Her Father Called Him a Killer. Seven Years Later, She Discovered He Went to Prison for Her.
CHAPTER 8
Jonathan Vale had been dead for twelve years.
At least, that was what the world believed.
Eleanor found his death certificate.
Then she found his passport.
Issued three years ago.
Under another name.
“He never died,” she whispered.
Adrian studied the documents.
“Your father wasn’t protecting the empire.”
“He was protecting Jonathan.”
“Or Jonathan was protecting him.”
The difference no longer mattered.
They had to find him.
The trail led to an abandoned private airport.
There, they found Richard.
He was waiting beside a helicopter.
Eleanor stepped forward.
“Where is Jonathan?”
Richard looked at his daughter.
“You don’t understand what you’ve started.”
“You lied to me.”
“I protected you.”
“From what?”
“The truth.”
Eleanor shook her head.
“You’ve been saying that my entire life.”
Richard looked at Adrian.
“I told you to stay away from her.”
Adrian stepped forward.
“You failed.”
Richard laughed.
“You think love makes you strong?”
“No.”
Adrian looked at Eleanor.
“Survival does.”
A helicopter engine started.
Jonathan appeared behind Richard.
Older.
Calm.
Almost gentle.
Eleanor stared.
“Uncle Jonathan.”
He smiled.
“You look like your mother.”
“You’re supposed to be dead.”
“So was Noah.”
Jonathan looked toward the boy.
Noah stepped backward.
Jonathan’s expression changed.
“That child belongs to this family.”
Eleanor moved in front of Noah.
“He belongs to himself.”
Jonathan smiled.
“You’re becoming difficult.”
Adrian drew his weapon.
Jonathan’s men surrounded them.
But before anyone could move, sirens sounded.
Sophia had contacted federal investigators.
The evidence had been transmitted.
Bank records.
Payments.
The Crown Group files.
Everything.
Jonathan looked toward the approaching vehicles.
His smile disappeared.
“You think this ends here?”
Eleanor answered:
“No.”
Jonathan looked at her.
“This is where it begins.”
He reached for a gun.
Adrian moved.
A shot rang out.
Jonathan fell.
Richard stared at his brother.
For the first time, Eleanor saw fear in her father’s eyes.
Jonathan wasn’t dead.
But he was injured.
Federal agents surrounded the airport.
Richard surrendered.
Eleanor thought it was over.
Then Adrian found a final envelope inside Jonathan’s coat.
He opened it.
His face went pale.
“What?”
He handed it to Eleanor.
Inside was a photograph.
Her.
Adrian.
And Marcus.
Taken on the night of the fight.
On the back was one sentence:
ADRIAN WAS NEVER SUPPOSED TO SURVIVE.
Eleanor looked at him.
“Why?”
Adrian stared at the photograph.
“Because Marcus wasn’t the target.”
She felt cold.
“Then who was?”
Adrian looked at her.
“You.”
