CHAPTER 4 — NATHAN'S SECRET
CHAPTER 4 — NATHAN'S SECRET
The mansion smelled of smoke.
Dust drifted through the western corridor, settling over the marble floor like gray snow.
Dominic stood in the ruined cellar with the photograph of Elena still clutched in his hand.
The explosion had destroyed almost everything.
Almost.
He looked toward the collapsed passage.
"Nathan."
The name came out like a threat.
Claire stood beside him, coughing.
"He knew we'd find the room."
Dominic turned toward her.
"How?"
"I don't know."
"You knew the code."
"Because Nathan showed me the room years ago."
"You knew about the hidden documents."
"I knew some of them existed."
"But you didn't tell me."
Claire lowered her eyes.
"No."
Dominic stepped closer.
"Why?"
"Because I was trying to survive."
"By lying to me?"
"Yes."
The honesty of the answer caught him off guard.
Claire looked at the photograph.
"I was afraid that if Nathan discovered I had told you everything, he'd kill you."
Dominic's expression hardened.
"You were afraid he'd kill me?"
"He's already killed everyone who got close to the truth."
"Then why are you still alive?"
Claire looked at him.
"Because he needed me."
"For what?"
Claire didn't answer.
Before Dominic could press her, footsteps sounded above them.
Marcus appeared at the cellar entrance.
"Boss."
Dominic looked up.
"What?"
"The perimeter team found Nathan's vehicle."
"Where?"
"Three miles north."
"Empty?"
Marcus shook his head.
"No."
Dominic's eyes narrowed.
"Then where is he?"
Marcus hesitated.
"We found the driver."
A pause.
"Dead."
The body was discovered in a ditch beside the old county road.
Nathan's driver had been shot once.
Cleanly.
Professionally.
Dominic crouched beside the body.
Marcus stood behind him.
"Whoever did this didn't want him talking."
Dominic examined the man's hand.
There was a tiny piece of paper trapped between his fingers.
Dominic pulled it free.
One word.
LISBON.
Claire saw it.
Her face changed.
Dominic noticed.
"You know what that means."
"No."
"Claire."
She shook her head.
"I've never been to Lisbon."
Dominic stared at her.
"I didn't ask where you'd been."
Silence.
Claire looked away.
Dominic stood.
"You're hiding something."
"Yes."
"About Lisbon?"
"Yes."
"What?"
"I can't tell you."
Dominic's voice became cold.
"Then you can start explaining why."
Claire looked at the dead driver.
"Because Nathan isn't running away."
"Where is he going?"
"To find someone."
"Who?"
She whispered:
"My father."
Dominic froze.
"Vincent Marlowe."
Claire nodded.
"The man everyone thinks is dead."
By noon, Dominic's entire security network was searching for Nathan.
Roadblocks were established.
Private airfields were watched.
Every known associate was questioned.
Nothing.
Nathan had vanished.
Then Dominic received a call.
Unknown number.
He answered.
"Dominic."
Nathan.
Dominic stood.
"Where are you?"
"Does it matter?"
"It will."
Nathan laughed.
"You found the room."
"Yes."
"You found the photographs."
"Yes."
"You found the documents."
"Not all of them."
Nathan went silent.
Dominic smiled faintly.
"So you know."
"I know what you think you found."
"Tell me the truth."
"The truth?"
Nathan laughed.
"You've been living inside a lie since you were a child."
Dominic tightened his grip on the phone.
"You killed my father."
"Yes."
"You killed Elena."
Another pause.
"Yes."
"You betrayed me."
"Yes."
Nathan's calmness was almost worse than anger.
Dominic asked:
"Why?"
Nathan answered immediately.
"Because your father was weak."
Dominic's eyes hardened.
"He trusted people."
"He trusted the wrong people."
"You?"
"Especially me."
Nathan continued.
"Adrian built an empire and believed loyalty was enough to hold it together."
"He was your friend."
"He was my obstacle."
Dominic looked toward Claire.
"And Elena?"
"She discovered the accounts."
"So you killed her."
"I tried to."
Dominic froze.
"What does that mean?"
Nathan laughed softly.
"Elena wasn't supposed to die."
Claire's face went pale.
Dominic stared at her.
"What?"
Nathan continued.
"The fire was supposed to kill the baby."
Claire covered her mouth.
Dominic felt the blood drain from his face.
"You knew she had a daughter."
"Of course."
"Why?"
"Because Elena told me."
Nathan's voice became colder.
"She told me everything."
Dominic looked at Claire.
"You survived."
Claire whispered:
"Yes."
Nathan laughed.
"She was supposed to be dead."
Dominic asked:
"Who saved her?"
Nathan didn't answer.
"Who?"
"The maid."
Dominic's eyes widened.
"Mia."
"Yes."
The call ended.
Dominic returned to the mansion.
Mia was awake.
Harper was asleep beside her.
Dominic entered quietly.
Mia immediately knew something had happened.
"What did you learn?"
Dominic sat beside her.
"Nathan said you saved a baby from the fire."
Mia closed her eyes.
For a moment, she looked exhausted.
Then she whispered:
"She wasn't supposed to survive."
Dominic stared.
"You knew Claire was Elena's daughter."
"Yes."
