Chapter 10 - THE PLANT MY FATHER BUILT
The old steel plant sat outside Gary, Indiana.
Closed nine years.
Rust.
Broken windows.
A monument to everything our father built before shifting Morgan Infrastructure into modern construction.
Federal agents wanted surveillance first.
Claire agreed.
Peter demanded we enter alone.
Claire didn't.
She insisted on wearing a concealed tracker.
I insisted too.
She gave me a look.
“I can agree without your permission.”
“I know.”
Another small correction.
We entered.
Patricia sat near an old foreman's office.
Alive.
Peter stood beside a folding table.
Documents arranged neatly.
Always organized.
“Welcome.”
I stared at my brother.
“You killed Dad?”
He smiled.
Straight to the point.
“I accelerated an inevitable event.”
Claire's face hardened.
There it was.
Confession.
Maybe not enough legally.
But the tracker carried audio.
Peter continued.
“Reeves administered the medication.”
“Why?”
“He was going to expose me.”
“Your own father?”
“Our father spent his life using us.”
Maybe.
Still murder.
Peter pushed papers toward us.
Claire read them.
Transfer of voting rights.
Release of claims.
Statement retracting her evidence.
“And if we sign?”
“Patricia walks.”
“No,” Patricia said.
Peter struck the table.
“Quiet.”
I saw Claire tense.
“Don't.”
Peter looked at me.
“What?”
“Touch her.”
He smiled.
“Which one?”
That was the moment I understood exactly what kind of man he had become.
Not my brother.
Not really.
Claire spoke:
“You won't kill Patricia.”
Peter laughed.
“Why?”
“Because you need someone to notarize these.”
His expression changed.
Small.
Claire continued.
“You need legitimacy. Otherwise this is just kidnapping and extortion.”
Peter hated being read.
Good.
Then Arthur emerged from behind a column.
I thought he was in custody.
Apparently not.
He had escaped during transport with help from a compromised officer.
He moved toward Claire.
I stepped between them.
Arthur shoved me aside.
I came back.
He hit me once.
Hard.
I fell against the table.
Arthur reached for Claire.
She drove her elbow into his ribs.
He staggered.
I grabbed him from behind.
He threw me off.
Then federal agents entered.
Arthur ran.
One agent blocked him.
He changed direction.
Peter grabbed Patricia and pulled a knife.
Everything stopped.
Claire's voice became calm.
“Peter.”
He looked at her.
“You don't want to do this.”
“I already did worse.”
“Exactly.”
That confused him.
She continued.
“Which means killing Patricia changes nothing except guaranteeing you never see daylight again.”
For one second, Peter's hand loosened.
Patricia moved.
Agents rushed him.
Over.
No gunfight.
No dramatic death.
Just my brother pinned to a dirty concrete floor inside the plant our father built.
Then Peter started laughing.
I looked at him.
“What?”
He stared directly at Claire.
“You still haven't told him.”
My stomach dropped.
“Told me what?”
Claire went pale.
Peter smiled.
“Ask her why the divorce was already final before you knew she'd filed.”
I frowned.
“Because I was served.”
“No.”
May you like
Peter laughed again.
“Ask her who signed for the service papers.”
