“I had thousands of employees.”
“You had a choice.”
“I had consequences.”
Bailey stared at him.
There it was—the principle that had governed his life. Not loyalty. Not courage. Consequences.
Alaric had never cared whether something was wrong. He cared whether it was costly.
“Mother kept asking,” Bailey said.
“Yes.”
“And then her boat went down.”
“Yes.”
“But she survived.”
“Yes.”
“Did you help her disappear?”
He shook his head.
“I helped the world believe she was dead.”
The admission made the room feel colder.
“Why?”
“Because after the accident, she came to me. She was injured, terrified, and convinced the commission had arranged it. She asked me to take you and leave the country.”
Bailey could barely picture it. Her mother wounded and frightened. Her father faced with a decision.
“You refused.”
“I had creditors, contracts, employees—”
“You refused.”
Alaric’s mouth tightened.
“Yes.”
“And she left without me.”
“She believed taking you would make you a target.”
Bailey looked down at the letter.
Do not trust the red entries.
Trust the blue.
She opened the ledger again and turned several pages.
Red marks appeared beside names, dates, and payments. Blue circles enclosed shipping routes and account numbers.
“What happened in Bellweather?” she asked.
Stefan did not move.
Her mother’s letter had named him directly. Not her father. Not the commission.
Stefan.
He looked toward Alaric.
Alaric gave a bitter laugh.
“Now you discover what it is like to be the one holding back the truth.”
Stefan ignored him.
“Bellweather is a coastal town three hours north,” he said. “Nine years ago, one of your mother’s ships docked there during a storm.”
“One of her ships?”
“She controlled several vessels through a holding company your father never knew about.”
Alaric’s expression suggested this was not entirely true, but he remained silent.
Stefan continued. “The official report said the vessel was damaged and remained in port for repairs. In reality, your mother used it as a meeting place. She planned to give evidence against the commission to a federal investigator.”
Bailey glanced at the ledger.
“This evidence?”
“Part of it.”
“What happened?”
“The investigator never arrived.”
“And my mother?”
“She did. So did I.”
A faint unease moved through Bailey.
“How did you know her?”
Stefan’s eyes held hers.
“She saved my brother’s life.”
The answer was not what Bailey expected.
“When?”
“Years earlier. My brother worked on one of the southern routes. A crane cable snapped during loading. The company wanted to blame him for the damage and leave him without medical care. Evelyn paid for his treatment and proved the equipment had not been inspected.”
Bailey thought of her mother at formal dinners, speaking softly while men spoke over her.
“You owed her.”
“I did.”
“So she trusted you.”
“For a time.”
“What happened at Bellweather?”
Before Stefan could answer, the door opened.
A young woman stepped inside, rain on her shoulders and a pistol lowered at her side.
“House is secure,” she said. “We found the shooter.”
Stefan’s expression sharpened.
“Alive?”