Chapter 12 - EDWARD WHITMORE

Salvatore’s arrest was not immediate.

He had expensive lawyers and a talent for speaking without technically confessing.

But investigators had enough to hold him for questioning.

He called while detectives listened on speaker.

“Avery.”

His voice was calm.

“You sound like your father.”

“You remember his voice?”

“I remember everything expensive.”

“You threatened my mother.”

“I protected her.”

“You controlled her medical care.”

“I paid for it.”

“So she’d stay quiet.”

He paused.

“Your father created instability.”

“My father found your fraud.”

“Your father believed truth exists outside consequences.”

“That sounds like something guilty people say.”

Dominic watched silently.

Edward continued.

“My daughter has behaved badly.”

“Your daughter stalked me.”

“Why call me?”

“Because I can make your mother’s medical future secure.”

“In exchange for?”

“The drives.”

I smiled.

“You mean the copies.”

Silence.

He had not known there were copies.

Good.

Edward’s voice cooled.

“You are not equipped for this.”

“I spent eleven years fighting people who thought size meant victory.”

“This is not a gym.”

“No.”

I looked at the officers.

“It has subpoenas.”

Edward hung up.

Two hours later, Whitmore attorneys filed emergency motions claiming the files were stolen corporate property.

That evening, Mom’s dialysis clinic received an anonymous bomb threat.

The building evacuated.

No bomb was found, but treatment was delayed.

Mom became dangerously weak.

Dominic arrived and apologized. “If your family had listened to Dad—” I said. He had no answer.

Then Mom woke.

She looked at Dominic.

“You’re the boy Daniel trusted.”

Dominic swallowed.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“He was wrong.”

I closed my eyes.

Mom had always been direct.

Dominic nodded.

“Yes.”

She squeezed my hand.

“Don’t become them, Avery.”

“I won’t.”

“Anger makes expensive decisions.”

I looked at her.

“Dad used to say that?”

“No.”

She smiled weakly.

“I just made it up.”

Then a nurse entered with an envelope delivered to the front desk.

Inside was a photograph of Dad.

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Alive.

Taken two days after the date on his death certificate.