Chapter 2 - THE VOICE ON THE TAPE
His name was Walter Briggs.
Seventeen years earlier, Briggs had been head of security for Ellison Textiles.
Officially, he died six months after my father.
Car accident in Pennsylvania.
Except the man on our security footage looked remarkably alive.
Adrian sent teams downstairs.
Briggs was gone.
The maintenance uniform was found in a laundry closet.
No fingerprints.
No phone.
Nothing.
I looked at Grant.
“You recognized him.”
“No.”
“You dropped your glass.”
“I saw a dead man walking through your building.”
“That's not what I asked.”
Grant stepped toward me.
“Marcus, be very careful.”
“Is that advice or a threat?”
His face changed.
“I'm your brother.”
For most of my life, that sentence had ended arguments.
Not anymore.
I turned to Adrian.
“The tape.”
We still had no cassette player.
Apparently there were limits to billionaire preparedness.
Rosa quietly spoke.
“I have one.”
Everyone turned.
She immediately looked uncomfortable.
“My grandmother sends Lily stories on tapes sometimes. She doesn't like smartphones.”
It was such an ordinary explanation in the middle of insanity that I almost laughed.
Twenty minutes later, Rosa returned from her apartment with a battered silver cassette player covered in stickers.
A cartoon rabbit.
A rainbow.
A glittering dinosaur.
We put the tape inside.
Grant refused to leave.
Diana refused to leave.
I almost removed both.
Then I pressed play.
Static.
A click.
Then my father's voice.
I hadn't heard it in seventeen years.
“Marcus.”
My knees nearly failed.
Grant whispered:
“Dad?”
The recording continued.
“If you're hearing this, then Thomas either found the courage to come back, or something has gone terribly wrong.”
I sat.
My father sounded tired.
Older than I remembered.
“First, Thomas Vale did not steal from this company.”
Diana covered her mouth.
“He discovered the theft.”
Grant looked at me.
Neither of us spoke.
“The missing eleven million is part of something larger. Much larger. Someone inside Ellison is using our freight contracts to move money through shell suppliers.”
My heart pounded.
“I confronted the person responsible. That was a mistake.”
A pause.
“If anything happens to me, do not assume Thomas did it.”
Then my father said:
“Marcus, trust Grant.”
My brother exhaled.
For one second, relief flooded his face.
Then the tape continued.
“But do not trust him blindly.”
Grant's relief vanished.
“You boys have spent your entire lives believing blood makes loyalty automatic. It doesn't.”
Static swallowed several seconds.
Then:
“There is a ledger. Thomas knows where.”
The tape clicked off.
That was it.
I replayed it.
Same ending.
Diana whispered:
“My father has the ledger.”
“Where is he?”
“I don't know.”
“Diana.”
“I don't.”
I believed her.
That irritated me more than if I hadn't.
She explained.
Thomas Vale had spent seventeen years living under false names.
He contacted Diana irregularly through encrypted messages.
She had seen him twice since childhood.
The last time she was nineteen.
“Why did you tell everyone he died?”
“Because that's what he asked me to say.”
“And why did you approach me?”
There.
The question she had been avoiding.
Diana stared at her engagement ring.
“We met at the Caldwell Foundation gala.”
“I remember.”
“No.”
Her voice broke.
“You remember what I wanted you to remember.”
My stomach dropped.
“I knew you'd be there.”
Grant swore.
I said nothing.
“I arranged our introduction.”
“How?”
“I donated enough money to get seated beside you.”
“Whose money?”
“My father's.”
I laughed.
It sounded ugly.
“So the relationship was a setup.”
“At first.”
“Don't.”
“Marcus—”
“Do not tell me you fell in love with me.”
“But I did.”
“Convenient.”
“I know.”
“Were you investigating me?”
“Yes.”
That hurt more than I expected.
“For your father?”
“Yes.”
“What did you find?”
Her eyes filled.
“That you weren't the man he thought you were.”
“And what man was that?”
“Someone who knew.”
“Knew what?”
“About the money.”
I stood.
“Get out.”
“Marcus—”
“Not because you're Thomas Vale's daughter.”
I looked at the ring.
“Because every morning for three years, you woke beside me knowing our first meeting was a lie.”
She slowly removed the ring.
Placed it on the table.
“I understand.”
She walked toward the elevator.
Then stopped beside Rosa.
“I'm sorry I spoke to you the way I did earlier.”
Rosa looked surprised.
Diana looked at Lily.
“And I'm sorry I scared you.”
Lily hid behind her mother.
Diana left.
Grant waited until the elevator closed.
“You're not actually considering believing her.”
“Dad believed Thomas.”
“Dad also died.”
I looked at him.
“Interesting choice of words.”
Grant's face hardened.
“Go to hell.”
He left too.
That left Rosa standing awkwardly in my living room with Lily asleep against her shoulder.
“I should go.”
“Rosa.”
She stopped.
“Thank you.”
“For what?”
“Your daughter.”
Rosa looked down at Lily.
“She sees everything.”
“Apparently.”
A sad smile touched her face.
“People don't notice children when they're busy believing children don't notice them.”
That sentence stayed with me.
Then Rosa added:
“Adults too.”
I looked at her.
She immediately regretted saying it.
“What does that mean?”
“Nothing.”
“Rosa.”
She sighed.
“I've worked in this penthouse for fourteen months.”
“Yes.”
“You have asked me three personal questions.”
I frowned.
“Have I?”
“You asked whether I preferred Tuesdays or Thursdays off. Whether Lily's daycare stayed open during snowstorms. And once whether I was allergic to shellfish.”
I felt embarrassed.
She continued quietly.
“Mrs. Caldwell knows my name because it appears on the payroll sheet.”
“Diana.”
“Diana knows my name.”
Rosa adjusted Lily.
“But she never knew anything else about me.”
I didn't understand why she was telling me this.
Then she said:
“Mr. Grant does.”
My body went still.
“What does Grant know?”
“My last name.”
“Everyone knows your last name.”
“No.”
She looked directly at me.
“You call me Rosa Alvarez.”
“Yes.”
“My legal surname is Alvarez-Briggs.”
Briggs.
My eyes moved toward the frozen security image.
Walter Briggs.
Rosa whispered:
May you like
“He's my father.”
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