Chapter 5 - Thomas Vane Finally Admitted What He Ordered

No one moved.

Lucian held the silent phone.

Then looked at Thomas.

“Tell me he lied.”

Elena’s father did not answer.

Lucian stepped closer.

“Tell me.”

Thomas closed his eyes.

“I ordered the explosion.”

Elena gasped.

Patrick stared.

Lucian’s expression emptied.

“You tried to kill my father.”

“No.”

“You just admitted it.”

“I ordered the car destroyed.”

“With him in it?”

“No.”

Thomas shook his head.

“He was already gone.”

Lucian stared.

Thomas continued.

“The explosion was part of the extraction.”

Patrick looked stunned.

“You never told me.”

“You were not cleared.”

Patrick laughed bitterly.

“I buried the car.”

Thomas looked at Lucian.

“The body inside was not your father.”

Lucian’s face hardened.

“Whose body?”

Silence.

Thomas looked away.

Lucian’s voice dropped.

“Whose?”

“A man Kessler provided.”

Patrick went pale.

“You used a corpse.”

Thomas nodded.

Lucian stared.

“Who was he?”

“I did not know then.”

“And now?”

Thomas swallowed.

“A missing accountant.”

Lucian said nothing.

Thomas continued.

“Kessler said the body was unclaimed.”

Patrick shook his head.

“It was not.”

Thomas looked at him.

Patrick pulled a folded report from the satchel.

Name.

Evan Cole.

Thirty-six.

Married.

One daughter.

Lucian looked at Thomas.

“You faked my father’s death using another man’s body.”

Thomas’s face broke.

“Yes.”

Lucian stepped away.

Elena whispered:

“Dad.”

Thomas said:

“I thought I was saving one life.”

Lucian looked at him.

“You stole another family’s dead.”

“No excuse.”

“Good.”

Thomas nodded.

Lucian looked at Patrick.

“Find Evan Cole’s family.”

Patrick nodded.

“Today.”

Thomas continued.

“There is more.”

Lucian laughed.

“Of course.”

Thomas looked at Elena.

She shook her head.

“Not another secret.”

He ignored her.

“Kessler selected the body.”

Lucian stared.

“And?”

“The accountant worked for Morel Holdings.”

Lucian’s expression changed.

“Which division?”

“Internal audit.”

Silence.

Patrick understood.

“He found something.”

Thomas nodded.

Lucian asked:

“What?”

Thomas looked at the old bank records.

“Kessler’s transfers.”

Lucian stared.

“So Kessler killed him.”

“I believe so.”

“And used his body to fake my father’s death.”

“Yes.”

Lucian’s jaw tightened.

“Efficient.”

No one liked the word.

Patrick found another envelope in the satchel.

Evan Cole’s handwriting.

A copy of an audit memo.

One account repeated throughout.

MV-17.

Lucian frowned.

“Vane?”

Thomas shook his head.

“No.”

Patrick looked closer.

“Morel Venture Seventeen.”

Lucian opened the attached ownership page.

Beneficiary hidden.

But one signature appeared.

Elena Vane.

Silence.

Lucian slowly looked at her.

She went pale.

“No.”

He placed the page in front of her.

“Your signature.”

“I have never seen this.”

Thomas grabbed the paper.

He stared.

“That is her signature.”

Elena looked at him.

“I did not sign it.”

Lucian asked:

“Who could reproduce it?”

Thomas went still.

Patrick looked at him.

“Kessler.”

Elena stared.

Thomas whispered:

“He processed her security clearances when she was eighteen.”

Lucian’s eyes narrowed.

“Fingerprints?”

“Yes.”

“Signatures?”

“Yes.”

“Identity documents?”

“Yes.”

Patrick looked sick.

Lucian stared at Elena.

“So Kessler created an account in your name.”

She whispered:

“Why?”

Lucian turned back to the documents.

Then stopped.

One transfer.

Ten months earlier.

Three million dollars.

Sent from MV-17.

To a private clinic in Prague.

Lucian’s face changed.

“The clinic.”

Patrick looked at him.

“Your father.”

Lucian nodded.

Elena covered her mouth.

Lucian read the payment authorization.

ELENA VANE.

He looked at her.

“You paid for my father’s treatment.”

“I did not.”

Thomas frowned.

“Then Kessler did.”

Patrick stared.

“Why would he keep Morel alive?”

No one answered.

Lucian looked at the date.

Three million.

Then another transfer.

Two weeks later.

To the same clinic.

Then one final payment.

The day before Lucian’s father died.

Lucian’s eyes sharpened.

Not a clinic invoice.

A private laboratory.

Thomas went pale.

Lucian looked at him.

“What?”

Thomas whispered:

“That laboratory does toxicology.”

Silence.

Lucian stared at the final payment.

Then at Elena.

“Kessler did not keep my father alive.”

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His voice became quiet.

“He was measuring how long it took to kill him.”