Chapter 6 - The Last Secret on Floor Fifty-Two
Six months after Abigail was born, Sterling Harbor Tower looked different.
Not physically.
The same glass.
The same steel.
The same freight elevator.
But secrets no longer controlled it.
Or so I believed.
Then Raphael called me.
“Come to fifty-two.”
“What happened?”
“I found something.”
Those words still had the ability to ruin my morning.
I carried Abigail upstairs.
Raphael stood inside Victor’s former private office.
A safe had been discovered behind the wall.
Inside was one final envelope.
My name was written across it.
Not Aaron’s handwriting.
Victor’s.
I stared.
“Why would he leave something for me?”
Raphael opened the envelope.
Inside was a photograph.
Aaron.
Standing beside Raphael.
The date was eight months before Aaron’s death.
My knees weakened.
“You said you met him once.”
Raphael stared at the photograph.
“I thought I had.”
Behind the photograph was a note.
Raphael read it.
Then went silent.
“What?”
He handed it to me.
Victor had written:
Raphael never understood why Mercer chose him.
Your husband believed my nephew could change the family.
That was Aaron’s mistake.
I looked at Raphael.
“Aaron chose you.”
Raphael seemed shaken.
“He knew who I was before the parking garage.”
Apparently, Aaron had spent months investigating Victor.
He had also investigated Raphael.
He discovered Raphael had quietly blocked several of Victor’s operations and moved legitimate Caruso companies away from criminal activity.
Aaron believed Raphael was the only Caruso powerful enough to expose Victor without destroying the innocent people employed by the family.
I laughed softly.
“What?”
Raphael asked.
“Aaron.”
I wiped my eyes.
“He always believed people could become better than what they’d done.”
Raphael looked toward the harbor.
“He was wrong about plenty of people.”
“Yes.”
I looked at him.
“But maybe not you.”
He said nothing.
Abigail began fussing.
Raphael immediately held out his arms.
Six months earlier, he had been terrified to touch her.
Now she practically belonged on his shoulder.
He carried her toward the window.
“You know,” I said, “you’ve gotten suspiciously good at that.”
“At what?”
“Babies.”
“She likes me.”
“She likes ceiling fans too.”
He looked offended.
“That comparison is unnecessary.”
I laughed.
Then Abigail grabbed his tie.
Raphael sighed.
“Your mother is disrespectful.”
I walked beside them.
“No. Her mother is unemployed.”
He frowned.
“What?”
“I’m quitting.”
Raphael nearly dropped his coffee.
“You’re what?”
“The foundation doesn’t need me running every detail anymore.”
“What will you do?”
I looked down at Abigail.
“Go back to school.”
“For what?”
“Law.”
Raphael stared.
“You’re serious?”
“Victims need lawyers.”
A slow smile appeared.
“Aaron would like that.”
“Yes.”
I looked at my daughter.
May you like
“I think he would.”
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