Chapter 10
Gavin confessed faster after Miranda learned that.
Not because he grew a conscience.
Because his sister stopped protecting him.
He had joined Vincent for one reason.
Position.
Gavin wanted control of Ferrante security under Declan Vale—Arthur’s nephew—after I stepped down.
There was already a replacement structure.
Vincent as elder.
Arthur as caretaker of the children.
Declan Vale handling routes.
Gavin security.
Miranda temporarily remaining my wife to keep me manageable.
Then later removed.
Everyone had a role.
Except the children.
They were leverage.
Except me.
I was obstacle.
Except Miranda.
She thought she was partner.
Classic conspiracy.
Everyone imagines they are closer to the center than they are.
I asked Gavin:
“Who was driving the van?”
He gave me the name.
Caleb Morris.
Ferrante driver.
He believed he was taking the children to a private school at my instruction.
Interesting.
Not every participant knew the truth.
Good distinction.
Caleb had stayed at the gate until my men approached.
Then he panicked and drove.
Rafe later brought him back.
He showed me the message giving the order.
It appeared to come from my secure household line.
Forged through internal access.
Who had access?
Miranda.
Again.
I looked at her.
She nodded.
No denial.
Every layer returned to the house.
That mattered.
We spend fortunes defending gates while assuming bedrooms are safe.
Then Arthur admitted one more thing.
The three suitcases contained more than clothes.
Inside false bottoms were childhood objects meant to support the new identities.
Birth certificates?
No.
We did not need legal machinery.
Just family narrative.
Photographs without me.
School items relabeled.
Letters supposedly written by “Uncle Arthur.”
New family stories.
They planned to rebuild memory gradually.
Milo would remember me.
Nora too.
Tess perhaps less.
But repeated enough, adults hoped confusion would replace certainty.
I looked at the luggage.
That was the part I hated most.
May you like
They were not merely moving bodies.
They were trying to move childhood itself.
