Chapter 9 - THE TOWN WHERE DEAD MEN LIVED

Northern Wisconsin was covered in snow when I arrived.

The town was small.

One main street.

A grocery store.

A diner.

A church.

And a row of houses overlooking a frozen lake.

I traveled with an independent investigator named Rebecca Shaw, who'd been hired through the attorney reviewing my company's finances.

Elena had agreed to let me search for Michael.

But she'd refused to leave Sofia and Rafael alone.

I understood.

For nine years, she'd protected them without help.

Trust wasn't something I could demand from her.

It was something I had to earn.

We began with the address listed on Sofia's birthday card.

A small blue house near the lake.

The curtains were drawn.

The driveway had been cleared recently.

Someone was living there.

Rebecca approached the door first.

She knocked.

No answer.

Again.

Nothing.

Then a neighbor stepped outside.

"Looking for Mr. Miller?"

I turned.

"Who?"

"The man who lives there."

"What's his first name?"

"Thomas."

My heart tightened.

Thomas Miller.

Another false name.

"How long has he lived here?"

"About six years."

I swallowed.

"Does he have visitors?"

The woman considered.

"Not many. But an older gentleman comes sometimes."

My stomach twisted.

"Older?"

"White hair. Walks with a cane."

I looked at Rebecca.

My father would've been seventy-one.

He'd used a cane during the final years before his supposed death.

I felt cold.

"Is the older man here now?"

The neighbor shook her head.

"Haven't seen him this week."

We thanked her.

Then contacted local law enforcement about the information.

The investigator coordinated with the authorities before anyone attempted entry.

I wasn't going to repeat my father's methods.

Not anymore.

Later that afternoon, a vehicle pulled into the driveway.

A man stepped out.

Tall.

Dark-haired.

Broad-shouldered.

He wore a winter coat and carried a bag of groceries.

I stopped breathing.

Michael.

Older.

Thinner.

A faint scar crossed his cheek.

But unmistakably my brother.

He looked toward our vehicle.

His eyes widened.

For a moment, neither of us moved.

Then he dropped the grocery bag.

"Daniel?"

My throat closed.

"Michael."

He stared at me.

Then shook his head.

"No."

I stepped forward.

"Michael, it's me."

His expression changed.

Fear.

Anger.

Grief.

All at once.

"You shouldn't be here."

My heart broke.

"You're alive."

He looked away.

"Daniel..."

I crossed the distance between us.

He tried to step backward.

But I caught him in my arms.

For nine years, I'd believed I'd never see him again.

Now he was real.

Warm.

Breathing.

I held him so tightly that he finally stopped resisting.

Then he began crying.

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

I shook my head.

"No."

"I'm so sorry."

I closed my eyes.

"Come home."

His body stiffened.

He stepped backward.

"I can't."

My stomach tightened.

"Why?"

He looked toward the blue house.

Then toward the road.

"Because Dad is still alive."

I swallowed.

"I know."

Michael's eyes widened.

"You know?"

I nodded.

"Where is he?"

My brother looked at me.

Then said the words that made my blood run cold.

"He's been living inside your organization for the past five years."

I stared.

"Under what name?"

Michael's expression darkened.

"Samuel Graves."

My stomach dropped.

Samuel Graves.

My chief legal adviser.

May you like

The paralyzed crime boss hired the worst caregiver in Chicago and she be...

The billionaire was abandoned at the altar in his wheelchair, then he as...

She spent her last $22 feeding a stranger, and by sunrise she learned he...

The man who handled every major contract.

The man who had been beside me since my father's funeral.