CHAPTER 4 — The Funeral Where the Dead Man Smiled
"The man everyone believed had died twenty years ago... walked into his own memorial."
Three days after the attack at the hospital, Manhattan buried another lie.
The funeral wasn't for Adrian Bellamy.
It was for Henri Maro—Juliet's older brother.
Officially, Henri had died in France twenty-two years earlier in a boating accident.
Unofficially...
Every person connected to Juliet's disappearance had gathered in one cathedral.
Business moguls.
Politicians.
Old family friends.
People who wore grief like expensive jewelry.
Adrian stood beside me beneath the cathedral's stained-glass windows.
"You don't have to stay," he said quietly.
"I do."
"Why?"
"Because my grandmother never got to say goodbye."
His blue eyes lingered on me.
"You remind me of her every time you refuse to run."
Before I could answer...
The church doors burst open.
Everyone turned.
An elderly man walked inside with a cane.
His beard was silver.
His shoulders bent with age.
Yet his eyes...
His eyes were unmistakable.
The old woman standing beside the coffin screamed.
"No..."
A bishop nearly dropped his Bible.
One politician stumbled backward.
The elderly man removed his hat.
"My name," he announced calmly,
"...is Henri Maro."
"And I would very much like to know whose body you've buried."
Silence.
Absolute silence.
The coffin...
Was empty.
Panic exploded through the cathedral.
Guests rushed toward the exit.
Security drew weapons.
Television cameras rolled live.
Adrian never looked at the empty coffin.
He stared only at Henri.
"You survived."
Henri smiled sadly.
"No."
"I hid."
He turned toward me.
"So she really kept her promise."
I frowned.
"What promise?"
Henri's eyes filled with tears.
"That no matter what happened..."
"...her granddaughter would grow up free."
Hours later...
Henri sat inside Adrian's townhouse library.
He unfolded an old map of southern France.
Across one corner Juliet had written a sentence in faded blue ink.
The truth sleeps beneath the lighthouse.
Henri pointed to the words.
"She hid something."
"What?"
"The one thing powerful people have killed for."
Adrian folded his arms.
"Evidence."
Henri slowly shook his head.
"No."
"A child."
Both of us froze.
"A child?" I whispered.
Henri looked directly at me.
"You never wondered why Juliet left France while pregnant..."
"...but arrived in America with only one little girl?"
The room became impossibly quiet.
My heartbeat thundered.
"What are you saying?"
May you like
Henri closed his eyes.
"You weren't the only baby Juliet protected."
