Chapter 5 - THE UNCLE
Arthur sat in the interrogation room.
He looked nothing like the monster I had imagined.
He looked ordinary.
That made it worse.
He looked at me.
“You're your father's son.”
“Yes.”
He smiled.
“Your father was always stubborn.”
“What happened to him?”
Arthur leaned back.
“He survived.”
My heart stopped.
“Where is he?”
Arthur shook his head.
“I don't know.”
“You expect me to believe that?”
“I haven't seen him in years.”
“Then who does?”
Arthur smiled.
“Your mother.”
I stood.
“What?”
“She knows where he is.”
I returned home immediately.
My mother was gone.
Her phone was on the table.
Her car was missing.
Claire looked at me.
“She left.”
I checked the security footage.
My mother had packed one suitcase.
She hadn't run away.
She had gone somewhere deliberately.
Then I noticed the destination.
A small coastal town.
The same place where my father had spent his childhood.
We drove through the night.
At sunrise, we reached a small house near the water.
The door opened.
An older man stood inside.
Gray hair.
Thin face.
But I recognized him immediately.
My father.
I stopped breathing.
“Dad?”
His eyes filled with tears.
“My son.”
I ran inside.
He hugged me.
For the first time in years, I felt like a child again.
I cried against his shoulder.
“Why did you let me believe you were dead?”
“Because I had to.”
“Why?”
“Because Arthur wanted you.”
I looked at him.
“Why me?”
He pointed toward Claire.
“Because your wife inherited the key.”
“What key?”
My father opened a drawer.
Inside was a small brass key.
Claire recognized it.
“It belonged to my grandmother.”
My father nodded.
“Your grandmother knew the truth.”
“What truth?”
“The company was never just a company.”
He placed a map on the table.
The Carter-Hayes family had secretly owned land beneath several major developments.
The property rights were worth billions.
That was what Arthur wanted.
That was what my mother had been protecting.
And that was why Claire's inheritance mattered.
My father looked at us.
“Arthur will never stop.”
I asked:
“Then how do we stop him?”
My father smiled sadly.
“By giving him what he wants.”
I frowned.
May you like
“What?”
“The deed.”
