CHAPTER 7 — The Billionaire Everyone Buried Was Still Alive
The helicopter disappeared into the storm.
Roman Blackwood stood in the rain, Malcolm's blood soaking through his expensive suit.
He couldn't move.
His father...
Alive?
It was impossible.
Five years earlier, more than two thousand people had attended the funeral of Theodore Blackwood—the legendary founder of Blackwood Global.
World leaders had sent flowers.
Television stations had broadcast the ceremony live.
Roman himself had lowered the coffin into the family crypt.
He had cried over that grave.
Now Malcolm's dying words echoed in his mind.
"Your father is watching us now..."
An hour later...
The chapel had become a crime scene.
Federal agents surrounded the property.
The sniper was gone.
No shell casings.
No footprints.
Nothing.
It was as if the killer had vanished into the storm.
Inside the mansion, Amelia refused to leave Noah's side.
For the first time in years, she was speaking in short sentences.
Only to him.
Only to her brother.
Roman watched them quietly.
The two children instinctively held each other's hands, as if the bond stolen from them at birth had somehow survived.
Clara sat nearby, exhausted.
"There wasn't time to tell you everything," she whispered.
Roman knelt beside her.
"Tell me now."
Clara took a deep breath.
"Theodore discovered that Evelyn wanted to donate half of the Blackwood fortune to children's hospitals after his death."
Roman nodded slowly.
"She believed no family should own that much wealth."
"Theodore called it betrayal."
"So he decided neither Evelyn... nor her children... would ever inherit the company."
Roman felt sick.
"My own father..."
"...planned this?"
Clara nodded through tears.
"He needed one heir he could completely control."
Roman looked toward Noah.
"So he kidnapped Nathan..."
"...and raised him somewhere else?"
"No."
Clara shook her head.
"I escaped before that happened."
Roman frowned.
"Then who raised Noah?"
Clara smiled sadly.
"I did."
"I hid him."
"I changed our names."
"We moved every few months."
"But Theodore never stopped looking."
Roman closed his eyes.
Every missing year.
Every lie.
Every tragedy.
They all led back to one man.
That night...
A black envelope arrived at Blackwood Manor.
No return address.
Inside was a single chess piece.
A black king.
And a handwritten note.
WELCOME HOME, SON.
IF YOU WANT THE TRUTH... COME ALONE.
MIDNIGHT.
THE FAMILY MAUSOLEUM.
Roman crumpled the note.
"It's him."
Noah stepped forward.
"It's a trap."
"I know."
"So don't go."
Roman looked at the two children.
"For twenty years I've believed my father was dead."
"For three years I've believed my wife died by accident."
"I won't spend another day living someone else's lies."
At 11:58 p.m., Roman arrived alone at the Blackwood family cemetery.
Rain covered the marble statues.
The enormous mausoleum stood silent beneath flashes of lightning.
The iron door slowly creaked open...
...before he even touched it.
Someone inside was waiting.
Roman stepped into the darkness.
Candles suddenly lit themselves one by one.
At the end of the crypt...
An elderly man sat calmly in a wheelchair, dressed in an immaculate black suit.
Silver hair.
Piercing blue eyes.
The unmistakable Blackwood face.
Roman's knees nearly gave way.
"Father..."
May you like
The old man smiled.
"You're late."
