accident.
But that wasn't what made my blood run cold.
In the background stood another person.
A young woman.
She was holding an infant.
The woman was Laura Carter.
And the baby in her arms was Annie.
But Annie had been born fourteen years after Henry's accident.
The photograph couldn't be real.
May you like
Unless the date had been altered.
Or the baby wasn't Annie.
