Chapter 8 - The Traitor at the TableDiamond locked down the estate before dawn.
Nobody left.
Nobody entered.
One hundred and twelve employees.
Guards.
Kitchen staff.
Drivers.
Accountants.
Cleaners.
Soldiers.
Everyone became a suspect.
Including Levi.
Especially Levi.
Evelyn was returned alive.
She remembered nothing after the lights went out.
A needle mark appeared behind her ear.
Sedative.
Professional extraction.
Whoever took her had known exactly how to bypass the estate.
Caprice stood in Diamond’s study as files accumulated across the desk.
Diamond had not slept.
Neither had she.
Levi entered.
“Vehicle logs.”
He dropped a folder.
“Only six people accessed the garage.”
Diamond opened it.
Levi.
Two mechanics.
Three guards.
Caprice read the names.
One caught her attention.
Marcus Vale.
“Who is Marcus?”
Diamond looked.
“Night security.”
Caprice frowned.
“I know him.”
Levi raised an eyebrow.
“You know everyone.”
“He used to bring coffee to the kitchen during my night shifts.”
She thought.
“He was always friendly.”
Diamond’s mouth hardened.
“Friendly people are suspicious.”
Caprice looked at him.
“That explains why you trust almost nobody.”
“Correct.”
Levi checked his tablet.
“Marcus has been here seven years.”
“Family?” Caprice asked.
“Wife died. No children.”
“Debt?”
“None.”
“Criminal connections?”
“He works for us, Caprice.”
“You know what I mean.”
Levi shook his head.
“Clean.”
Caprice looked at the list again.
“What about the mechanics?”
“Brothers. Both worked here since Patrick.”
Caprice stopped.
“Since Patrick.”
Diamond looked at her.
“What?”
“Victor said the enemy is sitting at your table.”
“Yes.”
“Maybe he means literally.”
Diamond’s eyes narrowed.
Caprice looked around the study.
“How many people from your father’s organization still work for you?”
Levi answered.
“Twenty-three.”
“Start there.”
By noon, twenty-three names covered the wall.
Caprice studied them.
She remembered faces.
Habits.
Who drank tea.
Who smoked.
Who looked away when Diamond entered.
Years of invisibility had trained her for this.
She noticed people.
One photograph bothered her.
An older man.
White hair.
Thin face.
Arthur Bell.
“Who is he?”
Diamond looked.
“My accountant.”
“For how long?”
“Twenty-eight years.”
Caprice stared.
“Does he come here?”
“Every Tuesday.”
“What time?”
“Ten.”
Caprice checked the clock.
9:42.
She looked at Diamond.
“Don’t cancel.”
Arthur Bell arrived eighteen minutes later.
He entered carrying a leather briefcase.
Polite.
Calm.
Unremarkable.
Exactly the kind of man nobody remembered.
Caprice brought coffee.
Old habits.
Old camouflage.
Arthur smiled.
“Thank you, dear.”
Diamond watched him.
Caprice placed the cup.
Arthur opened his briefcase.
Documents.
Tax records.
Shipping accounts.
Caprice moved behind him.
Then she smelled it.
Hydraulic grease.
Faint.
Almost invisible.
On the leather handle.
Her heart accelerated.
She looked at Diamond.
He saw.
Caprice touched her own wrist.
Their signal.
Danger.
Diamond’s expression did not change.
“Arthur.”
“Yes?”
“How long did you work for my father?”
Arthur smiled.
“Long enough to know you inherited his temper.”
Diamond leaned back.
“And his enemies?”
Arthur’s smile faded.
“Some.”
“What about Victor Sloane?”
Silence.
Tiny.
But enough.
Arthur reached into the briefcase.
Caprice moved.
She grabbed the coffee pot and threw it.
Boiling liquid struck Arthur’s hand.
He screamed.
A pistol fell from the briefcase.
Diamond drew his weapon.
Levi entered with two guards.
Arthur was forced onto the floor.
Diamond rolled closer.
“You brought a gun into my house.”
Arthur laughed.
“You have hundreds.”
“Mine.”
Diamond’s voice became cold.
“Who do you work for?”
Arthur looked at Caprice.
“You.”
Caprice frowned.
Arthur smiled through the pain.
“This entire thing is about you.”
Diamond’s gun pressed against Arthur’s forehead.
“Wrong answer.”
Arthur laughed harder.
“Ask Victor.”
“Where is he?”
“You still don’t understand.”
Arthur’s eyes moved toward Caprice.
“He didn’t come back for the empire.”
Diamond’s face changed.
Arthur continued.
“He came back because he heard his son had fallen in love.”
Caprice felt cold.
“Why would that matter?”
Arthur looked at her.
