Chapter 8
The email did not tell us everything Victor had done.
It told us enough about what he wanted hidden now.
Chen showed me a copy after receiving permission to discuss it.
“Remove records and identifying material before the buyer explores.”
The message was dated four days before I found the tin.
The contractor had not completed the work because the old maintenance entrance was obstructed and the cellar conditions worried him.
Elias had known the passages better.
That was why his visit mattered.
That was why Victor wanted demolition.
I asked Chen what would happen next.
“The financial case and the recent interference are moving forward,” he said. “Environmental authorities are handling their own investigation.”
“And the lies to my father?”
“They establish context and may support other evidence. But we still have to prove specific offenses with records we can rely on.”
I wanted every stolen year charged to Victor’s name.
The law could not do that.
It could address the fraud still visible in documents, the money still traceable, and the attempts to conceal evidence.
I took that home to Dad.
He listened, then looked toward Clara, who was helping Sophie choose photographs for a family album.
“I used to think justice would mean he explained why,” Dad said. “Now I want him unable to do it again.”
“So do I.”
Victor’s lawyers offered a settlement concerning Clara’s assets.
It required confidentiality and release of claims.
Marianne took Clara through it carefully.
Clara asked only one question.
“Would this stop me telling people I have a son?”
“No agreement should make you say otherwise,” Marianne replied. “But this one would limit discussion of the conduct.”
Clara pushed it away.
“I’ve been quiet long enough.”
Dad did not answer for her.
He simply nodded.
Over the following months, the vineyard cleanup began. Specialists removed hazardous material under a controlled plan. The lower chamber was stabilized. Soil and water were tested.
I stayed elsewhere during the most intrusive work.
Sophie did not visit the site until professionals cleared the areas she would use.
I hated how the dangerous cellar had reached into ordinary life, but I would not repeat my grandfather’s habit of pretending danger disappeared if nobody mentioned it.
Elias helped identify the old access routes from outside the restricted area. Dad showed the team where storage passages had been added.
Their memories were checked against plans and physical findings.
Clara’s notebooks became part of the documented history.
She had tried to warn people.
Now they were listening.
One afternoon, Dad asked to speak to Elias privately.
They sat in the garden while I made tea.
When I returned, both were crying.
“I thought you forgot me,” Dad said.
“I thought you chose to leave,” Elias answered.
They had spent nearly fifty years grieving a friendship neither had abandoned.
I put the cups down and walked away.
Some conversations deserved witnesses only at the edges.
My own relationship with Dad changed too.
He began telling me things he had hidden because Victor taught him that remembering made him weak.
He talked about fear. About why he avoided old family photographs. About the shame of believing his mother had rejected him before being told she died.
“I thought if I gave you a normal childhood, none of it mattered,” he said.
“You did give me love.”
“I also taught you not to ask.”
I thought of how easily I accepted Victor’s stories at family gatherings.
“We’re asking now.”
Dad smiled faintly.
At the preliminary court appearances, Victor looked smaller without his office, expensive table, and obedient staff around him.
He still tried to hold my gaze.
I stopped looking away.
He had been charged in connection with the recent financial deception and related conduct. The case would take time. Some environmental claims would be resolved separately.
Clara asked whether she had to attend every hearing.
“No,” Marianne said.
“Then I’d rather plant tomatoes.”
We bought seedlings that afternoon.
She told Sophie which ones needed the sunniest spot. Dad dug the holes. I carried water. Maple slept in the grass.
That evening, Victor sent Dad a message through his lawyer.
He wanted a private meeting.
Dad read it once.
May you like
Then he said, “He has had enough private rooms.”
He declined.
