Chapter 3 - THE GRAVE THAT SHOULD HAVE BEEN EMPTY
Sophia stared at the photograph until the gunfire stopped.
Her father was sitting in a chair.
A newspaper rested beside him.
She could see the date clearly.
Three days after his supposed death.
“No.”
Her voice sounded distant.
Adrian took the phone from her.
“This can be manipulated.”
“That’s his watch.”
“Sophia—”
“He wore that watch every day for thirty years.”
She grabbed the phone again.
Her father’s left hand rested on the arm of the chair. A pale scar crossed his thumb, the result of a kitchen accident when Sophia was nine.
She knew that scar.
She knew the slope of his shoulders.
She knew the tired expression he wore whenever he thought nobody was watching.
“That’s him.”
Adrian looked at Roman.
“Trace the number.”
“Already trying.”
Outside, tires screamed against gravel.
The attackers were leaving.
Adrian wanted to pursue them.
Sophia refused.
“We go to the cemetery.”
He looked at her.
“Now?”
“Now.”
“You want to dig up your father’s grave in the middle of the night while Victor Kane has people hunting us?”
“Yes.”
Adrian studied her.
Then he nodded.
“Fine.”
Damian groaned from behind the column.
Sophia almost forgot he was there.
The bullet had passed through his shoulder.
Nikolai had wrapped the wound.
Damian looked miserable.
“Take me with you.”
Sophia turned.
“Why?”
“Because if Victor finds me, I’m dead.”
“You made your choice.”
“I made a stupid choice.”
“You sold information that killed people.”
His face tightened.
“I know.”
“And you helped Victor get into our house.”
“I know.”
“And now my father might be alive.”
Damian lowered his head.
“I know.”
Sophia walked away.
Adrian followed.
Behind them, Damian said quietly, “I know where Charles kept the key.”
Sophia stopped.
“What key?”
Damian swallowed.
“The one to the ledger.”
Twenty minutes later, all five of them were inside two vehicles heading toward Saint Michael Cemetery.
Rain streaked across the windshield.
Sophia sat beside Adrian in the back.
She had stopped crying.
That worried him.
He had seen grief expressed through screaming, violence, denial, and silence.
Sophia’s silence felt different.
Controlled.
Dangerously controlled.
“You should sleep,” he said.
She laughed once.
“My dead father might not be dead.”
“I know.”
“My cousin helped a crime lord infiltrate my family.”
“Yes.”
“And the man pretending to be my fiancé apparently has enough enemies to populate a small country.”
“Probably a medium-sized country.”
She turned toward him.
“You make jokes at terrible times.”
“It keeps people from knowing when I’m afraid.”
The answer surprised her.
“You’re afraid?”
“Yes.”
“Of Victor?”
“No.”
“Then what?”
He looked at her.
“You.”
Sophia almost smiled.
“Very funny.”
“I’m serious.”
“Why?”
“Because when this started, you were useful.”
She looked away.
“And now?”
Adrian did not answer immediately.
“Now I’m making decisions I would have killed other men for making.”
“What decisions?”
“Keeping you beside me.”
Her heartbeat changed.
She hated that he could still affect her.
“You lied to me.”
“I did.”
“You used me.”
“Yes.”
“You’re dangerous.”
“Yes.”
“Stop agreeing with everything.”
“That would require you to be wrong.”
Despite herself, she laughed.
It lasted only a second.
But Adrian watched her as if he wanted to memorize the sound.
They reached the cemetery shortly before 3:00 a.m.
Saint Michael sat on a hill above the river.
Charles Laurent’s mausoleum stood near the northern wall.
Sophia unlocked the iron gate with the key from her father’s belongings.
Inside, fresh flowers still surrounded the stone coffin.
She touched his name.
CHARLES AUGUST LAURENT.
BELOVED FATHER.
1949–2026.
Her fingers trembled.
Adrian stood behind her.
“You don’t have to do this.”
“Yes, I do.”
Nikolai and Roman moved the stone covering.
Beneath it was the sealed coffin.
Damian remained near the entrance, pale from blood loss.
Roman broke the seal.
Sophia turned away when the lid opened.
Nobody spoke.
Finally, Adrian said, “Sophia.”
She looked.
The coffin was empty.
Not completely.
Inside lay a black envelope.
Her name was written across it in her father’s handwriting.
Sophia.
She reached inside.
The envelope contained a brass key and a folded letter.
Her hands shook as she opened it.
My darling Sophia,
If you are reading this, then someone has discovered that the funeral was a lie.
I am sorry.
I could not tell you.
The people involved were watching everything, including you.
The inheritance clause was never about marriage.
Sophia stopped.
She read that sentence again.
“What?”
Adrian moved beside her.
She continued.
It was designed to force Damian into action. I needed him to believe he was close enough to winning that he would reveal who was behind him.
Trust no member of the Laurent board.
Trust no police officer who approaches you first.
And most importantly, if Adrian Volkov has found you before I can return, do not assume he is your enemy.
Sophia’s eyes snapped toward Adrian.
He looked genuinely stunned.
She kept reading.
His father once saved my life.
Years later, I failed to save his.
That debt belongs to me, not to Adrian.
But the truth about what happened to Mikhail Volkov is inside Vault 317.
The key is enclosed.
Sophia stopped.
Adrian had gone motionless.
“My father knew yours?”
“Yes.”
“What happened to him?”
Adrian’s voice became cold.
“He was murdered.”
“When?”
“Twenty-two years ago.”
Sophia looked at the letter.
Her father’s final lines were shorter.
If I survive, I will find you.
If I do not, understand this:
The person responsible has been sitting at our family table for twenty years.
Sophia slowly looked toward Damian.
He raised both hands.
“Don’t look at me. I was twelve.”
Adrian took the letter.
“Vault 317.”
Damian nodded.
“Laurent Private Bank.”
Sophia frowned.
“My family sold that bank fifteen years ago.”
“No,” Damian said. “They sold the public company. The original vault facility still exists under the old courthouse.”
Adrian turned toward Roman.
“We go there.”
Roman did not answer.
He was staring at his phone.
“Boss.”
“What?”
“I traced the message.”
“And?”
Roman looked uncomfortable.
“It came from one of our secure numbers.”
Adrian’s expression changed.
“Whose?”
Roman swallowed.
“Nikolai’s.”
Everyone turned.
Nikolai stood beside the mausoleum entrance.
His weapon was already drawn.
But instead of pointing it at Adrian, he pointed it at Damian.
“Nikolai,” Adrian said quietly.
“Don’t.”
Nikolai’s eyes were wet.
Sophia had never seen fear on the giant man’s face before.
“I’m sorry, boss.”
Adrian stepped forward.
“Put the gun down.”
“I can’t.”
“Why?”
Nikolai looked toward Sophia.
“Because Charles Laurent isn’t hiding from Victor Kane.”
A terrible silence filled the mausoleum.
“He’s hiding from Adrian’s mother.”
Adrian stopped.
“My mother is dead.”
Nikolai shook his head.
“No, boss.”
May you like
His finger tightened on the trigger.
“She’s the one who started all of this.”