“Because Victor has spent thirty years proving love is a disease.”
Diamond cocked the gun.
“Enough philosophy.”
Arthur smiled.
“He wants to cure you.”
Diamond’s finger tightened.
Caprice caught his wrist.
“No.”
Arthur looked delighted.
“There.”
His eyes gleamed.
“That.”
Diamond stared.
Arthur whispered.
“The hesitation.”
Then he bit down.
Levi lunged.
Too late.
Arthur convulsed.
Foam appeared at his mouth.
Poison capsule.
Within seconds, he was dead.
Diamond stared.
Caprice released his wrist.
Levi swore.
“Fanatic.”
“No,” Evelyn said from the doorway.
Everyone turned.
She stood supported by a nurse.
Her face was pale.
“He was Victor’s brother.”
Diamond looked at the body.
“What?”
“Half brother.”
Evelyn stepped closer.
“Arthur Bell was born Arthur Sloane.”
Levi stared.
“He handled Kelly finances for thirty years.”
“Yes.”
Diamond’s expression became sick.
“Victor had someone beside Patrick the entire time.”
“Yes.”
“And beside me.”
“Yes.”
Caprice looked at Evelyn.
“Then Victor could have destroyed Diamond whenever he wanted.”
Evelyn nodded.
“Exactly.”
Diamond turned.
“What are you saying?”
Caprice answered.
“He doesn’t want you dead.”
She looked at Arthur.
“He wants something else.”
That evening, they discovered what.
Arthur’s briefcase contained a hidden compartment.
Inside was an old VHS tape.
A label had been written across it.
DIAMOND — AGE 17.
They found a player in storage.
The footage began.
A teenage Diamond appeared.
Tall.
Angry.
Walking through the old Kelly mansion.
Caprice stared.
He could walk.
Of course she knew he once could.
But knowing and seeing were different.
Seventeen-year-old Diamond moved with restless energy.
Fast.
Confident.
Alive in a way she had never witnessed.
Present-day Diamond watched without expression.
Then teenage Diamond entered a bedroom.
Evelyn’s.
Blood stained the carpet.
The camera angle changed.
Hidden camera.
Patrick Kelly entered.
He grabbed his son.
The beating was brutal.
Caprice covered her mouth.
Diamond watched himself fall.
Patrick kicked him.
Again.
Again.
Then Patrick spoke.
“You want to know where your mother is?”
Teenage Diamond spat blood.
“Yes.”
Patrick crouched.
“She chose another man over you.”
Present-day Diamond closed his eyes.
Onscreen, Patrick continued.
“She chose Victor.”
Teenage Diamond froze.
Patrick smiled.
“Victor Sloane is your real father.”
Caprice looked at Diamond.
He had known.
At seventeen.
But something had happened.
Onscreen, Patrick pulled a syringe from his coat.
Evelyn whispered.
“No.”
Patrick injected Diamond.
The image blurred.
Teenage Diamond collapsed.
The recording ended.
Silence.
Diamond stared at the blank screen.
“I don’t remember.”
Evelyn began crying.
“He drugged you.”
Diamond touched his temple.
“I don’t remember any of this.”
Caprice knelt beside him.
“Trauma.”
“No.”
Diamond’s voice shook.
“I remember searching her room.”
He looked at Evelyn.
“I remember the hospital.”
“But not this.”
Evelyn nodded.
“Patrick used experimental memory suppression drugs.”
Levi stared.
“Jesus.”
Diamond laughed bitterly.
“My entire life is a lie.”
Caprice took his hand.
“No.”
He looked at her.
“Parts of your past are.”
She squeezed.
“But this?”
She touched his chest.
“This is yours.”
Diamond stared at her.
Then the television switched on by itself.
Static.
A live video feed appeared.
Victor Sloane sat in a chair.
Older.
Silver hair.
Diamond’s eyes.
He looked directly into the camera.
“Hello, Diamond.”
Everyone froze.
Victor smiled.
“If you are watching this, Arthur failed.”
He did not appear upset.
“He was always too theatrical.”
Diamond leaned forward.
Victor continued.
“You want answers.”
A pause.
“I want to give them.”
Behind Victor, a room came into focus.
A hospital room.
A man lay in bed.
Caprice squinted.
Then Diamond stopped breathing.
The man looked almost exactly like him.
Younger.
Healthy.
Standing legs beneath the blanket.
Victor smiled.
“Meet your brother.”
Diamond stared.
Victor leaned toward the camera.
“His name is Damien.”
The feed ended.
No one moved.
Caprice looked at Diamond.
Brother.
Another son.
Another heir.
And suddenly Victor’s game made terrible sense.
May you like
He was not trying to destroy the Kelly empire.
He was choosing who deserved to inherit it.
