Chapter 11 - The Man I Used to Be
At 1:37, I stood in my office with a pen in my hand.
The original agreement lay on the desk.
Ewan watched me.
“You’re not going alone.”
“Yes.”
“No.”
“She asked for me.”
“She’s going to kill you.”
“Eventually everyone develops a hobby.”
“This isn’t funny.”
“Nothing about you being alive has improved your sense of humor.”
He grabbed the agreement.
I took it back.
“Listen to me.”
“No, you listen.”
His voice cracked.
“I spent six years hiding because I thought isolation kept people safe.”
He pointed toward the door where Delia should have been.
“I was wrong.”
I said nothing.
Ewan continued.
“You don’t save people by cutting them out of the decision.”
That sounded like Delia.
Probably because she had spent eleven months teaching him.
Arthur entered.
“I can get you inside.”
Ewan turned.
“How?”
“I know the mansion.”
“Celeste will expect that.”
“She will.”
Arthur placed a blueprint on the desk.
“But she won’t expect the old elevator.”
Marcus came in behind him.
I looked at Marcus.
Twenty years of friendship.
One terrible betrayal.
Four years trying to repair it without telling me.
He said, “Whatever you decide about me, decide later.”
“You assume there’s a later.”
“There better be.”
I looked around the room.
Ewan.
Arthur.
Marcus.
Three men I had reasons not to trust.
Three men I needed.
Maybe that was family.
Maybe that was leadership.
Maybe I had spent too many years confusing fear with loyalty.
I picked up the contract.
“There’s something else.”
Everyone waited.
“I called Ray Calder.”
Marcus blinked.
“The dock scheduler?”
“He knows every old freight system connected to Vandermark property.”
Ewan smiled slightly.
“The man you let disappear.”
“He owes me.”
“You said you don’t collect debts from fathers.”
“I didn’t.”
I checked my watch.
“He volunteered.”
At 1:58, I walked through the front entrance of the Vandermark mansion alone.
At least that was what Celeste believed.
The ballroom had been prepared for our wedding tasting three nights earlier.
White flowers still stood on the tables.
Candles.
Crystal.
A string quartet’s empty chairs.
Delia sat in the center of the dance floor.
Hands tied.
Celeste stood behind her.
August Vandermark waited beside the fireplace.
He smiled.
“Damian.”
“August.”
“You brought it?”
I held up the folder.
“Yes.”
Celeste looked beautiful.
That was almost insulting.
Some people reveal themselves physically when the mask comes off.
Not Celeste.
She looked exactly like the woman I had intended to marry.
That was the lesson.
The mask had never been a mask.
I had simply loved what I wanted to see.
August gestured toward a table.
“Sign.”
I looked at Delia.
Blood marked one corner of her mouth.
She shook her head.
“No.”
Celeste pulled her hair.
“Quiet.”
I looked at Celeste.
“If you touch her again, this ends badly.”
“For whom?”
“Yes.”
August sighed.
“Always theater.”
He slid a pen across the table.
“You built a reputation on knowing when resistance was expensive, Damian.”
I sat.
“And you built yours on hiding behind lawyers.”
“Yet here we are.”
I opened the agreement.
Celeste leaned closer.
I signed.
Her eyes widened slightly.
August smiled.
Then I signed the second page.
Third.
Fourth.
When I finished, Celeste snatched the folder.
She checked the signatures.
Her face changed.
“What is this?”
August took it.
Then his expression darkened.
I stood.
“You asked for Damian Vale’s signature.”
Celeste stared.
I smiled.
“You should have asked which Damian Vale.”
Arthur had found the original birth records.
My legal name at birth had been Damian Michael Vale.
But after a sealed childhood guardianship dispute, my father had legally changed it to Damian Malcolm Vale.
The old contract specified Damian Michael Vale.
A man who legally no longer existed.
The signatures were worthless.
August’s face twisted.
“You think you’re clever.”
“No.”
I looked at Delia.
“I think I’m done being predictable.”
Then the mansion lights went out.
Ewan’s voice came through the darkness.
“Good.”
May you like
Celeste screamed.
And somewhere beneath the floor, the old freight elevator began to rise.
