Chapter 12 - THE CLONE
Sterling Crown headquarters occupied forty-two floors of a glass tower overlooking the Chicago River.
I had visited the building hundreds of times.
Tonight it looked like enemy territory.
Police vehicles blocked the underground garage.
Security had evacuated the lower executive floors.
Marcus drove through a restricted entrance and stopped beside the loading dock.
My father turned to me.
“You stay in the vehicle.”
“No.”
“Vivienne.”
“My credentials are being used.”
“That does not make this safe.”
“I’m not going into the archive alone.”
“You’re not going into the archive at all.”
I looked at him.
“Dad.”
His face hardened.
Then softened.
“You’re eight months pregnant.”
“I noticed.”
“This is not about whether I think you’re capable.”
“It sounds exactly like that.”
“It’s about whether Malcolm is desperate.”
“He is.”
“Then I will not put you near him.”
I wanted to argue.
Instead, I looked at Marcus.
“What do you need from me?”
He thought.
“Your authorization to remotely revoke all principal card access.”
“Do it.”
My father turned.
“That locks mine too.”
“Yes.”
Marcus nodded.
“Until systems are rebuilt.”
“Do it.”
I did.
One typed authorization.
One biometric scan.
For the first time in company history, every principal-level credential became invalid.
Including my clone.
Marcus’s team entered the building.
We moved to the emergency operations center on the second floor.
Screens displayed camera feeds.
Most archive cameras were black.
One corridor camera remained active.
At 12:46 a.m., a figure appeared.
Male.
Dark coat.
Cap.
Not Malcolm.
He carried a hard case.
Marcus zoomed.
“Peter Lawson.”
Eleanor’s driver.
The man who had collected Chloe’s ring.
The man whose car had contained my laptop.
The same man had entered corporate headquarters using a cloned version of my access credentials.
My father stared.
“So where is Malcolm?”
Nobody knew.
Detective Morales arrived.
“Daniel’s been found.”
My father stood so quickly his chair hit the wall.
“Where?”
“Cicero.”
“Alive?”
“Yes.”
I exhaled.
“How bad?”
“Concussion.”
“Hospital?”
“Northwestern.”
My father grabbed his coat.
Morales stopped him.
“He asked that you not come.”
My father froze.
“What?”
“He specifically told the officers he does not want to see you.”
My father looked devastated.
I asked,
“Did he mention me?”
Morales nodded.
“He asked for you.”
I looked toward my father.
Something passed between us.
Pain.
Understanding.
Permission.
“Go.”
He said it quietly.
I hesitated.
“You should come.”
“No.”
“Dad.”
“He asked for you.”
My father sat back down.
“For once, I’m going to respect what my child asked for.”
The sentence stayed with me.
Dominic offered to drive.
I almost refused.
Then Morales said she needed him anyway.
We left my father with Marcus.
The ride to Northwestern was silent.
Dominic drove.
I watched the city pass.
At a red light, he spoke.
“I knew who your father was.”
“I know.”
“I didn’t date you because of it.”
I looked out the window.
“I believe you.”
He glanced at me.
That surprised him.
I continued.
“I think you loved me.”
“I do.”
“I also think knowing who my father was made you feel like your future had changed.”
He said nothing.
“And I think part of you liked that.”
His hands tightened on the steering wheel.
“Yes.”
The honesty hurt less than another denial would have.
“When Malcolm approached you, did you think helping him would prove you deserved to be in my family?”
Dominic took a long breath.
“Yes.”
“That’s why you never told me.”
“Yes.”
“You wanted to bring my father a deal.”
“Yes.”
“Your own way into the room.”
He nodded.
“I was tired of being the son-in-law everyone assumed had married up.”
I laughed quietly.
“Your family spent three years telling me I married up.”
“I know.”
“Did that bother you?”
“More than it should have.”
There it was.
The weakness Malcolm found.
Pride.
Not greed exactly.
Something more ordinary.
And therefore more dangerous.
“I wish you had told me.”
“I wish I had been the kind of man who could.”
I looked at him.
That was the first apology that sounded like he understood what he had actually done.
Not the laptop.
Not the silence in the ballroom.
The years of pretending.
We reached the hospital.
Detective Morales met us upstairs.
Daniel had six stitches, a mild concussion, bruised ribs, and a fractured wrist.
He was awake.
I stood outside his room for several seconds.
Then entered.
My brother was sitting up in bed.
The airport footage had not prepared me.
In person, resemblance became undeniable.
His eyes were my father’s.
His mouth was different.
Softer.
Maybe Caroline’s.
He looked at me for a long time.
“So.”
I almost smiled.
“So.”
“You’re real.”
“I was about to say the same thing.”
That earned a faint laugh.
Then he winced.
I sat beside the bed.
“Are you okay?”
“Eventually.”
“Who hurt you?”
“Peter.”
“The driver.”
“Yes.”
“Malcolm?”
“Gave the order.”
“Where is he?”
“I don’t know.”
“Why were you working with him?”
Daniel stared at the blanket.
“Because he found me when nobody else did.”
I said nothing.
“He came to my college graduation.”
“Dad didn’t?”
“He sent a car.”
That hurt me for him.
“Malcolm showed up.”
“With flowers.”
“Of course.”
Daniel smiled bitterly.
“He remembered my birthday.”
“He told me stories about my mother.”
“Some were even true.”
“And the rest?”
“Designed.”
“To make you hate Dad.”
“I didn’t need much help.”
I could not argue.
“What changed?”
