Chairman Crain's POV
My phone rang at three in the morning, and I knew something was wrong.
"Detective Morrison is asking questions," my assistant's voice was shaky. "He's reopening the Russell case from fifteen years ago."
I sat up in bed, my heart beating. After all these years, why now? Why was someone looking into the past just when everything was finally coming together?
"Who asked him to reopen it?" I asked.
"Elijah Russell himself," my helper said. "And sir... he mentioned the Kingston accident too. He thinks they're connected."
I threw the phone across the room and it smashed against the wall.
This was meant to be simple. Kill the Kingstons. Take their company. Become the richest man in the city. But now that Russell boy was sticking his nose where it didn't belong.
Just like his father had done fifteen years ago.
I got dressed quickly and drove to my office. By the time I arrived, three other board members were already waiting for me. They looked scared, which made me angry.
"Calm down," I told them. "One detective asking questions doesn't change anything."
"It changes everything!" Mr. Davis said, sweating even though it was cold outside. "If he finds proof that we killed the Russells—"
"He won't find proof," I interrupted. "Because we were careful back then, just like we were careful with the Kingstons."
But as I said the words, I knew they weren't completely true. We had been careful, but not perfect. There were always loose ends. Always witnesses who might remember something. Always evidence that could emerge at the wrong time.
"What about the girl?" Mrs. Peterson asked. "What about Amara Kingston?"
"She's not a problem," I said. "Sheila and Jayden are handling her."
"Are you sure we can trust them?" Mr. Davis asked. "That Sheila girl seems... unstable."
He was right to worry. Sheila Banks was useful, but she was also dangerous. She liked hurting people a little too much. Sometimes I wondered if I had made a monster.
"She's motivated," I said instead. "She wants Amara destroyed as much as we do."
"But what if Amara remembers what happened that night?" Mrs. Peterson asked. "What if she tells someone about the men with guns?"
That was the question that kept me awake at night. Amara had seen too much. Heard too much. The smart thing would have been to kill her in that hospital bed.
But Sheila had told me that a living, broken Amara would be more useful than a dead one. A girl with no family, no money, and no hope could be managed. A girl who was fully dependent on her "friends" wouldn't cause trouble.
At least, that had been the plan.
"She won't remember," I said. "Trauma makes people forget things. And even if she does remember, who would believe her? A sad, confused girl who just lost her parents? People will think she's having a breakdown."
My phone buzzed with a text message from Sheila.
"Problem. Elijah Russell talked to Amara at the funeral. Gave her his business card."
I showed the message to the other board members. Mr. Davis turned white.
"This is getting out of control," he said. "Maybe we should just give the company back to the girl and walk away."
I grabbed him by his shirt and pulled him close to my face.
"We are not walking away," I said slowly. "Do you know how long I've been planning this? Do you know how much I've sacrificed?"
The truth was, I'd been planning to take over Kingston Industries for twenty years. Ever since James Kingston beat me out for a business deal that should have been mine.
James Kingston thought he was so smart. So honest. So much better than everyone else.
He had no idea that I was slowly ruining his life from the inside.
First, I placed spies in his company. People who told me his business secrets and helped me steal his customers.
Then, I started stories about his family. Small things at first. Lies about his wife. Lies about his business methods.
But James was stronger than I expected. Every time I tried to bring him down, he found a way to fight back.
So I chose to hit him where it would hurt the most.
His family.
"Call Sheila," I told my helper. "Tell her we're moving to Phase Two tonight."
"What's Phase Two?" Mr. Davis asked.
"Making sure Amara Kingston disappears forever," I said.
But as I was making plans to ruin a teenage girl, something happened that I didn't expect.
My assistant ran into the room, his face white with fear.
"Sir, you need to see this," he said, turning on the television.
On the screen was a news reporter standing outside the police station.
"In a shocking change of events," the reporter said, "Detective Morrison has announced that he's reopening not one, but three unsolved cases involving suspicious car accidents. The Russell family case from fifteen years ago, the Kingston family case from last week, and a previously unknown case involving the Morrison family from twenty-five years ago. "
My heart stopped. The Morrison family? How did he know about that?
The reporter continued. "Detective Morrison says he has new evidence that suggests all three accidents were actually murders, committed by the same person or group."
"Turn it off," I whispered.
But it was too late. The reporter was still talking.
"Detective Morrison's father was killed in a car crash twenty-five years ago. At the time, it was ruled an accident. But new evidence shows that Detective Morrison's father was murdered because he was investigating corruption in the business community. " I felt like I was going to throw up. Detective Morrison wasn't just some random cop asking questions. He was the son of the man I had killed twenty-five years ago.
The man who had been getting too close to finding my first murder.
"This changes everything," Mrs. Peterson whispered.
She was right. This wasn't about stealing a business anymore. This was about life.
If Detective Morrison proved that I killed his father, he would dig deeper. He would find proof of all my other crimes. The Russell killings. The Kingston killings. The dozen other "accidents" I had planned over the years.
"What do we do?" Mr. Davis asked.
I looked at each of them. These weak, scared people who had helped me commit terrible crimes because they wanted money and power. Now they were falling apart at the first sign of trouble.
"We finish what we started," I said. "But we do it faster than planned."
I picked up my phone and called a number I hadn't used in five years.
"Viktor," I said when a deep voice answered. "I need your special services again."
"How many people?" Viktor asked in his thick tongue.
"Three," I said. "A detective, a businessman, and a teenage girl."
"When?"
"Tonight," I said. "It has to look like accidents."
"That will cost extra," Viktor said.
"I don't care what it costs," I said. "Just get it done."
After I hung up, the room was silent for a long time.
"Are you sure about this?" Mrs. Peterson asked.
"I'm sure," I said. "By tomorrow morning, Detective Morrison, Elijah Russell, and Amara Kingston will all be dead. And no one will ever know the truth about what we did."
But as I was talking, I heard something that made my blood run cold.
A voice from outside my office door.
"Actually, I think someone already knows the truth."
The door opened, and in walked someone I never expected to see again.
Someone I thought I had killed fifteen years ago.
James Kingston.
Amara's father. Alive.