Chapter 3 - THIRTY-NINE REASONS TO HATE HIM
“Declan told Miriam I changed the route?”
Gideon's voice was almost unrecognizable.
Thomas remained seated.
“Yes, sir.”
“After I specifically forbade it?”
Thomas looked down.
Neta could see the old man's shame before he answered.
“I didn't know what she'd been told until after Arthur died.”
Gideon rolled closer.
“Russell Hale drove for my family for seventeen years. His wife buried him while I was learning how to sit upright without passing out.”
“I know.”
“And someone told her I sent him to die?”
Thomas's eyes filled.
“Yes.”
Gideon turned away.
For the first time since Neta had entered the mansion, he looked less like a feared crime boss than a man struggling to understand his own life.
Laith sat quietly near the kitchen doorway.
Neta wanted to take him home.
But she also knew something important had just happened.
The man who had paid five hundred dollars for a cake was beginning to discover that his loneliness had been carefully manufactured.
“Can we move these somewhere safer?” she asked.
Gideon looked at her.
“The envelopes?”
“Yes. If those men outside came looking for Arthur's records, leaving them under chairs seems unwise.”
Thomas stood immediately.
“Arthur's old study. It has a locking cabinet.”
Gideon shook his head.
“No. Bring everything here. Nobody moves evidence where I can't see it.”
Together, they collected the envelopes.
Thirty-nine in total.
Each numbered.
Each containing a payment request, a rejection notice, or correspondence related to the Croft Relief Fund.
Neta arranged them across the long table.
She had spent years organizing wedding orders, delivery receipts, and complicated catering schedules.
Paperwork didn't frighten her.
People with weapons did.
“These numbers aren't random,” she said.
Gideon studied the documents.
“What do you see?”
“The requests were submitted on different dates. But look.”
She placed three rejection notices side by side.
The signatures occupied exactly the same position.
Every curve.
Every stroke.
Even the tiny break in the final letter.
“Someone copied one signature onto multiple documents.”
Thomas leaned closer.
“Arthur noticed that.”
“Then why didn't he show me?”
Thomas hesitated.
“Because you were recovering. He said if he accused the wrong person, the truth would disappear before you were well enough to defend yourself.”
Gideon gave a bitter laugh.
“He should have trusted me.”
Neta looked at him.
“Maybe he was trying to keep you alive.”
Gideon didn't like that answer.
But he didn't dismiss it.
The radio sounded again.
The security supervisor reported that Declan's vehicles had moved away from the gate.
Not far.
Just beyond the property boundary.
Gideon ordered the staff to maintain the perimeter and preserve the camera recordings.
Then he asked Thomas to bring his medical records from the upstairs office.
Thomas returned with a thick folder.
Gideon found the date on Miriam Hale's rejection notice.
Eleven days after the ambush.
He had undergone another procedure that morning.
The chart showed he remained under monitored sedation well into the afternoon.
The supposed rejection had been signed at 2:14 p.m.
“I couldn't have written this.”
Neta studied the signature.
“Then whoever did it expected nobody to check.”
Gideon turned to Thomas.
“Who had access to my signature?”
“Declan. Arthur. The senior accountant. Your business secretary.”
“And you?”
Thomas hesitated.
“Yes.”
The room grew quiet.
Neta watched Gideon's face.
He had discovered betrayal.
But now he had discovered something worse.
He didn't know whom to trust.
A few minutes later, Thomas carried Laith to the sofa in an adjoining sitting room after the boy fell asleep with his shoes still on.
Neta covered him with her coat.
When she returned, Gideon was studying an old photograph tucked behind one of the envelopes.
It showed thirty-nine people gathered outside a company warehouse.
Men and women of different ages.
Several wore work uniforms.
Others stood beside spouses or elderly parents.
Arthur stood near the center.
Smiling.
Gideon was beside him.
Standing tall.
This picture had been taken two years earlier.
Before the ambush.
Before the hospital.
Before the empty birthday party.
Gideon touched the corner.
“Arthur called this the family we built.”
Neta looked at the faces.
“Then why were these people invited tonight?”
“Because they were the ones who stayed when other alliances failed.”
She considered that.
“And now they all believe you turned your back on them.”
He nodded.
“I sent invitations personally. None answered.”
Neta glanced at the empty envelopes.
“Maybe their silence wasn't rejection.”
“What else would it be?”
“Fear. Anger. Shame. Sometimes people don't answer because they don't know what to say.”
Gideon studied her.
“You speak from experience?”
“My husband left when Laith was two. He promised to keep helping with the bills.”
She paused.
“After a while, I stopped waiting for his messages.”
Gideon's expression softened.
“I'm sorry.”
“Don't be. My son has a good life. I worked hard to make sure of that.”
She picked up Miriam's envelope.
“But I know what it feels like when someone makes a promise and disappears.”
Gideon looked toward the photograph.
“I need to speak to her.”
“Tomorrow?”
“First thing.”
Thomas shifted uncomfortably.
“Sir, Miriam won't welcome you.”
“Then she can tell me to leave.”
“She believes you signed an order sending Russell through the old industrial route instead of the approved highway.”
Gideon remembered that night perfectly.
He had cancelled the industrial route after Arthur warned him about suspicious vehicles.
Someone changed it anyway.
And Russell died protecting him when the convoy was attacked.
Gideon stared at Thomas.
“Who authorized the replacement order?”
Thomas reached into his jacket.
He withdrew a folded green dispatch sheet.
The edges were worn from being handled many times.
“I kept this because Arthur told me not to destroy it.”
Gideon unfolded the paper.
It contained the changed route.
The departure time.
And three initials beside the authorization line.
D.W.
Gideon looked up sharply.
“Declan.”
Thomas shook his head.
“Look underneath.”
Another set of initials had been added as a witness.
A.M.
Arthur's initials.
Gideon stared.
May you like
Because the man he trusted most in the world had apparently witnessed the order that sent his convoy into an ambush.
And never told him.
