Chapter 6 - THE SON HE COULDN’T BUY
Alexander chose an unfinished Wexler medical campus outside Austin.
A fitting location.
One of the very projects Silver Meridian had secretly financed.
Federal agents wanted control.
Grant wanted Mason.
Mariana wanted both.
“You are not going inside,” Grant told her.
She stared at him.
“Try that sentence again.”
He stopped.
Five years ago, he might have ordered security to remove her.
Now he understood.
“Then we go together.”
“Better.”
They brought a case.
Inside:
Fake DNA originals.
Fake toxicology reports.
Tracking devices.
The real evidence already existed in federal systems.
Alexander either didn't know that or believed destroying the originals would weaken prosecution.
The campus was dark.
Mason sat in an unfinished lobby.
A blanket around him.
Alexander stood behind him.
Mariana saw Grant's resemblance immediately.
Same height.
Same eyes.
But where Grant's face held strain, Alexander's held amusement.
“Mariana.”
“Let him go.”
“Eventually.”
Mason saw them.
“Mom!”
Alexander gripped his shoulder.
Grant's entire body tensed.
“Take your hand off him.”
Alexander smiled.
“You really did become sentimental.”
“I'm going to say it once.”
“You always did sound like Dad when you were angry.”
Grant placed the case down.
“Evidence first.”
Alexander nodded toward it.
One of his men checked.
“Looks right.”
Mariana stepped forward.
“Now Mason.”
Alexander looked at her.
“You survived prison better than I expected.”
She stared.
“You watched?”
“I received reports.”
“Why?”
“Because people who feel wrongly accused can become inconvenient.”
“People who are wrongly accused usually do.”
He smiled.
“I understand why Grant liked you.”
Grant's jaw tightened.
Alexander continued.
“You know the funniest part?”
“No.”
“You weren't supposed to get five years.”
Mariana's blood chilled.
“What?”
“The first plea would have solved everything.”
“Eighteen months.”
“Yes.”
“But I refused the confidentiality clause.”
“Exactly.”
“So you planted more evidence.”
“Malcolm did.”
“On your orders.”
Alexander shrugged.
“Semantics.”
Grant whispered:
“You stole almost five years from her.”
Alexander looked at his brother.
“And Mother stole twenty from me.”
“No. You chose this.”
“You don't know what Dad did.”
“He wanted you accountable.”
“He wanted me erased.”
“He wanted you to stop stealing.”
Alexander laughed.
“There he is. The righteous son.”
Grant did something unexpected.
He nodded.
“No.”
Alexander paused.
Grant continued.
“I spent years signing deals I didn't examine because Malcolm told me they were fine. I believed Mariana was guilty because reviewing the case would have been inconvenient. I let Mom make decisions in my name.”
He looked at Mariana.
“I've done enough hiding from what I chose.”
Alexander's smile faded.
“You think confession makes you noble?”
“No.”
“It makes you weak.”
Grant looked toward Mason.
“Maybe.”
Then he smiled slightly.
“But you made one mistake.”
Alexander frowned.
“What?”
“You think I came here to protect the Wexler name.”
Sirens erupted outside.
Alexander spun.
Federal agents flooded the property.
His men reached for weapons.
Grant grabbed Mason.
Mariana tackled the gun arm of the man nearest her.
A shot hit the ceiling.
Glass shattered.
Grant pulled Mason behind a concrete wall.
Alexander ran.
Mariana saw him heading toward a service corridor.
She screamed:
“GRANT!”
Agents followed.
Alexander reached the parking structure.
A vehicle waited.
He opened the door.
Then froze.
Victoria Wexler sat behind the wheel.
His mother.
Alexander stared.
“What are you doing?”
Victoria was crying.
“The thing I should have done twenty years ago.”
She had contacted federal investigators that morning.
She had agreed to cooperate.
Alexander stepped backward.
“You chose him.”
Victoria shook her head.
“No.”
She looked toward Grant approaching behind the agents.
“I chose truth too late.”
Alexander's face twisted.
He raised his weapon.
An agent tackled him before he fired.
He hit the concrete.
Handcuffs closed around his wrists.
The man who had been dead for twenty years was finally arrested in front of the mother who had destroyed two generations trying to save him.
Mariana barely watched.
She ran back to Mason.
He was crying in Grant's arms.
She took him.
“Mommy.”
“I'm here.”
“I knew you'd come.”
She held him so tightly he complained.
Then Grant wrapped both of them in his arms.
For several seconds, none of them cared who was watching.
Later, Mason fell asleep in the ambulance.
Grant sat beside Mariana.
“What happens now?”
She looked at him.
“To Alexander?”
“To us.”
She knew what he meant.
“You don't get a family because a DNA report says so.”
“I know.”
“You get the chance to build one.”
Grant nodded.
“What does that look like?”
“For now?”
“Yes.”
“Breakfast.”
He almost laughed.
“Breakfast?”
“Mason likes pancakes shaped like dinosaurs.”
“That's impossible.”
“It isn't.”
“Have you made one?”
“No.”
“Then how do you know?”
“He's four. He doesn't inspect craftsmanship.”
Grant smiled.
The smile disappeared when an agent approached.
“Mr. Wexler?”
“Yes?”
“We searched Alexander's vehicle.”
“And?”
“We found another set of documents.”
He handed Grant a folder.
Inside were adoption papers.
Prepared but never filed.
Grant read.
Then turned pale.
Mariana looked.
The proposed adoptive parent listed for Mason was Victoria Wexler.
“What is this?”
The agent explained.
Four years earlier, shortly before Mason aged out of the prison infant program, Victoria had explored privately obtaining custody if Mariana's parental rights were ever terminated.
Mariana stared at Victoria across the parking lot.
The woman hadn't only hidden Mason from Grant.
She had considered taking him for herself.
Grant's voice shook.
“Why?”
Victoria looked at Mason asleep against Mariana.
Her answer was barely audible.
“Because even after everything I did, he was my grandson.”
Mariana felt no sympathy.
“Then you should have given him his father.”
Victoria closed her eyes.
“I know.”
Mariana walked away.
May you like
Some apologies came too late to earn comfort.
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