Chapter 6 - THE HOUSE THAT LIED
Nobody spoke after Adrian identified the plate.
His father's car.
His father's license plate.
His mother's murder.
The missing boy.
Thomas Wren.
Everything seemed to point in one direction.
And yet something still didn't fit.
Adrian stared at the drawing.
“My father owned this car.”
Victor nodded.
“Yes.”
“Then he was there.”
“Yes.”
“Then why didn't you tell me?”
“Because your mother told me not to.”
Adrian slammed the drawing onto the desk.
“My mother is dead, Victor.”
“I know.”
“She doesn't get to keep secrets anymore.”
Victor looked at him.
“She wasn't keeping secrets from you.”
“Then from whom?”
Victor answered quietly.
“From your father.”
The words hung between them.
Victor explained.
“Your mother knew Malcolm was trying to expose Wren.”
Adrian looked confused.
“Then why did she run?”
“Because Malcolm told her someone inside his own security team was leaking information.”
Victor looked at the signet ring.
“I was one of three men with access.”
Grant stepped forward.
“And the third?”
Victor's expression darkened.
“Thomas Wren.”
Adrian looked at the drawing again.
“Then Wren could have used my father's car.”
“Yes.”
“Without him knowing?”
“Yes.”
That changed everything.
The evidence didn't prove Adrian's father had been at the murder.
It proved someone had access to his identity.
And someone had wanted everyone to believe he was guilty.
Then the front door of the gallery opened.
A man entered.
Expensive gray coat.
Silver hair.
Calm expression.
He carried a leather folder.
Adrian stared.
“Thomas Wren.”
Wren smiled.
“You've grown.”
Adrian's voice was cold.
“You're older.”
“We all are.”
Victor stepped forward.
“You should have stayed away.”
Wren looked at him.
“You've always been dramatic.”
Grant moved beside Adrian.
Wren glanced at Nora.
“And you must be the waitress.”
I didn't answer.
His eyes moved to the frame.
“Interesting choice.”
Adrian stepped forward.
“Why were you paying taxes on the warehouse?”
Wren's smile disappeared.
“Because I owned it.”
“Not anymore.”
“No.”
“Then why?”
Wren looked at the seven women.
“Because some things are easier to hide when everyone believes they're abandoned.”
Adrian's expression hardened.
“What did you hide?”
Wren looked at me.
Then at the necklace.
His face changed.
Only slightly.
But I saw it.
He recognized it.
“The compartment,” he said.
Adrian stepped closer.
“How do you know about that?”
Wren didn't answer.
Victor whispered.
“Because he helped create it.”
Adrian looked at Victor.
“What?”
“Your mother asked Wren to build the compartment.”
Wren closed his eyes.
“I did.”
Adrian stared at him.
“You helped my mother?”
“Yes.”
“Then why did she fear you?”
“Because I betrayed her.”
The room went silent.
Wren looked older suddenly.
“I was in debt.”
Adrian said nothing.
“My son had been arrested. He owed people money. Wren family money was tied up. I was desperate.”
“You sold her out.”
“Yes.”
“Who paid you?”
Wren's voice broke slightly.
“I never knew his real name.”
Adrian laughed bitterly.
“You expect me to believe that?”
“I know how it sounds.”
“Who?”
Wren looked at the seven women.
Then at Grant.
Finally, at Adrian.
“A man named Samuel Cross.”
Grant inhaled sharply.
Adrian's face changed.
“Cross?”
“Your father's business partner.”
“He died years ago.”
“Yes.”
“Then why does that matter?”
Wren opened the leather folder.
Inside was an old company ledger.
Not legal paperwork.
Not a confession.
Just transaction records.
Payments.
Dates.
Initials.
And one repeated phrase.
CROSS FOUNDATION.
Adrian stared.
“The foundation still exists.”
Wren nodded.
“Under a different name.”
“Who controls it?”
Wren looked at me.
“That's the problem.”
I frowned.
“Why are you looking at me?”
“Because the foundation made a payment tonight.”
Adrian's eyes sharpened.
“To whom?”
Wren placed a receipt on the desk.
The recipient name was clear.
NORA BENNETT.
My stomach dropped.
“I've never received money from them.”
“I know.”
“Then why is my name on it?”
Wren looked at Adrian.
“Because someone wanted you to believe she had been bought.”
Adrian's eyes narrowed.
“For what?”
Wren's answer was quiet.
“To make you distrust her.”
Nobody moved.
Then Wren pulled out one final object.
A small child's bracelet.
Faded.
Old.
Engraved with one name.
EDDIE.
Victor stared.
“That was never found.”
Wren nodded.
“Because I found it first.”
Adrian stepped closer.
“Where?”
May you like
Wren looked toward the service hallway.
“In the place your mother died.”
