Chapter 2 - The Secret My Father Took to His Grave
I called the unknown number eleven times.
Nobody answered.
On the twelfth attempt, the call connected.
For several seconds, all I heard was breathing.
Then a woman spoke.
"Ethan Walker?"
"Who is this?"
"My name is Grace Bennett."
I gripped the steering wheel.
"How do you know my father?"
There was a long pause.
"I used to work for him."
That made no sense.
Dad had been a carpenter for most of his life.
He repaired boats, built kitchen cabinets, and took whatever construction jobs kept the bills paid.
He didn't have employees.
At least, that was what I believed.
"What do you mean you worked for him?"
Grace lowered her voice.
"Your father owned more than you think."
My chest tightened.
"Where are you?"
"Somewhere safe. I hope."
"Why are you sending me pictures of him with Caleb Ross?"
"Because Caleb is dangerous."
I looked toward Maya's apartment building.
A light went out on the third floor.
"Then tell me what is happening."
"Not over the phone."
She gave me an address.
A twenty-four-hour diner outside Brighton Cove.
"Come alone," she said.
Then she hung up.
I sat in my car for nearly five minutes.
My instincts told me not to trust a stranger.
But everything I had believed about Maya had collapsed in less than an hour.
I drove.
The diner was almost empty when I arrived.
An older woman sat in the farthest booth.
She had silver hair pulled into a loose bun and wore a plain brown cardigan.
Her hands were wrapped around a cup of untouched coffee.
When I approached, she looked up.
Her eyes filled with tears.
"You look just like Daniel."
Hearing my father's name nearly broke me.
"Show me something that proves you knew him."
She nodded slowly.
Then she took an old photograph from her purse.
Dad stood in front of the duplex.
I was beside him.
I couldn't have been older than eight.
I wore a ridiculous yellow raincoat and held a fishing rod twice my height.
I remembered that day.
Dad had dropped his wallet into the water.
We spent the afternoon laughing while he tried to retrieve it.
Only someone who knew him would have that photograph.
"Who are you?" I whispered.
"Your father's bookkeeper. Before everything fell apart."
She explained that Dad hadn't always been a struggling carpenter.
Twenty-five years earlier, he had invested in several small coastal properties with his childhood friend, Richard Ross.
The name hit me immediately.
"Ross?"
Grace nodded.
"Caleb's father."
I leaned back.
"You're telling me Caleb's family knew my dad?"
"They did much more than know him."
According to Grace, Daniel Walker and Richard Ross had bought neglected waterfront properties and renovated them together.
For years, the business was successful.
Then Richard began moving money between accounts without permission.
Dad discovered the missing funds.
When he confronted Richard, their partnership ended.
A legal dispute followed.
Richard lost his interest in several properties, including the duplex.
But he never forgave Dad.
"Why didn't my father tell me?"
Grace stared into her coffee.
"Because Richard threatened your family."
I felt a chill.
"What kind of threat?"
"Financial ruin. Lawsuits. Public accusations. Daniel wanted you and Marcus protected."
I thought about Dad working long days.
His worn-out boots.
His hands cracked from winter construction jobs.
All those years, I believed money had always been tight.
Maybe the truth was more complicated.
Grace slid a folder across the table.
Inside were old partnership agreements, bank statements, and photographs.
One document carried Caleb Ross's name.
He had witnessed a meeting between the two men shortly before Richard died.
"Caleb took over the family business," Grace explained. "He believes your father cheated his family."
"But Dad didn't?"
Grace looked directly at me.
"Your father kept records of everything. Richard was the one who stole."
I thought about Maya.
"How does she fit into this?"
Grace's expression darkened.
"I believe Caleb recruited her."
I swallowed.
"She and I have been together four years."
"I know."
I looked up sharply.
"What?"
Grace hesitated.
"Your father suspected she was connected to Caleb."
For a moment, I couldn't speak.
"No."
"He saw them together shortly before he died."
I shook my head.
"Maya told me she met Caleb last year."
"She lied."
Grace opened another folder.
A photograph showed Maya sitting beside Caleb in a restaurant.
The date printed beneath it was almost five years old.
Six months before I met her.
I stared until my eyes burned.
My memories began rearranging themselves.
The night Maya approached me at a friend's birthday party.
How she seemed fascinated by my childhood.
How she asked about my father before she asked about my job.
Her sudden interest in renovating the duplex.
Her insistence that I shouldn't sell without professional advice.
Had any of it been genuine?
I pushed the photograph away.
"Why didn't Dad warn me?"
Grace wiped her eyes.
"He tried."
I remembered our final argument.
Dad had asked why Maya needed access to his property records.
I told him he was being controlling.
He said I was too trusting.
I accused him of never respecting my choices.
We didn't speak for three days.
Then he suffered a fatal heart attack.
I had carried that argument like a stone inside my chest ever since.
Grace reached across the table.
"He loved you, Ethan. He was trying to find proof before confronting you."
A tear slipped down my face.
I wiped it away.
"Why contact me now?"
"Because someone accessed an old company account yesterday."
She opened her phone.
A notification showed an attempted transfer involving the duplex.
"Daniel arranged certain protections before he died," she said.
"What protections?"
"A restricted title arrangement. The duplex cannot legally be transferred without additional verification."
I leaned forward.
"Then Maya can't steal it?"
"Not easily. But forged documents can still create a nightmare."
Grace explained that someone had submitted documents claiming I had authorized a sale.
The application was incomplete.
A final identity verification was scheduled for Friday.
Tomorrow.
My stomach dropped.
"That's the appointment Maya mentioned."
Grace nodded.
"Probably."
I took out my phone and showed her the photographs from the envelope.
She studied them carefully.
Then she stopped on one page.
Her face drained.
"Where did you get this?"
"Maya's apartment."
Grace pointed to a name beneath the signature.
Notary Public: Linda Mercer.
"I know this woman," she whispered.
"Who is she?"
"She worked with Richard Ross."
I stared at her.
"Is she helping Caleb?"
Grace's hands began shaking.
"Linda Mercer died three years ago."
For a moment, the diner seemed to go silent.
A dead woman had supposedly notarized my signature.
I looked at Grace.
"What do I do?"
She closed the folder.
"First, you need your own attorney. Tomorrow, we preserve the evidence and stop the transfer."
I nodded.
Then my phone rang.
Marcus.
I answered immediately.
"Ethan, where are you?"
"What's wrong?"
His voice trembled.
"Somebody broke into Dad's duplex."
My heart stopped.
"Are you there?"
"Yeah. I came to check the plumbing."
"Get out, Marcus."
"Ethan, the back door was open, and there's someone upstairs."
I stood so quickly that my chair scraped across the floor.
"Leave the house. Right now."
Then I heard a loud crash.
Marcus shouted.
The call disconnected.
I stared at my screen.
Grace rose from her seat.
"What happened?"
May you like
I was already running toward the door.
"Whoever is after my father's property just found my brother."
