Chapter 6 - THE MAN WHO WAS SUPPOSED TO BE DEAD
By midnight, the gala had become a crime scene. Guests left in controlled groups after identification and questioning. Reporters gathered behind police barriers outside the library, shouting into cameras beneath umbrellas. Inside, the chandeliers still burned over half-finished champagne and untouched desserts, making the ballroom look like a celebration abandoned by ghosts. Adriano moved the children to a secure apartment on the library’s upper residential floor rather than risk a motorcade through the press.
Theo slept. Ava refused to. She sat wrapped in a blanket beside Reyes while Adriano spoke with detectives in the adjoining study. Celia Roth joined them by video from the hospital. A bandage crossed her temple, and her voice shook when she began. —Charles contacted me six months ago, she said. —I thought he was dead until he called me by a nickname only three people knew.
—What did he want? Adriano asked. —Elena’s archive. Celia explained that six years earlier, Elena had entrusted her with copies of emails, recorded conversations, and financial statements. She had told Celia to release everything if she died under suspicious circumstances. But after the crash, Bernadette found Celia first. —She begged me not to destroy the family, Celia said.
—She said Damian would go to prison for transfers he didn’t understand. She said Charles had forced signatures and moved money through accounts in Damian’s name. Damian, seated under guard across the room, looked away. —So you hid the archive, Adriano said. —Yes. —For six years. Celia’s eyes filled with shame. —I told myself I was protecting Elena’s children from scandal.
Really, I was afraid. Bernadette sat near the fireplace. She did not defend Celia because any defense would also defend herself. Adriano asked, —Why meet Bernadette last month? —Because Charles found me. He sent a photograph of Ava leaving school. Then one of Theo at the park. He wanted the archive. I called Bernadette because she was the only person who would understand what he was capable of.
Bernadette whispered, —I thought I could pay him to disappear again. Damian laughed without humor. —You thought money fixed everything. Bernadette turned toward her son. —Money kept you out of prison when your father used your signature. Damian’s face changed. —You said I approved those transfers. —You did approve some. Not all. A family history that had once looked polished now cracked in every direction.
Adriano returned his attention to Celia. —Did Charles kill Elena? The room became still. Celia closed her eyes. —I don’t know. It was the only responsible answer, and Adriano hated it. —But, Celia continued, —Elena believed he had tampered with her car once before. She found a cut in a brake sensor cable three weeks before the crash.
She had it repaired quietly because she wanted proof before accusing him. One detective leaned forward. —Do you have records? —In the archive. —Which is now missing, Reyes said. Celia nodded. Adriano looked at the old Elena recording sealed in an evidence bag on the table. —Why leave one recorder in locker fourteen tonight? Celia shook her head.
—I didn’t. Bernadette did not either. Damian denied it. Mara Kline had never seen it. That meant Charles—or someone working for him—had deliberately placed Elena’s voice where Adriano would find it. Why expose evidence against himself? Unless it was selected evidence, meant to push Adriano toward a particular conclusion. A detective voiced the same thought.
—He may be controlling the story. Give you enough truth to make you act predictably. Adriano turned toward the window. Outside, police lights pulsed across the rain-dark glass. He remembered the note: HE CHOOSES THE CHILDREN. —Or he wants me to choose, Adriano said. Reyes understood first. —Between the archive and the kids. Adriano nodded.
—Tonight he created two targets. Room 814 and the library. If I chased the archive, I left the children. If I stayed with them, he took the archive. Celia’s eyes widened. —Then he already has what he wanted. —No, Adriano said. —Not yet. Everyone looked at him. —The archive is leverage. The trust is the objective.
The detective asked, —How does he access it? Bernadette answered. —He needs proof the heirs cannot serve as beneficiaries, or he needs my authority restored under emergency succession. —Your authority is finished, Adriano said. —I know. —Does Charles? Bernadette looked toward the floor. —He may think I will still cooperate to save Damian. Adriano saw the opportunity immediately.
—So let him think that. Reyes turned. —You want to use Bernadette. —I want Charles to contact her. Bernadette looked up. —He will. —How do you know? —Because he has always believed fear is stronger than love. She touched the pearls at her throat with trembling fingers. —He will expect me to be afraid enough to finish what I started.
Damian stared at his mother. —And are you? Bernadette’s gaze moved through the open doorway to Ava, sitting beyond it beneath the blanket. —Yes, she said. —But not of him anymore. At 12:17 a.m., detectives returned Bernadette’s phone under controlled conditions. They placed it on the table in front of her and began recording every incoming signal.
Nothing happened for eleven minutes. Then a message appeared from an unknown number. YOU FAILED THE SWITCH. Bernadette looked at Adriano. A second message followed. YOU STILL HAVE ONE WAY TO SAVE YOUR SON. Damian swore quietly. Then came an address. An abandoned printing plant beside the river, owned decades ago by Vela Publishing and sold after Elena’s grandfather retired.
Beneath the address was a final line. BRING PAGE 247. COME ALONE. Adriano read it and almost smiled, though there was no humor in him. Charles believed the journal was still the only surviving proof. He did not know Mara had photographed it before the server deletion. The server images were gone, but digital files rarely disappeared completely.
A forensic team was already working on recovery. More importantly, Adriano had the physical journal in police custody. Bernadette touched the phone. —He’ll know if I bring a copy. Adriano looked at her. —You’re not bringing anything. —He asked for me. —He asked for a frightened mother who would obey him. Bernadette’s mouth tightened. Adriano continued.
May you like
—That woman is gone. For the first time that night, something like gratitude passed through her face. It was not forgiveness. Neither of them pretended it was. Then Ava appeared in the doorway. —Daddy? Adriano turned immediately. She held a small gray envelope. —This was in my coat pocket. Reyes crossed the room and took it with gloved hands.
Inside was a photograph taken that evening. It showed Theo standing in the children’s gallery. On the back, written in the same block capitals as the locker note, were six words. NEXT TIME, I TAKE THE GIRL.
