Chapter 13 - GRACE’S FATHER
Thomas Miller’s chair beneath the chapel mattered.
Nathan returned there with Grace before dawn.
No one else.
Not because it was safe.
Because some truths did not need an audience.
Grace sat in her father’s chair.
Her fingers traced the initials.
T.M.
“I hated him for dying.”
Nathan stood nearby.
“Why?”
“He left me alone.”
“Children blame the dead for being unavailable.”
Grace looked at him.
“So do grown men.”
Nathan accepted that.
They searched the chair.
Nothing.
Then Grace noticed one armrest was worn differently.
She pressed.
A small compartment opened.
Inside was a plain metal key and Thomas’s old rosary.
Grace began crying.
Not loudly.
Nathan looked away until she could breathe.
She took the key.
A narrow lock sat beneath the table.
The mechanism opened a hidden panel.
Inside was a small voice recorder.
Thomas Miller.
Grace pressed play.
Her father’s voice.
“If Grace hears this, then I failed to keep her away from the Cole family.”
She almost laughed through tears.
Nathan looked at her.
Thomas continued.
“I joined the Black Table because Arthur threatened my daughter.”
Grace closed her eyes.
“I told myself I could weaken it from inside.”
A pause.
“I was wrong.”
Nathan thought of every person who had tried to control the machine.
Thomas.
Arthur.
Edwin.
Maybe Julian.
“One rule matters above all others.”
Thomas’s voice became quiet.
“The Founder never sits at the Table.”
Nathan looked toward Grace.
That matched the photograph.
One of us never sat down.
“He stands behind it.”
Gabriel.
Thomas continued.
“Arthur spent years pretending Gabriel was dead because that was the only way he could weaken his authority.”
Nathan’s jaw tightened.
“Gabriel recruited men through grief.”
Grace frowned.
The recording continued.
“He finds the person who has lost the most. Gives them someone to blame. Gives them a path to revenge. Then owns the direction of their anger.”
Nathan thought of Victoria.
Grace.
Julian.
Richard.
Edwin.
Even himself.
Everyone had grief.
Everyone could be aimed.
“Julian discovered Gabriel was still active.”
Thomas’s voice cracked slightly.
“I helped him survive the bombing.”
Grace looked up.
Her father again.
“Arthur wanted Julian exiled. Gabriel changed the order to death.”
Nathan stopped breathing.
Founder.
Hidden escalation.
There it was.
“Arthur finally understood what Gabriel had become.”
A pause.
“He hid Julian because he was trying to use him against Gabriel.”
Nathan almost laughed.
Even protection was strategy.
“Then Arthur died before he could finish.”
Thomas breathed heavily on the recording.
“I believe Gabriel killed him.”
Nathan stared.
His father had died after a sudden stroke.
Maybe real.
Maybe not.
“After Arthur died, Edwin restarted the Table because he thought the structure was necessary.”
Grace whispered:
“Idiot.”
Nathan almost smiled.
Thomas continued.
“He doesn’t understand that every meeting gives Gabriel another map of who is afraid.”
A longer pause.
“If Nathan ever has a child, Gabriel will come.”
Nathan’s face changed.
“Not because he wants the child dead.”
Grace stared at the recorder.
“Because he wants Nathan transformed.”
Silence.
“He wants the next Cole leader to become Arthur.”
Nathan felt cold.
Threaten Lily.
Make Nathan retaliate.
Rebuild the old monster.
“He will use Grace if he can.”
Grace’s hand tightened.
“He will use Julian.”
Nathan closed his eyes.
“He will use whatever woman Nathan loves.”
Grace stopped breathing.
Nathan looked at her.
Thomas’s voice continued.
“And if Nathan hears this, tell him something I never had the courage to say while Arthur lived.”
A pause.
“Being feared kept your family alive.”
Another.
“But loving fear is what destroyed it.”
The recorder clicked.
Grace wiped her face.
Nathan stared at the black table.
“What did your father mean by Founder never sits?”
Grace looked at the photograph again.
“One man standing.”
Nathan realized.
The unknown older man.
Gabriel.
Always outside the official structure.
Never voting.
Never responsible.
Only directing fear.
Grace looked at Thomas’s key.
“What does this open?”
They searched.
The key fit a small door behind Arthur’s old chair.
Inside was no room.
A narrow passage.
Fresh air.
They followed it.
The tunnel surfaced behind the chapel, near the family cemetery.
A black car waited.
No driver.
Rear door open.
Inside sat one object.
Lily’s wooden block.
The one Nathan used for the roof.
Grace went pale.
“She was with Julian.”
Nathan pulled out his phone.
No answer.
Julian.
Again.
Dante.
No answer.
Estate.
Nothing.
Then Nathan’s phone vibrated.
Unknown number.
A voice.
Old.
Calm.
American.
“Nathan.”
Nathan looked at Grace.
“Gabriel.”
The man laughed softly.
“So Thomas taught you eventually.”
Nathan’s voice became cold.
“Where is my daughter?”
“Home.”
“What does that mean?”
“Come back to the estate.”
“Touch her—”
“There.”
Gabriel interrupted.
“That voice.”
Nathan stopped.
“The voice Arthur had.”
Nathan’s hand tightened.
Gabriel continued.
“I knew the child would find it.”
“Find what?”
May you like
“Your fear.”
The line went dead.
