Chapter 7 - THE CONFESSION
The locket fell open in Drake’s palm.
There was no paper inside. Paper would have rotted or faded over twenty-five years. Instead, carefully folded against the silver, was a piece of tightly woven, industrial-grade sailcloth.
Drake carefully unfolded it.
The silence in the room was absolute. Even the police officers leaned in, mesmerized by the tension.
Cora looked down at the cloth. Covered in microscopic, flawless black embroidery was a complete confession.
I, Captain Thomas Vance, was paid fifty thousand dollars by Arthur Ashford to scuttle the freighter 'Helena' on Oct 14. I was ordered to ensure Isabella Holloway did not survive the wreck, as she had discovered the illegal arms manifest. God have mercy on my soul.
Beneath the text was a thumbprint, stamped in indelible ink, and the signature of the captain.
Drake’s breathing stopped. The violent shaking of his hands was the only indication of the earthquake happening inside his soul. Twenty-five years of searching. Twenty-five years of building an empire just to find the power to punish the ghosts who took his mother.
He slowly raised his head and looked at Theodore.
Theodore backed away, his hands raised in terror. "I didn't know! I swear to God, Holloway, I didn't know! It was my father! It was her!" He pointed a trembling finger at his own mother.
Marguerite slapped Theodore across the face, a cracking sound that echoed in the ruined room. "You coward!" she hissed. She turned to the police chief. "Arrest them! It's a forgery!"
Chief Miller took a step back, shaking his head. "Mrs. Ashford, I think you and your son need to come down to the station."
"You work for us!" Theodore screamed, his polished veneer completely shattered. He looked at Cora, his eyes wide with a frantic, pathetic hatred. "You did this! You planned this! You're nothing but a nobody from a slum! Look at her! She's nothing!"
"She's my family," a small voice said from the doorway.
Everyone turned. Little Mia stood there, holding the hand of one of Drake’s massive guards. In her other hand, she clutched a perfectly preserved, undamaged section of the antique lace veil—the piece Cora had given her earlier to practice her stitching.
Mia walked bravely past the police and handed the lace to Drake. "It's not broken, Uncle Drake. Cora fixed it."
Drake took the lace, looking down at his niece with profound gentleness. Then, his eyes caught something on the bottom edge of the fabric. The border wasn't just a floral pattern.
May you like
He looked closer, his eyes tracing the intricate thread work.
Drake looked up at Cora, his eyes blazing with a mixture of shock and fierce triumph. "Cora... look at the border. There is one more name sewn into this."
