Chapter 3 - The Father Who Had a Funeral

Adrian opened the door before anyone could stop him.

Victor Bellini stood twenty feet away.

Sixty-three.

Gray beard.

Dark coat.

Alive.

Adrian walked down the path.

Slowly.

Victor stopped.

Neither man spoke.

Then Adrian hit him.

One punch.

Victor fell.

Mr. Holt moved forward.

Thomas blocked him with a shovel.

“Not today.”

Victor touched his lip.

Blood.

Then looked at Adrian.

“I deserved that.”

Adrian stared.

“I buried you.”

“I know.”

“I stood beside your coffin.”

“I know.”

“I gave the eulogy.”

Victor looked down.

“I heard it.”

Adrian’s expression changed.

“What?”

Victor stood.

“I was in the church.”

Catherine whispered from behind us:

“Victor.”

He looked at her.

Fourteen years of history passed between them without words.

Adrian noticed.

“You knew he was alive?”

Catherine did not answer.

Adrian turned.

“Mother.”

“Yes.”

He closed his eyes.

Then looked at both parents.

“You let me bury both of you while you were alive.”

Victor said:

“I did not have a choice.”

Adrian laughed.

“You all say that.”

Mr. Holt stepped closer.

“We need to leave.”

Adrian looked at him.

“No.”

“People are coming.”

“Whose people?”

Mr. Holt glanced at Victor.

Adrian saw it.

“Whose?”

Victor answered.

“My father’s old network.”

Adrian stared.

“Grandfather is dead.”

“Yes.”

“Then who runs it?”

Victor looked at Serena.

Her face changed.

Adrian turned.

“No.”

Serena whispered:

“I didn’t know.”

Mr. Holt closed his eyes.

Victor said:

“Her uncle.”

Serena stared.

“My uncle Daniel?”

“Yes.”

The man who had toasted their engagement six hours earlier.

The man who called Adrian son.

The man who had hugged Thomas before asking Serena whether the gardener had been fired.

Adrian looked at Serena.

“You knew your father had secrets.”

“Yes.”

“Did you know Daniel?”

“No.”

Victor continued.

“Daniel Holt inherited the accounts when your grandfather died.”

Mr. Holt spoke:

“And he forced me to keep them open.”

Serena stared at her father.

“You told me you were retired.”

“I tried.”

Victor laughed bitterly.

“Daniel does not allow retirement.”

Catherine handed Adrian a second file.

“This is why I wrote.”

Inside were shipping ledgers.

Ports.

Containers.

Cash transfers.

Daniel Holt’s initials.

And another name.

Victor Bellini.

Adrian looked at his father.

“You were still involved after Grandfather died.”

Victor nodded.

“For a while.”

“How long?”

“Four years.”

Adrian’s face went cold.

“So you weren’t just protecting me.”

“No.”

“You were protecting yourself.”

Victor did not deny it.

That mattered.

Adrian looked at Catherine.

“And you trusted him again?”

“No.”

Victor flinched.

Catherine continued.

“I used him.”

Adrian frowned.

“For what?”

“To get records.”

Thomas said quietly:

“Victor has been feeding her information for two years.”

Adrian stared.

Then a sound came from the road.

Engines.

More than one.

Thomas looked outside.

Three black SUVs.

Victor whispered:

“Daniel.”

Catherine moved immediately.

“Back door.”

Adrian grabbed the files.

Serena grabbed her father’s hand.

He pulled away.

“You go.”

“What?”

“I brought them here.”

Serena stared.

“You knew they were following?”

“Yes.”

Her face changed.

“You used me.”

Mr. Holt’s eyes filled.

“To get Daniel away from New York.”

Silence.

Thomas frowned.

“What is in New York?”

Mr. Holt looked at Adrian.

“The real safe.”

Adrian stared.

“The one under the roses was not the original?”

“No.”

Catherine whispered:

“Michael.”

Mr. Holt nodded.

“Your mother made two.”

Adrian looked at Catherine.

“What is in the other one?”

She answered:

“Everything.”

Gunshots hit the cottage.

Windows shattered.

Thomas shouted.

We ran through the kitchen.

Victor pulled a hidden panel open.

A tunnel led beneath the cliff.

Adrian looked at his mother.

“You built this?”

“No.”

Catherine looked at Victor.

“He did.”

Victor said:

“I always hoped I would get one thing right.”

We entered the tunnel.

Behind us, the cottage door broke open.

Then Daniel Holt’s voice echoed through the house.

“Serena!”

She stopped.

Her father pushed her forward.

“Do not answer.”

She stared at him.

He whispered:

“I already lost enough people to this family.”

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Then he closed the tunnel door behind us.

From the other side came a single gunshot.