Chapter 7 - THE MAN WHO CALLED MY SON A LIAR
Sebastian entered the James Maritime boardroom like a man who still believed he owned the room.
Twelve directors sat around the table.
Lawyers lined the walls.
Gabriel stood beside me.
Elizabeth remained in Brooklyn with Alex.
That was the only reason I could think clearly.
Sebastian looked at me.
“Andrew.”
“Sebastian.”
No handshake.
Everyone noticed.
He began first.
“Four months ago, Andrew suffered an unimaginable loss.”
I almost smiled.
He was going to use Emma’s death against me after causing it.
That required a particular kind of arrogance.
Sebastian continued.
“Since then, grief has influenced his judgment.”
Documents appeared on screens.
My canceled meetings.
Reduced travel.
Private doctors entering the penthouse.
Elizabeth’s employment record.
“She entered his home under false pretenses.”
One director looked toward me.
“Is that true?”
“Yes.”
Murmurs.
I did not hide it.
Sebastian smiled faintly.
“Ms. Brown is not a housekeeper. She has a background in pediatric therapy and a personal connection to Andrew’s late wife.”
“Also true.”
“And since her arrival, Andrew’s five-year-old son has begun making allegations against longtime members of this organization.”
I leaned back.
“Say his name.”
Sebastian paused.
“What?”
“My son.”
I looked at him.
“You keep calling him ‘Andrew’s son.’ His name is Alex.”
Sebastian’s jaw tightened.
“Alex is grieving.”
“Yes.”
“He is vulnerable to suggestion.”
“Possibly.”
“He has barely spoken for months.”
“Yes.”
“And yet everyone here is apparently expected to believe fragmented statements from a traumatized five-year-old.”
The room went cold.
There it was.
He finally said it.
My son was unreliable.
My son was confused.
My son was a problem.
I folded my hands.
“No.”
Sebastian blinked.
“No what?”
“They’re not expected to believe Alex.”
I nodded to Gabriel.
“They can believe bank records.”
The first screen changed.
Transfers.
Shell companies.
Dates.
Signatures.
Sebastian’s face remained controlled.
“Fabricated.”
Gabriel smiled.
“I was hoping you’d say that.”
External auditors entered.
Not mine.
A national accounting firm.
They confirmed the transfers.
Forty-three million.
Then another eleven million we had not known about.
Sebastian’s smile disappeared.
One director whispered:
“Jesus Christ.”
I continued.
“They can also believe security logs.”
Deleted footage.
Administrator access.
Sebastian.
“They can believe corporate ownership filings.”
Shell companies.
Sebastian.
“They can believe his secret meetings with Vincent Marino.”
Photographs appeared.
Sebastian finally stood.
“You had me followed?”
“Yes.”
“You don’t trust me?”
I looked at him.
“My wife did.”
That landed.
“And she died for it.”
Half the board stopped breathing.
Sebastian laughed.
“You’re accusing me of murder in a corporate meeting?”
“No.”
I nodded toward the glass wall.
Detective Bennett entered.
“I’m letting someone else do that.”
Sebastian’s face changed.
For the first time, fear.
Only a flash.
Then he recovered.
“Detective, whatever Andrew told you—”
“We have a warrant for your electronic devices.”
His attorney stood immediately.
The room exploded into voices.
Sebastian looked at me.
“You think this ends with me?”
“No.”
“It destroys everything.”
“What?”
He pointed toward the city outside.
“What your father built.”
There it was.
My father.
The old argument.
The empire.
The name.
The fear.
“You’ve already started cooperating with outsiders,” Sebastian said. “You think the Marinos won’t smell weakness?”
“I’m done caring what the Marinos smell.”
People stared.
Sebastian stared harder.
“What does that mean?”
“It means James Maritime remains legitimate.”
“And the rest?”
Silence.
Every man in the room knew what “the rest” meant.
I thought about Emma.
I know who he wants to be.
Then Alex.
Help Daddy.
“The rest ends.”
Someone actually dropped a pen.
Sebastian laughed.
