Chapter 8 - THE MAN BALTIMORE CALLED A SAINT
Sebastian Whitmore was seventy-one and looked exactly like the man whose face appeared on hospital wings and museum walls.
Silver hair.
Tailored navy coat.
Gentle public smile.
He walked toward them as though the pier belonged to him.
“Nathaniel.”
“Uncle.”
Claire heard twenty years of family history inside that one word.
Sebastian looked at her.
“So this is Claire Monroe.”
“You know me?”
“I know the inconvenience you have become.”
Eric shifted.
“You said we were just getting the ledger.”
Sebastian glanced at him with faint irritation.
“You were paid to follow instructions.”
Claire saw Eric understand his position in real time.
Disposable.
Just as Nathaniel had warned.
Sebastian extended one hand toward Claire.
“The ledger.”
“No.”
His expression remained pleasant.
“Ms. Monroe, your daughter is ill. You are financially vulnerable. You have already spent years being disappointed by men. Do not make the mistake of confusing Nathaniel with a rescuer.”
Claire answered:
“He never asked me to.”
That changed Nathaniel’s face slightly.
Sebastian noticed too.
“You always did collect damaged things,” he told his nephew.
Nathaniel’s scarred hand tightened on his cane.
“And you always mistook survival for damage.”
Sebastian sighed.
“Julian used to talk like that.”
Silence.
Nathaniel stepped forward.
“What happened to him?”
Sebastian smiled sadly.
“He died because he couldn’t understand business.”
That was the closest anyone had ever come to admitting something.
Roman’s voice whispered through Claire’s earpiece:
“Keep him talking.”
Claire looked at Sebastian.
“Did Julian create the code in the ledger?”
“No.”
The answer came automatically.
Then Sebastian realized his mistake.
Claire’s pulse jumped.
“Who did?”
He stopped smiling.
She already knew there was only one reason he would know Julian hadn’t created it.
Because Sebastian knew who had.
Claire remembered her old packaging job.
The obscure security system.
The company representative who never attended meetings personally but approved every revision through initials.
S. W.
Nathaniel saw understanding move across her face.
“Claire?”
She stared at Sebastian.
“You commissioned the design system.”
May you like
Sebastian’s eyes turned cold.
Ten years of mystery cracked open with one sentence.
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