PART 2
I walked for almost two hours until I reached an old, quiet neighborhood in Maplewood. Frank, the driver who had been my father’s loyal companion for twenty-two years, lived in a modest house there. When he opened the door and saw me barefoot, soaked, and shivering, he did not ask any questions. He wrapped me in a warm blanket, gave me hot coffee, and sat me down in front of an old stove.
Upon hearing what Gavin had done, he slammed his fist on the wooden table.
“Mr. Albright distrusted him,” Frank said, his voice deep with anger. “Months ago, he discovered money being diverted in five major projects through shell companies, inflated invoices, and steel purchases that never arrived.”
“Why did you not tell me anything?” I asked, looking up from my cup.
“Because he wanted to protect you,” Frank explained gently. “And because we needed solid proof to bring him down.”
Frank lowered his voice and leaned in closer.
“The night before the accident, I saw Gavin’s assistant, Connor, standing next to your father’s car in the company parking lot,” he whispered. “Two days earlier, I myself had checked the brakes and they were perfect.”
The official report stated that the car lost control on the highway to Lakewood and plunged into a deep ravine. The vehicle caught fire. There was no visual identification; the local Prosecutor’s Office described the remains as unrecognizable, and the family held a symbolic funeral with a sealed urn.
I felt the floor move beneath my feet as the realization hit me.
“Gavin tried to kill him,” I whispered.
Before Frank could answer, an old telephone began to ring inside a dusty drawer. My father’s private number appeared on the small screen.
I answered with freezing hands, my heart beating wild.
It was not a live call, but a scheduled recording.
“Naomi, if you are hearing this, it means Gavin has shown his true colors,” my father’s voice said from the speaker. “Do not trust the documents, do not talk to the press, and look for the key hidden inside the base of the statue of Saint Jude that I gave to Frank, then call Attorney Daniel.”
The voice ended. I stayed there hugging the phone to my chest as tears streamed down my face.
Inside the small religious figure, we found a silver key and an encrypted memory device. Daniel, my father’s most trusted lawyer, arranged to meet us at an unassuming bookstore in the old town area of Riverside. He led us through a hidden door behind a bookshelf to a basement filled with screens, contracts, and financial charts.
The monitors displayed Summit Enterprises’ accounts, the names of Gavin’s shell companies, and a network of funds I had never seen before under the name Apex Fund. There were also photographs, wiretapped calls, and bank transactions made just hours after the funeral.
“Your father created this structure to protect strategic assets,” Daniel explained, pointing to the screen. “Gavin only seized the indebted shell of the main company.”
“Then we can still recover the company,” I said, a glimmer of hope rising in my chest.
“We can do more than just recover it,” a familiar voice said from the shadows.
At the far end of the room, a gray-haired man stood in front of a dead-end window. I recognized his broad shoulders before he even turned around.
The air disappeared from my lungs.
My father, the man we had just buried in a silent grave, walked towards me with tears in his eyes.
“Forgive me, daughter,” he said, reaching out to me. “But I needed the traitor to believe he had won.”
And before I could hug him, I realized that his return was just the beginning of a war that could destroy us all.
