Chapter 5 - THE NIGHT MY MOTHER DIED
I walked out of the study before anyone could stop me.
Ethan followed.
I made it halfway down the corridor before turning on him.
“Did you know?”
“No.”
“Don’t lie to me.”
“I didn’t know about your mother.”
“You knew something.”
He stopped.
“Yes.”
There it was.
I laughed bitterly.
“Of course.”
“Jane.”
“What?”
“I suspected your father had hidden something about the Russos.”
“And that’s why you married me?”
“No.”
I stared at him.
“Don’t.”
His jaw tightened.
“That isn’t why.”
“You told Brian exactly why.”
His eyes flashed.
“I told Brian what he needed to hear.”
The sentence stopped me.
“What does that mean?”
He looked away.
Before I could push, my father appeared.
“Jane.”
I turned.
“You lied to me for eight years.”
“I was trying to keep you alive.”
“You told me Mom fell asleep behind the wheel.”
“I know.”
“You let me blame her.”
Pain crossed his face.
“I know.”
That mattered.
Because my mother had hated driving at night.
For years, I had imagined her tired.
Careless.
Now I knew someone had taken her life.
My father finally told us what happened.
My mother had arranged to meet a federal contact.
She planned to give him evidence against Victor Russo.
She never arrived.
Her car went through a guardrail near Lake Geneva.
The police ruled it an accident.
My father never believed it.
Three days later, the federal contact disappeared too.
“And you did nothing?”
He looked at me sharply.
“I spent eight years doing everything.”
“Then why is Victor still alive?”
“Because revenge without proof gets families killed.”
Ethan studied him.
“What proof did she have?”
My father hesitated.
“Ledger copies. Account numbers. Names.”
“Where?”
“She hid them.”
“In the black box?”
My father’s face changed.
So the box mattered.
“What was inside it?” I asked.
“I never saw.”
“But you took it from the safe.”
“No.”
I stared at him.
“I remember you carrying it.”
“That wasn’t me.”
The room went cold.
“What?”
“The man you saw was wearing my coat.”
I felt my chest tighten.
“Who?”
My father sat slowly.
“Your uncle Thomas.”
My father’s younger brother.
He had died six years ago from a heart attack.
At least, that was what I had been told.
“He was at the lake house?”
“Yes.”
“He took the box?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
My father looked away.
“Because he was helping your mother.”
That made no sense.
“Then where did he put it?”
“He never told me.”
“Why?”
“He disappeared for two days after your mother died.”
“And when he came back?”
“He said the box was safe.”
“Where?”
“He refused to say.”
Ethan asked, “Was Thomas loyal?”
My father’s silence was too long.
Finally, he answered:
“I thought so.”
I looked at him.
“What does that mean?”
May you like
He met my eyes.
“Three years after your mother died, I found evidence Thomas had been receiving money from Victor Russo.”
