Chapter 7 - The House in Maine

Anna’s house was four hours away.

Vincent called local police.

No answer from the first number.

The second dispatcher transferred him.

The third officer finally understood.

By then, Adrian had already left the shipyard.

He had not been arrested.

No warrant.

No direct evidence available on site.

Vincent hated that.

Henry didn’t.

“Angry men make mistakes when they think they escaped.”

Vincent looked at him.

“You sound experienced.”

“I drove ferries for fifty-one years.”

“What does that have to do with criminals?”

“People behave badly around departure times.”

No one argued.

We reached Maine after dark.

Police had secured Anna’s house.

Nothing stolen.

At least nothing obvious.

The bedroom was untouched.

Kitchen untouched.

Office searched.

One floorboard removed.

Anna stared at the empty space.

“No.”

Vincent looked at her.

“What was there?”

She sat down.

“Michael’s last ledger.”

Thomas closed his eyes.

Rebecca asked:

“What ledger?”

Anna answered:

“The one showing which companies were placed in Vincent’s name.”

Vincent’s jaw tightened.

“Adrian took it.”

“No.”

A police officer entered.

“We found this in the garden.”

A black folder.

Empty.

Anna looked confused.

“The ledger was inside that.”

Vincent frowned.

“So someone took the pages and left the cover.”

Henry looked at the window.

“Or someone wanted Adrian to think they did.”

Anna stared at him.

Then walked to the kitchen.

She opened the freezer.

Removed a bag of frozen peas.

Behind it—

A waterproof envelope.

Vincent almost laughed.

“You hid the real ledger behind peas.”

Anna nodded.

“Michael hated obvious hiding places.”

Henry smiled.

“I like him more every time.”

Inside were corporate records.

Dozens of entities.

Dates.

Amounts.

Signatures.

Vincent’s name appeared repeatedly.

A minor.

Then teenager.

Then adult.

Proxy director.

Beneficiary.

Controlling interest.

Without his knowledge.

Rebecca looked at him.

“He really built it around you.”

“Yes.”

Thomas pointed at one column.

“These transfers.”

Anna nodded.

“Michael reversed them.”

“Most.”

Vincent looked.

One company remained.

BELLINI MARITIME HOLDINGS.

Active.

He frowned.

“I own this?”

Thomas stared.

“No.”

“You control it.”

“Difference?”

“About three hundred million dollars.”

Silence.

Vincent looked at the page.

“What does it own?”

Henry answered.

“Ferries.”

Everyone turned.

“Ports.”

“Fuel contracts.”

“Island property.”

Vincent stared at the captain.

“You knew.”

“I suspected.”

“Why does Adrian care about one maritime company?”

Thomas looked at the manifest.

“Because that company owns the island.”

Anna nodded.

“And the island owns something else.”

Vincent stared.

“What?”

“A private data vault.”

Rebecca frowned.

“What kind of data?”

Anna answered:

“Financial archives.”

“Recordings.”

“Contracts.”

“Blackmail.”

Vincent’s expression hardened.

“My grandfather’s archive.”

“Yes.”

“And Adrian wants it.”

“Yes.”

Thomas whispered:

“He needs ownership access.”

Vincent looked at the ledger.

“He can’t get it without me.”

“No.”

Anna shook her head.

“Unless you die.”

Silence.

Vincent stared.

“If I die, who inherits?”

Thomas looked at Rebecca.

Her face changed.

“No.”

Vincent followed his eyes.

“Rebecca?”

Thomas whispered:

“Your engagement agreement.”

Vincent froze.

There had been a prenuptial structure.

Drafted months earlier.

Rebecca’s father had reviewed it.

Thomas looked sick.

“If Vincent dies after marriage, certain maritime interests pass to his spouse.”

Rebecca stared.

“But we aren’t married.”

Anna whispered:

“Adrian doesn’t need the marriage.”

Vincent understood.

“He needs the agreement executed.”

Rebecca shook her head.

“I never signed the final version.”

Thomas looked at her.

“I did.”

Silence.

“Dad?”

“As your trustee on an old family vehicle.”

Rebecca stepped backward.

“You signed something in my name?”

“I thought it protected you.”

Vincent laughed bitterly.

“There it is again.”

Protection.

Fear.

Choice stolen.

Rebecca looked at her father.

“You used my name the same way they used Vincent’s.”

Thomas had no answer.

Vincent’s phone rang.

Adrian.

He answered.

Adrian’s voice was calm.

“You found the ledger.”

“Yes.”

“Then you know where we go next.”

“The island.”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“To finish what your father failed to do.”

Vincent looked at Anna.

“What?”

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Adrian replied:

“Choose who owns the truth.”