“You can’t walk away.”
“Watch me.”
“You’ll start a war.”
“Then I’ll cooperate with every investigation necessary to prevent one.”
His face twisted.
“You would hand over your father’s life’s work?”
“My father’s life’s work nearly cost me my son.”
I stood.
“I’m choosing Alex.”
For once, saying it felt easy.
Detective Bennett moved toward Sebastian.
He stepped backward.
Then his attorney spoke.
“My client is not under arrest.”
“Not yet.”
“You have a device warrant, not an arrest warrant.”
Sebastian smiled again.
Small.
Victorious.
He walked out.
Legally, we could not stop him.
That lasted forty-three minutes.
Then the forensic lab matched material from Emma’s car to equipment found at Sebastian’s shell-company garage.
Probable cause.
Arrest warrant issued.
But Sebastian had disappeared.
His apartment was empty.
His driver abandoned a car near the Lincoln Tunnel.
His phone went dead.
Vincent Marino vanished too.
I returned to Brooklyn.
Alex was asleep.
Elizabeth sat at the kitchen table.
“You ended it?”
“The criminal operations?”
“Yes.”
“I announced it.”
“And?”
“Half the board thinks I’m insane.”
“Are you?”
“Frequently.”
She almost smiled.
Then her expression became serious.
“Sebastian?”
“Gone.”
She looked toward the staircase.
“He’ll come for the evidence.”
“What evidence?”
“Emma said there was more in the kitchen.”
“We found the book.”
“She called the book the first layer.”
I stared.
“How do you know?”
“Another message.”
I was going to lose my mind.
“How many scheduled messages did my wife create?”
“Emma was organized.”
“She was terrifying.”
“Yes.”
Elizabeth opened her phone.
Emma again.
“If Andrew finds the green book, he’ll know about the money. But Sebastian will say numbers can be forged.”
Exactly what happened.
“The second piece is something only Alex can find.”
My stomach tightened.
“I didn’t want to tell you because Emma specifically said not to pressure him.”
The recording continued.
“I made it part of a game. If Alex remembers snow in the kitchen, he may remember where we buried the treasure.”
Snow.
Flour.
Buried.
I stood.
“The floor.”
Elizabeth nodded.
“Possibly.”
I called Detective Bennett.
Within an hour, the penthouse became an evidence scene.
Alex did not come.
I refused.
We returned to the flour-covered kitchen.
The mess had been mostly cleaned, but faint white powder remained along the cabinets.
Detectives examined the loose tiles.
Nothing beneath them besides the recipe-book cavity.
Then I remembered Alex waving his arms.
Making a snow angel.
His head had been near the refrigerator.
I knelt.
There was flour beneath it.
I pulled the appliance forward.
Behind it, one baseboard panel looked slightly newer.
Detective Bennett removed it.
Inside the wall was a narrow steel box.
“Emma,” I whispered.
The detective opened it.
A flash drive.
A handwritten ledger.
A small digital recorder.
And a sealed envelope.
FOR ANDREW — WHEN HE IS READY TO CHOOSE.
My throat tightened.
Then the private elevator chimed.
Every detective turned.
The system had been locked.
No one should have been able to access it.
Marcus reached for his radio.
The doors opened.
Sebastian stepped out.
Alone.
He looked exhausted.
Suit wrinkled.
No weapon visible.
His eyes went immediately to the steel box.
“You found it.”
Detective Bennett stepped forward.
“Sebastian Cole, don’t move.”
He laughed quietly.
Then looked at me.
“Do you know what’s on that drive?”
“No.”
“I do.”
“Good.”
I looked toward Detective Bennett.
“You can explain it downtown.”
Sebastian’s eyes hardened.
“You think Emma was protecting you?”
“She was protecting Alex.”
“She was preparing to destroy you.”
For one second, doubt hit.
Sebastian saw it.
“She recorded everything, Andrew.”
He smiled.
“Not just me.”
And as officers moved toward him, Sebastian delivered one final blow.
May you like
“Ask yourself why your wife needed evidence against her own husband.”
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