Chapter 10 - Conrad ValeConrad Vale was supposed to be in Switzerland.
At least, that was what every society column believed.
He had not been seen publicly in six months, not since rumors spread that his health was failing and his children had begun quietly dividing pieces of the Vale empire before he was dead enough to object.
Yet there he stood on Ethan Mercer’s rooftop, one hand resting on a cane, gray coat untouched by the wind, eyes fixed on his daughter like judgment had learned to wear cashmere.
Veronica looked like a child caught stealing.
“Dad,” she said. “You shouldn’t be here.”
Conrad stepped down from the helicopter.
“No,” he said. “You shouldn’t.”
Detective Keene raised her badge.
“Conrad Vale?”
He glanced at her.
“You’ll want what is in my briefcase.”
Ethan stared at him.
Conrad turned.
“You are Ethan Mercer.”
“Yes.”
“I warned your board about my children.”
Ethan’s face hardened.
“No one warned me.”
Conrad’s mouth tightened.
“Then they buried that too.”
Veronica recovered enough to speak.
“He’s confused. He’s been ill.”
Conrad looked at her with weary disgust.
“I was ill, Veronica. Not dead.”
Caleb retrieved the silver drive from inches beside the drainage grate and placed it in an evidence bag.
Veronica’s eyes followed it with pure hatred.
Conrad saw.
“So Miguel saved a copy after all.”
Rosa stepped forward.
“You knew my husband?”
Conrad turned to her.
For the first time, his hard expression softened.
“You must be Rosa.”
Her lips trembled.
“Did you know what they did to him?”
The old man closed his eyes.
“I suspected. Too late.”
Rosa shook her head.
“No. No, you don’t get to say too late.”
The rooftop went silent.
“You were powerful,” she said, voice rising. “You had lawyers, money, guards, cars, people who answered your calls. I had a baby inside me and rent due. Too late for you was paperwork. Too late for me was my husband in the ground.”
Conrad bowed his head.
“You’re right.”
Veronica snapped, “Don’t perform guilt for the help.”
Ethan moved before anyone else could.
He did not touch Veronica.
He simply stepped between her and Rosa.
“Say one more word to her.”
Veronica looked at him and seemed to understand she had lost him forever.
Conrad opened his briefcase.
Inside were documents, sealed envelopes, and a small recorder.
“My daughter and son were not alone,” he said. “Horizon Grace moved money for judges, hospital administrators, police, and donors who wanted tax shelters dressed as compassion.”
Detective Keene’s eyes narrowed.
“How long have you had this?”
“Six weeks.”
Ethan’s anger flared. “Six weeks?”
Conrad met his eyes.
“I was building a case.”
Rosa laughed once, broken and bitter.
“My husband built one too.”
No one answered.
Then Conrad looked at Lily.
The child hid behind Rosa.
The old man’s face changed.
“Is that Miguel’s daughter?”
Rosa pulled Lily closer.
“Yes.”
Conrad swallowed.
“He asked me for help three years ago.”
The words landed harder than the wind.
Rosa whispered, “What?”
May you like
Conrad’s eyes filled with something like shame.
“And I told him to wait.”