“Malcolm wanted me to sign something.”
“What?”
“A statement.”
“What did it say?”
“That Dad had concealed evidence in my mother’s death.”
“Didn’t he?”
“Yes.”
“But?”
“It also said he caused her death.”
“That isn’t true?”
Daniel looked at me.
“I don’t know.”
“Then why refuse?”
“Because Malcolm wanted it notarized before I saw the recording.”
“The recording you mentioned.”
Daniel nodded.
“I found it later.”
“On what?”
“An old digital conversion drive in his office.”
“How did you get into his office?”
“He trusts people who hate the same person he hates.”
I understood.
“He didn’t think I’d turn.”
“No.”
“What’s on the recording?”
Daniel reached toward the bedside drawer.
Morales handed him an evidence bag.
Inside was a small flash drive.
“This.”
“Did police copy it?”
“Yes.”
“Can we hear it?”
Daniel looked at me.
“You may wish you hadn’t.”
“I’m getting used to that.”
Morales connected the drive to a hospital laptop.
The audio began.
Static.
Then Malcolm’s younger voice.
“William, Caroline has the ledger.”
My grandfather.
“Then get it back.”
“She made copies.”
“Find them.”
“And if she refuses?”
Silence.
My grandfather’s voice returned.
“Do whatever is necessary to protect the company.”
My stomach tightened.
Malcolm laughed.
“You should be careful with language like that.”
“You know what I mean.”
“Do I?”
Grandpa’s voice sharpened.
“Do not hurt her.”
A pause.
Then Malcolm.
“Too late for principles.”
The audio clicked.
Another voice entered.
Female.
Caroline.
“You’re both finished.”
My skin went cold.
The recording had captured them together.
My father had never known.
Caroline continued.
“I sent copies.”
Malcolm said,
“To whom?”
“That’s the beautiful part.”
“You’ll never know.”
My grandfather’s voice softened.
“Caroline.”
“Don’t.”
“You have Daniel.”
“I know exactly what I have.”
“You don’t understand what happens if this company collapses.”
“I understand that you think money makes consequences optional.”
Silence.
Then movement.
Something scraped.
Caroline shouted.
“Get away from me.”
A crash.
Then the recording stopped.
I looked at Daniel.
“That doesn’t tell us who pushed her.”
“No.”
“Where did it come from?”
“Malcolm had it.”
“Why keep it?”
Daniel shrugged.
“Insurance.”
Against my grandfather.
Against everyone.
Morales asked,
“Did Malcolm ever say he killed her?”
“No.”
“Did he say William did?”
“Yes.”
“Do you believe him?”
Daniel looked toward me.
“I believed everything he said for a long time.”
“And now?”
“Now I believe Malcolm says whatever keeps him in control.”
A nurse entered.
“Ms. Sterling?”
“Yes.”
“Your father is on the phone.”
I took it.
“Dad?”
His voice sounded strained.
“We found Peter.”
“Alive?”
“Yes.”
“Malcolm?”
“No.”
“What happened?”
“Peter was in the archive.”
“Did he get the ledger?”
“No.”
“Then what was he doing?”
My father paused.
“Burning files.”
My chest tightened.
“How much damage?”
“Limited.”
“What files?”
“Old acquisitions.”
“Cedar Ridge?”
“Yes.”
“Did you find the ledger?”
Silence.
“Dad?”
“No.”
Daniel sat straighter.
“What?”
I repeated.
“They didn’t find it.”
Daniel’s face changed.
“That’s impossible.”
“Could Malcolm already have it?”
“No.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I found where Caroline hid it.”
“Where?”
Daniel looked toward me.
“Inside the wall behind the original Cedar Ridge plaque.”
My father heard through the phone.
“We checked the plaque.”
Daniel’s brow furrowed.
“Then someone got there first.”
“When?”
“I don’t know.”
My father’s voice became quiet.
“Security logs show the archive wall was opened three days ago.”
“By whom?”
I asked.
My father did not answer.
“Dad.”
“The credential was legitimate.”
“Whose?”
A pause.
Then he said,
“Mine.”
I stared at the phone.
“Were you there three days ago?”
“No.”
Daniel closed his eyes.
“He cloned Dad too.”
But Marcus interrupted through my father’s line.
“No.”
“What?”
I asked.
Marcus spoke.
“This wasn’t a clone.”
“How do you know?”
“Biometric verification was used.”
My father went silent.
Only two things could open that archive with his credential.
His card.
And his fingerprint.
Someone had entered using both.
I looked toward Daniel.
He looked confused.
Then Dominic, standing near the hospital door, whispered,
“Richard wasn’t the only Sterling authorized under the old biometric system.”
I turned.
“What are you talking about?”
Dominic looked at me.
“Malcolm showed me historical access records.”
“Who else?”
Dominic swallowed.
“Your grandfather.”
I stared.
“He’s dead.”
“Yes.”
“Then his credentials would have been removed.”
“They were.”
Dominic’s face tightened.
“But the legacy archive still accepted one other biometric profile linked to William Sterling.”
My stomach dropped.
“Whose?”
Dominic looked toward Daniel.
Then toward me.
“His designated successor.”
I understood before he said it.
My father.
But my father was on the phone.
He had not gone into the archive.
Then Daniel whispered,
“Unless Grandpa named someone else before he died.”
My father went silent.
A forgotten successor.
A hidden heir.
May you like
Someone with legitimate Sterling access.
And whoever that person was had taken the ledger three days before the wedding.
