Chapter 8 - MY BROTHER’S HOUSE
I hadn’t said Nathan’s name aloud in months.
Now it was everywhere.
Bank records.
Property documents.
Old photographs.
His signature.
My dead brother had purchased the Key Largo house two years before his death.
Cash.
No mortgage.
No family disclosure.
And Victoria had visited it.
Repeatedly.
Private flight logs showed seven trips over eighteen months.
Always when I was traveling.
I felt humiliated.
Angry.
Grieving all over again.
But Sophie didn’t have time for my feelings.
We flew to Miami.
Emily stayed with Caleb.
Rachel agreed to meet federal investigators separately.
Arthur had disappeared.
Margaret remained in custody.
Victoria was still moving.
A camera captured her purchasing groceries near Key Largo.
Sophie was beside her.
Alive.
Physically unharmed.
That was the only fact keeping me sane.
By sunset, law enforcement surrounded Nathan’s former house.
The property sat behind mangroves overlooking a narrow stretch of turquoise water.
No neighbors within shouting distance.
A dock extended behind the house.
There was a speedboat.
Engine warm.
Victoria was preparing to leave.
A negotiator called.
No answer.
Again.
Nothing.
Then my phone rang.
Victoria.
“Send them away.”
“I can’t.”
“Yes, you can.”
“Sophie needs to go home.”
“This is her home.”
“She has never been here.”
“Her father built it.”
“You don’t know who her father is.”
A pause.
“I do.”
My heart stopped.
“Nathan.”
Victoria began crying.
“I loved him.”
I closed my eyes.
There it was.
Not Arthur.
Not uncertainty.
Nathan.
“How long?”
“Does it matter?”
“Yes.”
“Three years.”
Three.
That meant it began before our wedding.
Nathan had stood beside me at the altar already sleeping with my bride.
I almost couldn’t process it.
“Why did you marry me?”
Victoria whispered, “Because Nathan wouldn’t.”
The answer was so simple it hurt more.
“He loved you,” she continued. “But he would never betray you publicly.”
I laughed bitterly.
“Only privately.”
“He was going to tell you.”
“When?”
“When I became pregnant.”
“With three babies.”
“Yes.”
“And two were mine.”
“Yes.”
“God.”
“I didn’t plan that.”
“How convenient.”
She sobbed.
“We stopped seeing each other after I got pregnant.”
“Because you suddenly discovered morality?”
“Because Nathan was terrified.”
“Then he died.”
Silence.
Something in that silence disturbed me.
“Nathan’s boating accident.”
Victoria stopped crying.
“What about it?”
“How did he die?”
“You know how.”
“Boat explosion.”
“Yes.”
“Were you there?”
“No.”
“Arthur?”
“No.”
“Margaret?”
“Daniel…”
“Was my brother murdered?”
The line became quiet.
I felt Marcus watching me.
“Victoria.”
“My mother said Nathan was going to ruin everything.”
My skin prickled.
“What did she do?”
“I don’t know.”
“Don’t lie.”
“I don’t know.”
“You expect me to believe that?”
“She arranged to meet him at the marina.”
My legs nearly gave out.
“When?”
“The night he died.”
Marcus immediately contacted investigators.
I lowered my voice.
“Did Margaret kill Nathan?”
“I never asked.”
“You never asked?”
“Because I was terrified of the answer.”
There it was again.
Victoria’s entire life appeared built around choosing ignorance whenever knowledge would demand courage.
“Let Sophie go.”
“I can’t.”
“Yes, you can.”
“If she leaves, I lose everything.”
“You already lost everything.”
“No.”
Her voice hardened.
“As Nathan’s daughter, she is entitled to his trust.”
So there it was.
Not motherhood.
Money.
“You kidnapped her for inheritance.”
“She belongs to the Cole family.”
“She belongs with the people who raised her.”
“I am her mother.”
“You abandoned her.”
“I was scared!”
“For four years?”
Silence.
I looked toward the house.
Through a second-story window, I saw movement.
A small figure.
Sophie.
She stood holding something purple.
Her backpack.
Then Victoria appeared behind her.
I forced my voice to stay calm.
“Sophie can see police.”
“She’s fine.”
“She’s terrified.”
“She’ll adjust.”
“To being kidnapped?”
“Stop using that word.”
“What word would you prefer?”
Victoria screamed, “I gave birth to her!”
“And Claire Harrison raised her when you refused to.”
Silence.
Then a child’s voice:
“I want Mommy Claire.”
My heart broke.
Victoria snapped, “Go upstairs.”
“No!”
“Now!”
Sophie began crying.
I heard a struggle.
“Victoria.”
The phone hit something.
Then the line stayed open.
I heard footsteps.
A door.
Sophie screaming.
And Victoria shouting:
“You ruined everything just like your father!”
Marcus’s eyes met mine.
That sentence would destroy Victoria in court.
But right then, I didn’t care.
“Can they enter?”
He shook his head.
“Unless there’s immediate threat to life.”
Then we heard glass break.
Sophie screamed louder.
That was enough.
Agents moved.
The front door burst inward.
I stayed behind the line as ordered.
Then gunfire.
One shot.
My body went numb.
“Who fired?”
Nobody answered.
Another.
Then silence.
I ran.
Marcus grabbed me.
“Daniel!”
“My daughter is in there!”
Agents flooded the property.
Thirty seconds.
Forty.
A minute.
Then someone shouted:
“Child secure!”
I nearly collapsed.
Sophie emerged in the arms of a female officer.
She was crying.
I ran toward her.
Stopped several feet away.
She didn’t know me.
I couldn’t overwhelm her.
“Where’s Victoria?”
An agent answered.
“Upstairs.”
“Is she alive?”
“Yes.”
“Who fired?”
“She did.”
“At police?”
“No.”
My stomach tightened.
“At who?”
The agent looked grim.
“Dr. Vale.”
May you like
Arthur was inside the house.
And Victoria had just shot him.