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"Because Elena made me promise."
"She made you promise to hide her daughter from me?"
"She wanted her alive."
Dominic looked toward Harper.
"And you raised her?"
Mia nodded.
"Not exactly."
"What do you mean?"
"After the fire, I took her to a safe house."
"Whose?"
"Adrian's."
Dominic's expression changed.
"My father's?"
"Yes."
"Was he alive?"
Mia hesitated.
Dominic leaned closer.
"Was my father alive after the fire?"
Mia looked at him.
"Yes."
Dominic's heart stopped.
"What?"
"Your father survived the first attack."
"How long?"
"Three weeks."
"Where?"
Mia looked toward the window.
"Underground."
Dominic stood.
"Where?"
Mia whispered:
"Here."
Dominic returned to the cellar.
He searched the walls.
Nothing.
He searched beneath the wine racks.
Nothing.
Then Claire walked toward the ruined passage.
"There's another door."
Dominic looked at her.
"Where?"
She pointed toward the floor.
"Under the old rack."
They moved the debris.
A steel plate appeared.
Dominic pried it open.
Beneath it was a narrow staircase.
They descended.
At the bottom was a small room.
A bed.
A desk.
An old radio.
And a wall covered with dates.
Dominic walked toward it.
The final date was seventeen years ago.
Underneath it were three words.
NATHAN KNOWS EVERYTHING.
Dominic touched the wall.
Claire whispered:
"Your father wrote that."
Dominic turned.
"How do you know?"
Claire's face became pale.
"Because I was here."
"When?"
"After the fire."
"With Adrian?"
She nodded.
"What did he tell you?"
Claire looked at him.
"He told me Nathan would eventually come for me."
"Why?"
"Because I was the last proof that Adrian had survived."
Dominic stared.
"Where is my father now?"
Claire didn't answer.
Then a voice came from the radio.
Static.
A crackle.
Then a man's voice.
Old.
Weak.
But unmistakably human.
"Dominic."
Dominic froze.
Claire stepped backward.
The voice continued.
"If you're hearing this, Nathan failed."
Dominic's breathing stopped.
"Son..."
He stared at the radio.
His father's voice.
After seventeen years.
"I need you to listen carefully."
The recording crackled.
"Do not trust Vincent Marlowe."
Dominic looked at Claire.
"Why?"
The recording continued.
"Vincent did not start the war."
A pause.
"He only finished what someone else began."
Dominic stepped closer.
"Who?"
Static.
Then the voice returned.
"The person you call Nathan Cross..."
The recording broke.
Dominic waited.
Nothing.
Then one final sentence came through.
"...was never his real name."
The radio went silent.
Claire covered her mouth.
Dominic stared at the machine.
Nathan had lied about everything.
His name.
His past.
His loyalty.
His identity.
But one question remained.
If Nathan Cross wasn't his real name—
who was he?
That night, Dominic opened every file he had.
Birth records.
Military records.
Company records.
Police reports.
Nothing.
Nathan Cross had apparently been born in Connecticut.
But every record before the age of twenty-seven had been erased.
Dominic stared at the screen.
Then Claire entered.
"I found something."
She placed a photograph on the desk.
It showed three young men.
Adrian Vale.
Vincent Marlowe.
And a third man.
Dominic stared.
"Who is that?"
Claire whispered:
"Nathan."
Dominic looked at the date.
Thirty-one years ago.
Nathan looked twenty years old.
But the name written beneath him was not Nathan Cross.
It was:
NOAH VANCE.
Dominic's eyes widened.
"Vance?"
Claire nodded.
"My father's original partner."
Dominic stared at the photograph.
"Noah Vance."
"He was supposed to have died in a prison fire."
"When?"
"Twenty-eight years ago."
Dominic slowly looked up.
"Then Nathan Cross is a dead man."
Claire's voice trembled.
"Yes."
A knock sounded at the door.
Both turned.
Nobody was there.
Only an envelope lay on the floor.
Dominic opened it.
Inside was a single photograph.
Nathan.
Standing at an airport.
Beside him was Vincent Marlowe.
And behind them stood a woman Dominic had never seen before.
On the back of the photograph were six words:
SHE KNOWS WHO NATHAN REALLY IS.
Dominic looked at Claire.
"Who is she?"
Claire stared at the photograph.
Her face turned completely white.
"I know her."
"Who?"
Claire whispered:
"My mother."
Dominic's eyes widened.
"Elena?"
Claire shook her head.
"No."
She turned the photograph over again.
Then whispered:
"The woman who gave birth to me."
Dominic stared at her.
"Then who was Elena?"
Claire looked toward the darkness outside the window.
And for the first time, she seemed genuinely terrified.
"I don't know."
Outside the mansion, a black car disappeared into the night.
And somewhere inside it, Nathan Cross—or Noah Vance, or whatever his real name was—was holding another photograph.
One that Dominic had never seen.
A photograph of a newborn baby.
On the back was written:
ISABELLA WAS NEVER THE BABY WHO SURVIVED.
Nathan smiled.
"Now let him find out."
The game had just changed.
Because Dominic had spent seventeen years searching for the man who betrayed his family.
May you like
He had never realized the real secret was not who Nathan was.
It was who Claire was.
