Chapter 7 - THE MAN WHO CHOSE TO DISAPPEAR
Kareem Rahal stared at his brother's handwriting.
For almost four decades, he'd carried the guilt of believing Farid died because he failed to protect him.
Now he was learning Farid may have staged his own death.
"Why?" Kareem whispered.
Nobody answered.
Omar unfolded the remaining pages.
Farid's statement explained that he'd discovered a criminal network operating through the family shipping business.
The network was led by several executives and corrupt outside partners.
Farid intended to cooperate with investigators.
But someone inside the company warned the criminals.
He feared not only for his own life, but for Samira and their unborn child.
The warehouse explosion had been used to create the appearance of his death.
Farid escaped with help from an investigator.
Then disappeared into a protected identity.
Kareem read every word.
His face grew darker.
"Why didn't he contact me?"
Omar pointed toward the next paragraph.
Farid had written:
I believe Kareem's communications are being monitored. Any attempt to reach him will expose Samira and the baby.
I looked at Kareem.
"He was trying to protect you."
Kareem shook his head.
"By letting me bury him?"
There was no anger in his voice.
Only pain.
I thought about Grandma.
Maybe she'd spent her life carrying the same pain.
Omar opened the final envelope.
Inside was a photograph of three businessmen standing beside Farid.
One was Kareem.
Another was a man I'd never seen.
The third...
My stomach tightened.
I recognized him.
Trent Mallory.
Not exactly.
The man in the photograph looked older.
But the resemblance was unmistakable.
"Who's that?" I asked.
Kareem examined the picture.
His expression changed.
"Victor Mallory."
I stared.
"Trent's father?"
Kareem looked at me sharply.
"You know that name?"
"My manager is Trent Mallory."
Silence.
Omar immediately checked the records.
Victor Mallory had been a financial adviser to the Rahal family decades earlier.
He was later accused of stealing company funds.
But the investigation collapsed after Farid's disappearance.
Victor retired to New York.
His son Trent eventually became manager of the Bellweather Room.
Kareem looked at me.
"Your manager knew who you were."
I shook my head.
"No. He barely knows my name."
Omar spoke quietly.
"Maybe he knew it very well."
I remembered Trent's strange behavior.
How he'd always insisted I work whenever important Middle Eastern clients visited.
How he became furious when I spoke Arabic.
How he'd warned me never to embarrass the restaurant.
A terrible thought formed.
"What if Trent recognized Grandma's surname when I applied?"
Kareem didn't answer.
He didn't need to.
Then my phone rang.
Trent Mallory.
I stared at the screen.
Kareem nodded.
"Answer it on speaker."
I hesitated.
Then pressed the button.
"Nia?"
Trent's voice sounded unusually calm.
"Yes?"
"I think we need to talk about what happened at the restaurant."
My heart pounded.
"What about it?"
He paused.
Then said something that made my blood turn cold.
"Your grandmother should have told you to stay away from the Rahals."
I stopped breathing.
"How do you know my grandmother?"
A long silence followed.
May you like
Then Trent whispered:
"Because my father is the reason she spent forty years hiding."
