Ernest’s cane was resting against the wall. The heavy silver handle was slightly loose. I picked it up. I twisted the handle. It unscrewed with a soft metallic click. Inside the hollow metal shaft was a rolled-up piece of parchment. And a heavy, rusted iron key. I unrolled the paper. The handwriting was not Ernest’s. It was jagged. Angry. Pressed so hard into the paper it nearly tore.
“The debt is not paid, Ernest.” “The boy was innocent.” “I am coming for the rest.” I stared at the words. My blood turned to ice. “Ernest.” I whispered. He turned around. He saw the paper in my hand. All the color drained from his face. He dropped his glass. It shattered on the wooden floor.
“Where did you get that?”
He asked.
His voice was trembling.
“In your cane.”
I said.
“Who is this from?”
Ernest sank into the armchair.
He buried his face in his hands.
“A ghost.”
He whispered.
“A ghost from a life I thought I buried.”
I sat on the floor beside him.
I took his shaking hands in mine.
“Tell me.”
I said.
“Tell me everything.”
He looked up.
His eyes were filled with a sorrow so deep it terrified me.
“You think I built this empire alone.”
He said.
“You think I was just a smart businessman.”
“But I wasn’t.”
“Forty-five years ago, before we were married, I was nobody.”
“I was desperate.”
“I met a man named Victor.”
“Victor was brilliant.”
“But he was ruthless.”
“He had connections in the underground.”
“Smuggling. Extortion. Blackmail.”
“He taught me how to leverage fear.”
“We built the foundation of our wealth in the shadows.”
My breath caught in my throat.
My husband, the man I thought was a pillar of the community, had built his fortune on crime.
“When the money became too big, I wanted out.”
Ernest continued.
“I wanted to go legitimate.”
“I wanted to marry you.”
“I wanted to be clean.”
“But Victor didn’t want to stop.”
“He wanted more power.”
“We had a massive falling out.”
“He threatened to expose me.”
“He threatened to destroy you.”
“So I made a choice.”
“A choice that has haunted me every single day of my life.”
“I went to the police.”
“I gave them anonymous tips about his operations.”
“I ruined him.”
“He went to prison for twenty years.”
“But when he got out, he was a dead man walking.”
“Or so I thought.”
“What about the note?”
I asked.
“What boy?”
Ernest closed his eyes.
A tear slipped down his cheek.
“Victor had a son.”
“Tommy.”
“Tommy was my best friend.”
“When Victor went to prison, Tommy tried to keep the business running.”
“But he was sloppy.”
“He got involved with the wrong people.”
“He was killed in a botched deal.”
“I didn’t know it was him.”
“Not until years later.”
“When I found out, I paid a mortician to swap the bodies.”
“I used Tommy’s body to fake my own death.”
“I thought I was giving Victor closure.”
“I thought I was giving him his son back.”
“But I was wrong.”
“He didn’t see it as closure.”
“He saw it as a desecration.”
“He thinks I murdered Tommy to save myself.”
“And now, he is here for revenge.”
PART-12
The fire popped loudly in the hearth.
The sparks flew into the dark chimney.
I stared at my husband.
The man I had loved for forty-three years.
He was a stranger.
“You used our son’s friend’s body to fake your death?”
I whispered.
“I had to, Terry.”
He pleaded.
“It was the only way to protect you.”
“Victor would have killed us both.”
“And what about Eleanor?”
I asked.
The name tasted like ash in my mouth.
“Did you know who she really was?”
Ernest froze.
“What do you mean?”
He asked.
“Eleanor wasn’t just my jealous sister.”
I said.
The pieces were finally falling into place.
The grand, terrible puzzle was complete.
“She was Victor’s daughter.”
Ernest stopped breathing.
The silence in the cabin was absolute.
“Victor had a daughter before he went to prison.”
I said.
“He placed her in the foster system.”
“He gave her a new name.”
“Eleanor.”
“She was planted in my life.”
“She was supposed to be my sister.”
“But she was his weapon.”
“She was sent to get close to us.”
“To wait for the perfect moment to strike.”
Ernest stood up.
He paced the floor.
His face was pale.
His hands were shaking.
“My God.”
He whispered.
“It all makes sense.”
“The sabotage.”
“The poisoning.”
“The manipulation of the boys.”
“It wasn’t just greed.”
“It was a decades-long revenge plot.”
“Victor used her to tear us apart from the inside.”
“And now he’s back to finish it.”
Suddenly, the satellite phone rang.
The harsh, loud ringing shattered the quiet.
We both stared at it.
It was sitting on the desk.
I walked over to it.
I picked it up.
I didn’t say a word.
“Hello, Theresa.”
A deep, raspy voice echoed from the speaker.
It sounded like gravel and broken glass.
“Victor.”
I said.
“You know who I am.”
He replied.
“Where is my son?”
I held the phone tighter.
“I don’t have your son.”
“Your son is dead.”
“He has been dead for forty years.”
“Tommy is dead.”
Victor said.
His voice dropped to a lethal whisper.
“But I have another son now.”
My heart stopped.
“What did you do?”
I asked.
“I went to the probation center.”
Victor said.
“I took the younger one.”
“Hunter.”
I dropped to my knees.
The phone slipped from my hand.
Ernest caught it.
He put it on speaker.
“Hunter is safe for now.”
Victor’s voice echoed in the small room.
“But he won’t be if you don’t come to me.”
“Bring the key, Ernest.”
“You know which key.”
“Come to the old shipyard.”
“Come alone.”
“If you bring the police, the boy dies.”
“If you bring Theresa, the boy dies.”
“Just you.”
“And your blood money.”
The line went dead.
Ernest looked at me.
His eyes were wild.
“I have to go.”
He said.
“He’s going to kill Hunter.”
“No.”
I said.
I stood up.
I wiped the tears from my face.
“We are not going to let him win.”
“We are not going to let him take another one of our children.”
“We go together.”
“Terry, he will kill you.”
“He already tried to kill me.”
I said.
“I am not afraid of him.”
“And I am not letting you face him alone.”
Ernest looked at me.
He saw the iron in my eyes.
He nodded slowly.
“Then we need weapons.”
He said.
“We need to go to the safe house.”
